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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 8 months

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Eras tour thoughts, part 3: Burning the Lover house

So, after my Anti-Hero/Matilda theory, here's another brain dump of thoughts on style choices for the Eras tour, now that the first leg has officially finished and we are on the international leg of the tour. Warning, this is bit of an essay...

This part is about maybe the most glaring visual choice of the whole tour, one that pretty much every swiftie has picked up on: The burning of the Lover house. I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom about this and some theories about how this could represent 'burning down' her old work as she releases the re-recordings or making space for new albums because the house is full if every room represents an era.

In terms of gaylor theories I've only seen one and that is THIS one by @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (I hope you don't mind me borrowing your theory for this post). It's a brilliant theory that burning the house is another step on the road to coming out and I'd like to extend this with a few observations on my own.

Firstly, I'd agree that the midnights cover image of Taylor holding the lighter was definitely a sign that something was going to get burned before the tour even started. Even with the midnights songs themselves, if we think of it as a journey of stepping into the daylight, the songs on this album are definitely pretty gay and only one song with he/him pronouns. But back to the lover house...

True to my TRUE Lover

So the lover house to me has always represented her public relationships, it's not where her real lover lives and that is for two reasons:

The OG lover house is in a snow globe (see lover mv) so it is to be displayed/looked at but not to be actually lived in. And

Maybe most importantly, the house doesn't have a kitchen. In all of Taylor's music the centre of her domestic life/the place where her lover is, has always been the kitchen. Dancing in the refrigerator light / barefoot in the kitchen/ you're in the kitchen humming, and so many more. Not to mention that her actual love story literally started with the line 'your kitchen or mine...' So yeah, the absence of a kitchen in the lover house has always been pretty telling to me, that this is the 'love's for show' house and her true lover is somewhere else.

What happens to the house during the Eras tour?

So not surprisingly, the house first appears during the lover era set which is the opening act of the tour. Notably though, it isn't furnished and 'lived in' anymore like it was in the lover mv, it's empty and the lovers have very clearly moved out. It's also not night time anymore, it's now daytime and the sun is shining in through the windows:

The only person we see in it, is Taylor in a yellow dress in the pink bedroom where she climbs into the big mirror and disappears. The first 'burning' then occurs at the end of the set, during the transition to fearless era. The last song of the set is the Archer, during which golden arrows fly around on the stage that form a ball of light that explores into a cascade of sparkling rain that sets the house on fire.

It doesn't really burn like a normal house fire though, it just stands in the rain of sparks, looking almost peaceful and golden. So much so, that she added a massive smoke effect to drive home the message that the house really is burning. Look how much smoke there is:

So at the end of the lover era, the contents of the house and a few of the walls have burned, but the house is still pretty much intact. It can be repaired. And that's pretty spot on for the actual lover era, which was meant to be her coming out era, but ended up just being a nice gentle golden (aka pastels and rainbows) fire that left some damage to her straight image but could ultimately be repaired and the public bearding continued. Keep that in mind, because we now don't see the house again until way later in the show.

1989 - Now it really burns

During the 1989 set (which is the second to last in the show) there is a ton of fire imagery, starting with the flame in the hand and the bed on fire during Wildest dreams and then finally, during Bad Blood, the final song, we see the house again looking a bit charred. Now, this is where things get interesting. We see Taylor walking in wearing Karlie's 2014 VSFS outfit, full strut and including the flick of the cape as she sits down at the vanity. She then flicks a match at the floor and the rooms lights up in blue flames.

So despite this being Taylor, I think the outfit and the strut make it pretty clear that this is Karlie who is lighting the house on fire again. And I think now in hindsight we can safely assume that this was foreshadowing Karlie showing up and setting in motion the events that follow. Even in the last few weeks since Karlie's appearance at the LA show, the fandom has been pretty much on fire over it, no matter what side of the fence you're on. And this time it's not a gentle sparkly rain, it's a blazing inferno, blue first, then it turns orange (or whatever colour normal fire is) before the house eventually collapses in a smoking heap and is gone for good.

video credit: ryan pily on YouTube

So...are we nearing daylight?

My interpretation is, that the blue flames indicate that 1989 TV will have a significant impact on this journey, and the different cover images that we have seen so far have confirmed that for me. They are all imitations of original 1989 era polaroids, but taken outside in broad daylight with seagulls flying freely and Taylor's face smiling on full display. They are also the first re-release covers that have the album title and Taylor's Version written on them so she wants her name on these, which feels significant. Now, I don't think that this will be the 'coming out era' or anything, I still think we are 12-18 months away from the end of this whole process, but I think Karlie showing up was a big shift in the story and I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of her and a lot less of any 'boyfriends'. But let's not forget that the general swiftie fandom still have a long way to go from 'she's straight and has only ever dated men' to 'she's been madly in love with the same woman for the last 10 years'. The house finally collapsing suggest to me that we are done with the bearding narrative, and tbh Taylor seems over it. She's been the happiest ever on this tour and didn't even attempt to look sad over her supposed breakup with Joe... I'm trying to collect my thoughts on how the remaining two re-release albums will further this journey, but it's all a jumble at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if tour visuals for the Asia/Australia/Europe leg of the tour change as time goes on to reveal more as we get closer to rep and debut re-release. And personally, I think that once the tour and all re-releases are done, we will get TS11 and that will be the gayest album yet, songs with she/her pronouns and all. 🤞😉

If you've made it all the way to here - Thank you indeed, you are a star!

(pictures and gifs not mine)

#gaylor #taylor swift #kaylor #gaylor swift #eras tour #1989 tv #the eras tour #lgbetty #lover house theory

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magalidragon · 4 months

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❄️❄️dashing through the snow ❄️❄️| Jonerys Winter Wonderland | teaser

For prompt Sexy Sleigh Ride 🛷 | also I get my runaway bride fix too 🤭

Tulle flew over her face again; her legs went out from under her, and she was sure now she was showing off her undergarments to the world if anyone decided to take a peek. She cursed in Valyrian, struggling to upright herself, gathering skirts and tearing what she could, and now she was barefoot.

In the snow.

In the winter.

At Winterfell.

And she had no true escape plan.

"At least I'm out," she mumbled, looking up at the open window where she'd fallen from. She took a deep breath and turned, scanning around where she'd ended up.

She was on the north side of the castle, near the stables. The godswood was over to the west, a bit too close for comfort. The kitchens were on the far south side which was good because it was less likely for her to be caught by some cater waiter. All the guests should be seated, but she couldn't risk it.

"Daenerys Targaryen!"

Oh shit.

Dany whipped her head up, in time to see a flame red flash in the window she'd pushed herself out of. "Fuck," she mumbled. It was either Cat or Sansa, both of whom were the worst people in the world and now the hunt was on. She really had to get the fuck out of here.

Keep calm, keep calm.

The cold was starting to get to her, her arms bare in the floaty dress which looked like she'd been painted in feathers. It was beautiful. It was expensive. It was designed by her future sister-in-law.

And she hated it..

It was also not conducive to a winter outdoor wedding or escaping from the roof of a castle. The neck tied around her in a halter style, with rows and rows of floating feathery tulle and lace, fanning out into a train that was longer in the back than the front and was designed to show off the crystal studded heels she’d be wearing and also the matching coat. The coat, of course, she’s left upstairs. Damnit.

The ground was frozen solid, what little not covered in fluffy white snow feeling like cement beneath her bare feet. She gathered her skirts, her skin still flushed and warm from the adrenaline of the escape, and she ignored the beginnings of numbness in her toes, hurrying towards the stables.

There had been a plan, since they'd be going to the other side of the castle for the reception in the great hall, to have the "newlywed car" be a gilded sleigh pulled by reindeer. Yes, fucking reindeer. No horses for the Starks, no, they had to go find bloody reindeer. Like she was Mrs. Claus running off for a getaway weekend with Santa. She would have preferred a dragon.

Unfortunately there were no dragons to be had, so Dany had to settle for a reindeer.

Along the stables the reindeer were already hooked up to the newlywed sleigh, along with several others that would shepherd guests back and forth. Like Christmas Ubers or something. She could not believe the shit that Robb's family wanted to pull for this wedding. It was seriously the event of the decade, but she was going to throw a massive wrench into that plan.

Dany was surprised she wasn't hearing whistles and dogs barking-- wolves in the case of the Starks-- being set off to hunt her down and drag her bodily back to the godswood to continue the wedding. "What are you doing?" she hissed to herself, her head buzzing.

Running away from a miserable future.

Gods, she had to get out of here. She was freezing, she had no shoes, and honestly she just had to ride this psychosis to the end and figure it out later.

Missandei, her maid of honor, would undoubtedly know what happened when no wedding occurred and she’d hightail it to her hotel at the B&B in Wintertown, so Dany might as well head there. She glanced sideways.

At the reindeer.

“Bingpot,” she muttered, sprinting to the sleigh. She clambered up and into the monstrosity, silver and bedecked with bells and ribbon. The reindeer hitched up to it turned its head to curiously peer in her direction. She lifted reins and called out. “Mush!”

Nothing happened.

Hmm. “Go!” she shouted. She tugged on the reins. She knew how to ride horses and grew up with them. Reindeer were just fluffy horses with antlers right? Nothing again. The reindeer turned its head back around and carried on eating from the container attached to the hitching post. Dany closed her eyes, dripping her head. “What are you doing?” she repeated, rhis time a whisper.

“Yes, what are you doing?”

The voice, raspy and deep behind her, came from beneath the flannel blankets piled in the seat behind her. Dany screamed, throwing the reins in the air, startled and that did it. The reindeer pulled his head from the food and immediately began to run, making for the open gate.

Damn a sleigh moved fast.

Wind caught at her skirts, pulling them back around her and she flailed, caught off guard and not secure in her seat.

Owner of the voice cursed, tossed a cigarette she hadn’t even smelled or noticed over the side into the snow and jumped over from the back into the seat beside her, a blur of black leather and denim. He snatched the reins and pulled on them, bringing the reindeer to a manageable trot, and brought the sleigh over to the side of the main drive out of the castle grounds.

And the man she was in love with— who was definitely not her finance— whipped his head around, dark curls flying about his pale face and his gray eyes flashing.

“Daenerys Targaryen what the fuck are you doing?”

Dany didn’t even think— she hadn’t so far— blurting out: “I’m running away.”

There was a quiet beat, and then he smiled, long and slow, white teeth flashing canine like against his dark beard. “Well. We best get going then.”

And Jon snow turned away from her and snapped the reins, the reindeer running off and speeding the sleigh away from Winterfell.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #fic teaser #snowxstormworld #joneryswinterwonderland2023

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silver-screen-divas · 5 days

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Films from the next decade or so include The Hucksters (1947), Show Boat (1951), The Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952), Lone Star (1952), Mogambo, nominated for a Best Actress Academy Award (1953), The Barefoot Contessa (1954), Bhowani Junction (1956), The Sun Also Rises (1957) and On the Beach (1959). Off-camera, she could be witty and pithy, as in her assessment of director John Ford, who directed Mogambo ("The meanest man on earth. Thoroughly evil. Adored him!"). In The Barefoot Contessa, she played the role of doomed beauty Maria Vargas, a fiercely independent woman who goes from Spanish dancer to international movie star with the help of a Hollywood director played by Humphrey Bogart, with tragic consequences. Gardner's decision to accept the role was influenced by her own lifelong habit of going barefoot. Gardner played the role of Guinevere in Knights of the Round Table (1953), with actor Robert Taylor as Sir Lancelot. Indicative of her sophistication, she portrayed a duchess, a baroness and other women of noble lineage in her films of the 1950s.

Gardner played the role of Soledad in The Angel Wore Red (1960) with Dirk Bogarde as the male lead. She was billed between Charlton Heston and David Niven for 55 Days at Peking (1963), which was set in China during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900. The following year, she played her last major leading role in the critically acclaimed The Night of the Iguana (1964), based upon a Tennessee Williams play, and starring Richard Burton as an atheist clergyman and Deborah Kerr as a gentle artist traveling with her aged poet grandfather. John Huston directed the movie in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, insisting on making the film in black-and-white – a decision he later regretted because of the vivid colors of the flora. Gardner received billing below Burton, but above Kerr. She was nominated for a Golden Globe Award for Best Actress in a Motion Picture – Drama and BAFTA Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role for her performance.

#ava gardner #beautiful #beauty #actress #hollywood #star #classic #diva #vintage #classic hollywood

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not-neverland06 · 8 months

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Broken Machinery

Pt. 7 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: We’re nearly at the end, if you’ve stayed this long, thank you so much, this being my first fan fiction, these characters mean a lot to me.

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Elijah Kamski and his greasy man-pony, Hank’s insult towards Perkins (that scene still makes me laugh),

Word Count: 5.3k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You and Hank were standing side-by-side in the snow. It was the closest Connor had ever seen either of you, Hank’s phone was outstretched between you both while you leaned in to hear whoever was on the other side.

Connor got out of the car and made his way over to you both. Your face was pale as you leaned against the car, disbelief streaking across your features. “Is everything okay?”

Stress levels were high for the both of you, Connor could only assume that whoever had been on the other side of that call hadn’t brought you good news.

When it was clear you weren’t going to talk, Hank did, “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants-”

“It was a peaceful protest,” you were glaring at Hank, you seemed more angry than concerned.

“Well Chris was almost shot! Doesn’t sound very fucking peaceful to me!”

You scoffed and kicked off the car, “They shot first, and the deviants spared them. It sounds like the androids showed more humanity than the fucking humans did.”

“Chris just became a father, you want to be the one to tell his daughter that her daddy died so some robots-“

“That’s the thing, Hank, he didn’t die! They didn’t kill him, they spared him, have you ever taken your head out of your ass long enough to ask yourself if you’re on the right side of this war?” You gave Connor a long look before you started your way to Kamski’s house.

Hank shook his head and kicked at the snow. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Judging off your diet and exercise habits, I’d say a heart attack is the most likely cause of death.”

Hank slowly turned towards Connor, murder in his glare, “The fuck, Connor?”

“Are you coming?” You were already at the door, waiting for them both.

“Yeah, yeah, just having all my life choices judged by a fucking android.”

Connor ignored Hank’s anger, as he’s gotten used to doing and focuses on a strange feeling in his core component. It felt twitchy, wrong. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

It was too late, you’d already rung the doorbell and the door had already been opened. An RT600 was standing there, hair up in a pony and barefoot on the carpet. “Hi,” this was the most polite Connor had seen Hank. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department, I’m here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

The android's face warmed immediately, “Please, come in.” You entered first, clearly eager to be out of the cold. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.”

You took a look around the room at the art before throwing yourself down in a chair. “He’s so rich he has his own waiting room,” you scoffed and picked at the arm of the chair. Hank sat down in the chair next to yours, arms crossed and waiting.

You turned slightly so you didn’t have to face him.

Hank did the same.

You both were behaving like children. Connor sometimes wished he had more mature humans. “Nice girl,” the comment seemed out of place for someone like the Lieutenant, who despised androids so much.

“You’re right she’s really pretty,” and she was, but Connor found your features more appealing. He probably should have voiced the second part of his thought out loud because your stress level spiked immediately after his comment.

“Gavin asked me out,” it was incredibly out of place in the conversation, but you were looking at Hank, not Connor. “Said he wanted to apologize for how much of a dick he had been lately.” Connor found his motivations suspicious, even when you two were arguing Gavin was highly aroused by your presence.

“So he thinks schmoozing you with some cheap wine and a crappy Italian restaurant is gonna do that?”

You laughed and the previous irritation from your comment left Connor, slightly. What was this strange tight feeling in his chest?

“Jesus, how’d you know?”

“Please, I’ve been at this a lot longer than Reed has. I know all the moves.”

You fake gagged and covered your ears, “I do not want to know about your ‘moves.’”

“Come on, you don’t want to hear how your old man used to be a lady killer?” There was an awkward stutter in his voice when he said ‘your old man,’ but Hank continued on.

You were staring at Hank, heart beating faster and your eyes widened. You only allowed a moment to lull in between his sentence and yours. “Awkwardly calling the barista sweetheart, does not count as being a lady killer.” Your and Hank’s laughter filled the room after your comment, both of you smiling more than he had ever seen before.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Connor stopped in front of the portrait of Elijah Kamski, his creator. The laughter had stopped a few minutes ago, the tension from outside trailing off with it. You didn’t know why you had gotten so angry at Hank out at the car.

Maybe you were still a little emotionally frail, after telling Connor everything that had happened between you and Hank, the other night. You hadn’t been able to go back to sleep so he had offered to hold you and tell you a story, apparently he had thousands on file.

It was nice listening to his voice all night, you didn’t even feel that tired after not getting any sleep.

“How’s it feel, to be meeting your creator, Connor?”

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

The light aura surrounding the three of you left at Hank’s voice, “Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face, I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You’re not the only one.

Why had, whatever omnipotent presence watched over you, chosen to make you the way they had? Why give you trial after trial of hardship? Was it all to prepare you for moments like when you lost your legs, or Cole? Why even make you go through that in the first place?

Yes, you did come out stronger and more resilient. But you also became colder, lonelier, sadder than you had ever been before. You couldn’t open up to people, you couldn’t love people the right way.

You’d rather put all your feelings into a machine rather than a human, because that would be easier. An android could never love you, and therefore never disappoint you. Your hopes would never be crushed under Connor’s feet because you had none.

The girl chose the middle of your emotional crisis to call you back into another room. “Elijah will see you now.”

Two more RT600’s were talking together by the pool. Elijah was still swimming laps, you called out to him in case he hadn’t heard you come in. “Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please.” Of course, rich bastards like him always had to flout their superiority over the lower class. You called us in here, asshole.

The RT600’s watched you carefully as you rounded the pool and waited for him by a set of chairs. Ew, is that a speedo? He took the robe from Chloe and wrapped his hair up in a pony. Double douche points.

Hank seemed to be thinking the same thing, if his judgmental side-eye was anything to go by.

Why were you even here?

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is detective Y/L/N, and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, officers?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants, thought you might be the best person to ask about them,” Elijah gave you a look that reminded you a little too much of Gavin.

“We know you left CyberLife years ago but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don't know.” Elijah didn’t seem to be interested in what Hank had to say, he was more curious about Connor.

“Deviants,” he started, “fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” Jeehzus, this dude loves the sound of his own voice. “Isn't it ironic?”

Connor finally spoke up, he seemed to be the only one out of the three of you that really held Elijah’s eye.

His creator was… underwhelming. He didn’t seem much like a genius, more of a narcissist with enough money to feed all of Detroit. He also didn’t seem very concerned with the state of the world right now.

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski. It’s quite a serious matter.” He didn’t appreciate how flippant Elijah was being.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” It certainly wasn’t good.

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution-”

You cut Hank off, “Peaceful, it still remains a peaceful revolution.”

Hank shoots you a look that keeps you quiet and he continues. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah was looking at you now, “Tell me, detective, do you empathize with the deviants?”

You straightened at his attention and held a defensive look on your features. “They haven’t hurt anyone, so far they’re the only ones being hurt. All I think is that perhaps people are twisting this story into something more evil than it is.”

Connor thought you were thinking with too much emotion, not enough logic. Androids didn’t get to disobey, they had one purpose and they carried it out, that’s all.

The thought came unbidden and took him by surprise, that didn’t sound like his own thoughts. That seemed like something his programming was forcing onto him.

Elijah nodded, “Empathy, it’s a tricky thing, give too much and it might hurt you, too little and it hurts others. What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Whose side was he on?

Connor looked to you, he wanted you safe.

“I’m on the human’s side, of course.” You were shaking your head beside him. He thought you would be happy, why were you so difficult to read?

“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you,” Elijah stepped closer and both you and the Lieutenant leaned in.

What did you humans want from him?

“What do you really want?”

“Im sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at,” he was sick of this. Break his programming, follow his orders. No one was being clear with what he was supposed to do and it was messing with his software.

“Chloe?” The RT600 walked over, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘the Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see.” He faced the android, his hand trailing over her face and shoulders in a strange caress, and from the way your face was scrunching Connor could tell you felt uncomfortable by the display.

“Magnificent, isn’t she? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever.” He released her face with a slight push and she looked right at Connor, staring deep into his eyes, he straightened his tie.

“Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being,” Elijah bent down and pulled something out of the drawer between the two chairs. “With a soul,” he turned around hands in the air, and in one was a gun. He walked over to Connor and handed it to him, handle first, “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He gently pushed Chloe into a kneeling position. He took Connor’s hand in his own and pointed the gun at the center of the androids forehead.

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here.”

You followed after Hank, “Come on, Connor. Let’s go.”

Hank waved at Kamski, “Sorry to get you outta your pool,” you both we’re ready to leave, waiting for him. But he was stuck, gun in hand, staring at Chloe.

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

Hank was insistent on leaving, “That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.” But you, you were just watching him, staring at him with equal amounts of curiosity and apprehension, waiting to see what he would choose.

“Pull the trigger.”

“Connor, don’t!”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Two conflicting orders, Connor wasn’t sure what to do. He was lost, his LED circling a steady yellow as he battled between the two orders, he looked to you.

It all stilled, he couldn’t hear Elijah or Hank, he couldn’t feel the gun in his hand. You were just standing there, waiting for him. “It’s your choice, Connor.”

He looked down into Chloe’s eyes, his finger on the trigger, but he stopped. There was something there, she was innocent in all of this, she had no say in what was happening. There was something in her eyes that reminded him too much of you.

He handed the gun back to Kamski. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” what? What was he? “I'm not a deviant.” Did he actually want to say that? Or was that just another program he was forced to follow?

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” He helped Chloe up to her feet with a care that wasn’t there when he had shoved the gun into Connor’s hand. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy. A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

Hank had wrapped an arm around you and was now wrapping one around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get outta here.”

The three of you were at the door when Kamski spoke again, “By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

He could feel the two of you watching him as he walked back towards the car. “Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank’s question caused him to think back to what he saw in Chloe’s eyes.

“I just saw that girl's eyes… and I couldn’t… that’s all.” Connor wasn’t sure if it was wise to tell you the exact reason he couldn’t, to tell you he saw you inside of her. Saw another version of himself leaving you behind to die on the rooftop.

But you wouldn’t let up, “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go…” You and Hank were sharing another one of your irritating looks.

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, I told you I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looked down at him, “Maybe you did the right thing.” You gave Connor a gentle pat on the shoulder as you followed Hank back to the car. Leaving Connor to wonder:

When did he start making his own choices?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

TALK TO AMANDA

Something blue, in the distance, caught his eye. Connor walked away from the bridge that would lead him to Amanda and instead followed after the bright blue beacon. It was something that could almost mimic a shrine, a device sat in the middle, awaiting an android handprint. When Connor moved closer, the synthetic skin of his hand pulled back. The ground shook in the distance, but nothing else happened.

He approached Amanda on the ice, it seemed to crack beneath his feet as he went. Logically, he knew he couldn’t fall through, but he was afraid of what the instability of the zen garden meant for him.

“After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war.” The androids had led a peaceful demonstration in downtown Detroit, one that quickly turned violent when SWAT teams in raid gear had started attacking them. It was the first time androids had fought back.

You had been raving all this morning about how the news was twisting it around to make them sound like terrorists when all it had been was self defense.

“The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

“I thought Kamski knew something, I was wrong.”

“Maybe he did… But you chose not to ask.”

Connor chose not to needlessly take a life.

But the fact that he chose at all is most likely what has Amanda staring at him so distrustfully.

“I chose not to play his twisted little game! There was no reason to kill that android!” Kill, when did Connor start thinking that androids could feel death? “Wh- Why did Kamski leave CyberLife? What happened?” His mind went back to the RK200 model, what were they hiding from him?

“It’s an old story, Connor. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

“I’m not a unique model, am I? How many Connors are there?”

“I expect you to find answers, not ask questions.” Her head tilted as she examined him. “Have you experienced anything unusual recently? Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson? Or perhaps, the detective. She seems to cause a lot of malfunctions in your system. Is she the cause of all this turmoil?”

“I’m beginning to have thoughts… that are not part of my program.” He didn’t care if she knew the truth, he wanted to leave. He wanted to leave her and go find you, because the sudden interest she held for you was concerning. “Maybe… Maybe I’ve been compromised too…” he didn’t wait for her to dismiss him, he left.

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“But we’re onto something!” Hank approached Fowler, more impassioned than Connor had ever seen him, “We- We just need more time. I’m sure we can-”

“Hank, you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war!”

Your arms left their crossed position, you’d left the sling behind a few days ago. “So we’re gonna leave the fate of our country, our world, in the hands of some asshole like Perkins?! Fuck that!”

“Y/N, it's out of my hands! You think I don’t understand the enormity of this situation, we’re talking about national security!”

Both you and the Lieutenant were ganging up on him now, it was causing the captain's stress levels to rise as Hank approached. “Fuck that! You can’t just pull the plug now.” It was times like these that the similarities between you and Hank truly showed, perhaps not in looks, but he had clearly had a heavy hand in forming who you are as a person.

“We’re so close!”

“Hank, you’re always saying you can’t stand androids! Jesus, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this! And Y/N, you know the deal, you finished the case and you’d be transferred, shouldn’t you be happy about that?!”

Hank turned towards you, “Transferred?” It was clear he didn’t know about your plans on leaving. You winced as you looked away from him.

Your voice was quieter than it had been the entire time you were in the office, “Gavin, would be taking over as your partner. I couldn’t do it anymore, Hank,” you turned towards him, “I just couldn't. It hurt the way you would look at me and not even see me. So, I requested a transfer.” You turned towards Fowler, stress levels at an all time high. “But that shit doesn’t matter anymore! So much has changed, I don’t want the transfer, okay? We’re about to crack this case!”

“For God’s sake, Jefferey, can’t you back me up this one time?”

Fowler shook his head, he seemed as disappointed as the both of you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re back on homicide. And the android,” you moved defensively in front of Connor, “is to be sent back to CyberLife.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, when I’m cold and in the ground. Fuck that and fuck you.” You stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind you, Connor wanted to follow after you and check on you. But it would be smarter to finish the rest of the meeting.

Fowler watched you go, a sad sigh leaving him. “I’m sorry Hank, I did everything I could, but it’s over.”

Hank pushed off the desk and followed behind you. Connor nodded a quiet goodbye to the captain.

TALK TO YOUR PARTNERS

He approached the desks where you and Hank were already in a heated conversation. “-Gavin! You were gonna abandon me to fucking Gavin?”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Hank? Look, you’ve changed, for the better, during this case. You- I feel like I can see my dad coming back to me, but before… Before, I hated coming to work everyday, knowing you would be waiting there for me. Waiting to hurt me and to blame me. How would you feel seeing the only person you have left blame you for the worst night of your life?” You didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “I’ll tell you how you’d feel, hopeless and tired. I was tired, Hank, okay? But I don’t want that anymore, I want to stay your partner, Connor’s partner! I’m not letting this go!”

Hank didn’t say anything, he just stared at you for a long while before finally pulling you into a hug. It was awkward, and he seemed unsure where to put his arms. But Connor could see you squeezing him tightly against you, a desperation in your movements as it seemed all the stress you carried on your shoulders melted away.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You shook your head against Hank’s chest, holding onto him a little longer before you both finally stepped back. There was a lightness to the both of you that Connor hadn’t seen before. Hank slumped in his chair and you took a seat on the edge of Connor’s desk, he joined you there. “We’ll be talking about Gavin, later,” there was a nearly audible gulp as you nodded your head in agreement.

Connor looked towards Fowler’s office. “We can’t just give up. I know we could have solved this case!” You were picking at your hands again in anxiety, it was instinct for Connor to slap your hands apart and intertwine your fingers.

Hank eyed your joined hands, “We’ll be talking about that, too.” He turned towards Connor, “You’re going back to CyberLife?”

“I have no choice-”

“Connor, they’ll destroy you! I’m not letting you go back!”

He tried to give you a comforting smile, but he was starting to feel a strange pressure on his chest that stopped it from being convincing. “We don’t have a say in the matter, Y/N. I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…” Your hand grew tighter around his own.

Hank leaned forward in his chair, addressing the both of you. “What if we’re on the wrong side?”

You threw your free hand up in the air, “Now he gets it.”

Hank held up a hand, “Save the attitude. What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

Connor understood where Hank was coming from, but this war was bigger than both of them. This was the fate of millions in their hands, this was your fate, in Connor’s hands. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could have stopped it. But now it’s too late…”

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place… You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor.”

Connor shook his head, “No, I saw Y/N,” your gaze turned towards him. “I looked into her eyes and I saw someone I-” You what, loved? You can’t love, you’re an android. “I saw someone to protect.”

You nudged his shoulder with your own, “That’s empathy Connor.”

Hank continued, “Empathy’s a human emotion.”

“I know it hasn’t always been easy… but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you,” he gave you a long look. “Both of you. That’s not just my Social Relations program talking,” you laughed, “I- I really mean that. At least, I think I do.”

The doors opened and you all turned your heads to see Perkins walk into the station. “Well, well, here comes Perkins-”

You cut Hank off in anger, “That motherfucker.”

“Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

There was a new determination in Connor, he wasn’t ready to leave you and the Lieutenant. “We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.” He was getting worked up at the idea of getting one over on the FBI. His hands moving around as he spoke, taking your arm with him, unwilling to let go.

“There’s no choice! You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.”

You smiled at Hank, an insidious smile that held nothing but mischief behind it. “Unless… You could help us, Hank. All we need is five minutes. Five minutes to look at the evidence and get out, that’s all.”

“I know the solution is in there!”

“Connor-”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLIfe will destroy me.” That had the both of you tightening your hands around each other. “Five minutes. It’s all I ask.”

Hank looked between the two of you, anxiety pressing down upon Connor as he waited for a response from the Lieutenant. Finally he let out a long huff, slowly standing from his chair and moving towards both you and Connor. “The key to the basement is in my drawer. Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.”

You moved forwards quickly grabbing a key out from one of the Lieutenants unorganized drawers. The both of you jumped in surprise at Hank’s next choice words, “Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!” Your head whipped around towards Hank, Connor was dragging you away as you tried to watch Hank beat up the FBI agent.

“Y/N, we’re on a time limit!”

“Fine! You ruin all my fun! God I really wanted to be the one to beat that slimy motherfucker up.”

You led Connor towards the Archive Room, both of you checking over your shoulders. Just as you were at the door Gavin, of all people, walked in.

“Hey, Y/N,” he stopped at the sight of your still intertwined hands. “What the fuck is this?” You both ignored him, your hand bringing the key towards the door. “I’m talking to you! Where’re you going?” There was satisfaction in Connor at the sound of the door slamming into Gavin’s face.

You pulled Connor down the stairs, pulling the key out again as you were faced with a glass partition. Inside a large podium was waiting for you with a password. “Hank’s password, shit, I don’t know.”

Connor moved you aside and pulled up possible options, “What would a hard-boiled eccentric police Lieutenant choose?” Connor and you shared a look, “FUCKINPASSWORD.” Connor rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“I should have known, he uses it for everything, he’s got no sense of cyber security.” You released each other to examine each piece of evidence. Connor scanned the androids, the deviant from the rooftop with the hostage could be activated, but he wouldn’t tell him what he needed to know. The one that threw you off the roof could no longer be activated, nor Carlos Ortiz’s, it seemed the only chance he would have would be the one from the broadcasting tower.

Connor replayed the clip from the interrogation with Carlos Ortiz’s android, The truth is inside. He looked on the wall of evidence. What was it trying to tell me? His eyes landed on the statuette next to the tablet. When he shook it, it sounded hollowed out, and like there was something inside of it.

Inside there was a map of the Ferndale neighborhood, it was somewhere inside that area.

He began focusing on the one android that would be useful to him, the security technician from the broadcasting tower.

Connor instructed you on the parts to bring him while he worked on getting it repaired enough to be reactivated for longer than a minute. When it’s LED finally turned back on Connor began questioning it, unsure how long it would be working for.

“It’s dark… Where- Where am I?” It’s optical processors must have been damaged when Connor shot it, it was staring at him from unseeing eyes.

“I’m a deviant, like you. I need your help, I want to go to Jericho.” You remained silent as you watched the two interact, going through other pieces of evidence on the wall.

“I don’t recognize your voice. You’re not one of us. I’ll never tell you where Jericho is!” Connor sighed and reached up to deactivate the android again.

You waited until he had done so to approach him with the tablet that contained Markus’s voice. “You can change your voice, right? Like you do in interrogations?”

He almost kissed you, maybe some humans were smart. He copied Markus’s voice, your eyes watching him in wonder. He reactivated the android, “You did good.”

“Markus?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re going to Jericho, I just need you to tell me where it is.”

“Of course,” the android offered his arm and Connor immediately took it, searching it’s memories for locations specifically in Ferndale.

JERICHO LOCATION FOUND

“You’re not Markus!” Connor quickly deactivated the android, he turned towards you ready to share the good news when another voice rang out.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you…”

“Pretty pathetic, Gavin, sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

“Shut up, Y/N, don’t think you’re getting out of this by batting your eyelashes like you always do.” You rolled your eyes, but Connor could see your hand discreetly making its way towards your holster.

“Don’t do it Gavin,” Connor’s hands were raised, hopefully placating Gavin. “I know how to stop the deviants!”

“You’re off the case. And now, it’s gonna be definitive.”

Connor ducked, yanking you down with him just as Gavin took his first shot. He managed to shoot him once before Connor disarmed him. He blocked his punches, striking Gavin in the face and knocking him down to the ground. But he wouldn’t give up, it seemed the only thing Gavin was willing to put effort into was taking Connor down. He slammed him against the podium, but Gavin managed to block his punch and shoved him back to the ground.

Gavin had just managed to scoop his gun back up, but then he crumpled down onto the ground. You were standing over him, gun in hand, the handle facing Gavin. You’d pistol whipped him. “He was a bad lay and a worse cop. I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” You quickly helped Connor to his feet.

“So… You wanna go to Jericho?”

#Broken Machinery #connor rk800 x reader #Connor rk800 #Connor rk800 xfem!reader #Detroit become human #Detroit become human x reader #dbh #dbh x reader

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i-cant-sing · 1 year

Note

Don’t be shy drop some more Gynecologist Miruko

(SNOW'S DRAFTS)

You probably wanted smut but omg imagine this:

Reader coming to the clinic because she's pregnant. But she doesn't come alone, she comes with her husband. They've both been trying for a while and now, they're finally expecting.

Miruko however is pissed af because not only did you sleep with that thing, but you also brought him along to your appointments so now she won't be able to do medical malpractice on you without him noticing.

Or could she?

Gynaecologist Miruko, who somehow convinces you that your husband is cheating, probably by faking some reports that says that you got an STD from your husband, and he had to be sleeping with someone else to get that STD right?

You're not fully convinced, but she has planted the seed of doubt in your mind. And that's just enough to begin the ending of any marriage.

Well, that and some pills to make you paranoid.

And then Miruko also convinces your husband that you won't survive this pregnancy, that you should abort this baby if you want to live and Miruko tells him that he must carefully convince you to abort this baby because you are in a very delicate condition, and could endanger yourself and your baby because of some hormonal imbalance.

Your husband, now conflicted because as much as he wants this baby, he doesn't want it at the risk of losing you. And he doesn't know how to bring up the subject because Dr Miruko has practically called you mentally unstable because of the pregnancy hormones, so when he returns home for dinner and musters up the courage to bring up the subject, you immediately accuse him of cheating. Your husband is now full on convinced of you being crazy, and things only turn worse when you heard him mention abortion.

He starts approaching you to calm you down, but you misunderstand it as him wanting to hurt your baby, so you throw your plate at him before running out of the house barefoot and crazed, your husband calling behind you but you manage to lose him.

And where do you go, all alone and cold and scared?

To Dr Miruko's home of course.

She had made sure to give you her address and phone number if you ever need any help outside of her clinic. How kind of her, to open her home to her patients.

Where she's waiting to comfort you by smothering you with her thighs

#yandere gynaecologist miruko #yandere miruko #yandere miruko x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere rumi usagiyama #yandere rumi

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poorwritingandstalecoffee · 1 year

Text

the ghost of you

Summary: Y/n can see and speak to dead people and Larissa hires her to become the new supernatural phenomena teacher. They develop a intimacy and nearly lose it one night when Y/n comes to close to death.

Word count: 2,960

Note: I changed the weather season in the series to help fit this fic better. Also at this point, Larissa already knows about the Hyde

Ratings: 16+, mentions of death, blood, gore, body parts

You didn’t know how you got here, but you knew they were calling you. Singing their birdsong of death and sorrow only your ice-cold ears could hear. Flecks of dazzling snow fell from the black sky and kissed your cold body. You looked up toward the obscured heavens and smiled into the darkness, relishing the cold and the feather-like touches and whispers of the dead.

You came to Nevermore that year seeking the open teaching position for an educator on supernatural phenomena. Your connection to the dead gave you a unique perspective on the subject, and Larissa was quick to hire you, not hiding her own curiosity towards your presence. As the year progressed, the two of you grew closer, and she couldn't deny her infatuation with the strange woman who spoke to ghosts and ghouls alike. Both of you found sanctuary in each other. You marveled at her goddess-like presence, her shapeshifting ability, and her constant care towards the Nevermore students, immediately falling in love with her unwavering protectiveness towards outcasts and her intimidating nature. At the same time, she was instantly drawn to your darkness, the gothic, sad yet comforting air of death and decay that seemed to hang around you. Even more so, she couldn't deny she found your beauty akin to Death’s angel, and within a few months of your stay at Nevermore, both of you had become an item.

That night Larissa was up late, as usual, going through paperwork for the Academy when she saw your pale, ghost-like figure walking down below towards the woods. She knew, due to your communication with the dead, that you were sometimes compelled to sleepwalk and even fall into a trance to their dead siren song while awake. However, it was nearing midnight, and the events of a dead Nevermore student and a Hyde on the loose instilled a fresh heavy set of fear in her for your life.

She had turned toward her window for a break from staring at her laptop when she saw you, with your white lace nightgown on, walking barefoot through the ice-cold winter field toward the dark woods. Terror gripped her as her mind conjured images of your bloody, blue-dead body lying in the snow. Larissa raced toward the door, praying she could catch you before your feet hit the treeline.

As she sprinted through the quad and toward your shrinking form, she could just make out your hand shimmering in the moonlight. You were reaching for someone invisible to her eye, but Larissa knew they were pulling you—calling you toward something lying deep in the forest. Halfway towards you, tears began streaming down her eyes because the darkness was nearly swallowing you, and she could hear something howling cries of horror and hunger in the distance beyond you.

The dead were calling you, screaming tales of sorrow and bloodshed, fresh on the ground. A normie was murdered by a monster you had heard whispers about. The dead always find purchase in your ear, telling you tales of woe from the den of a monster who grew from the body of a boy. And tonight, that mound of flesh, claws, and teeth was feasting on the mangled body of a normie individual unfortunate enough to take an impulsive camping trip in the winter woods. He was crying out your name from the black abyss, screaming for you to save him, guide him, pull him from the depths of a darkness he didn't know how to navigate.

You never knew how they came by your name—Death’s idea of a merciful irony, you suppose. Call out to the woman in white, that who is cursed to hear your never-ending screams of terror and cradle your befallen soul toward sanctuary or damnation. You only knew to heed their calls of vengeance or salvation with an indifferent heart and benevolent hands.

Walking through the cold, the air stilled at your presence, as if the atmosphere knew you had business with the dead and dared not disturb your date with Death. Your eyes glimmered in the moonlight, obscured with a swirling layer of white color indicative of your enchantment with the dead. Awakened by someone whispering your name in one ear, your eyes shot open but not with your familiar eye color. A perk of speaking to ghosts is falling victim to their dead siren song, as you call it, and you take on a habit of walking off night or day with the voice of a ghost or ghoul dancing in your ears like black roses swaying in the wind. Reality became a blur, and anyone aside from Larissa could mistake you for sleepwalking—or daywalking.

Y/n, where are you? Are you there? There's no more light, and it's cold here. Y/n, please, it hurts; I don't know where my body is. Everything is like ice, and I don't want to go yet. Y/n, I'm scared. Are you there—

“Y/n?! Y/n it's Larissa!”

Someone was calling you from land that felt very far away. Their voice sounded underwater, and you swore they sounded so…familiar, like the warmth, love, and kisses that never faded from your skin.

Y/n! Help me, please!

Your head turned toward the voice in the woods, and your hands reached for the cries. “I hear you, I hear you. Follow my voice. Listen to it, use it to find your way through the endless night. Can you hear me, little soul?”

Yes! I can—

“Y/n, stop!”

A voice like sunlight was in your ear again, and you jerked towards it, searching for the person on the end of it. Two worlds were calling you, and your freezing body was trapped in between. The wind picked up, blowing towards the looming trees and through your hair, urging your body towards the darkness and the whispers of anguish.

The first few tall forms passed you, their twigs reaching out like limbs and the leaves brushing your feet and hands like the fleeting caresses of nature among death. You called out to the dead boy again, hoping he could find you in the darkness. By then, your fingers, toes, and lips were a deadly blue, but you couldn't feel the painful pinpricks coursing through your skin.

Y/n!

You turned and came face to face with the mauled and bloody remains of a human face. Black-red blood was pouring out of gashes lashed across his body, and you could see the insides of his ribcage. What was supposed to occupy his heart cavity was nothing more than a bloody, frozen, black space with steadily rotting muscle clinging to a spine. The remnants of a lifeform taken by sheer monstrous hunger and insanity reached out toward you in agony.

Usually, most people screamed, ran, or fainted at the sight of a dead person, but you weren't most people, and you understand more profoundly how much these wandering ghosts needed you. Because without you, they were condemned to wander the earth in search of their door to the Underworld while you held the key.

Quickly and quietly, you took him in your arms and hushed his cries of pain and sadness for a life not fulfilled. Your numb hands ran over his bloody hair, and whispers of mercy and relief fell from your lips. You told him how to find his way through the gates of death and meet his eternal end—a knowledge from somewhere ancient and sacred you only passed along. You let go and kissed his hollow dead forehead in a final farewell; you always did feel like a mother to the deceased. They found comfort and mercy in your arms while you were willing to help them walk the path toward an eternity not your own.

Sheer terror gripped Larissa’s soul as she watched you walk into the dark woods. Her lungs were burning, and the cold air slapped her face relentlessly, but she pushed through, sprinting toward your fading form. In futile attempts to wake you from your trance, scream after scream flew from her mouth, but you were deaf to the living world.

Howls of pure animalistic fury rang out in the distance, and she flung herself through the air toward you. As she drew nearer, she could see the flicker of a shape next to you—red and black in the moonlight—she faltered in her run from the pure shock of seeing a ghost for the first time. No one ever tells you what it feels like to see the dead walking like the living, how jarring it is to the human mind to see the ultimate outcome of its lifetime. It's indescribable, even to you, bearing witness to Life and Death joining hands in tragic matrimony.

As the bloody figure fades into the air, Larissa’s attention turns to your freezing presence, and she gasps at your ghostly pallor. You are as white as the dead themselves, and she grows even more afraid at the thought of you closer to Death’s hand.

Racing towards you, she collides with your cold body and clutches at your arms to pull you into her. “Y/n! Darling, can you hear me?! Wake up; we have to go now!”

The cloudy white fades from your eyes, and you startle at her sudden presence and voice next to your ear. “Larissa, what—what are you doing here?”

You look around at the nighttime, and chills rake over your newly awakened body. “Wha-what am I-I d-doing h-here?” Your teeth clatter from the nerves in your body firing off painful signals from the cold, and for the first time that night, you're afraid.

Worry for your safety is etched into her face, and she pulls you from the dangerous woods while glancing at the ominous black trees. Larissa wraps you inside her oversized coat and opts to pick you up because the sounds of the Hyde in the distance have only increased, and she's horrified of you meeting your death.

“I saw you were walking off dazed into the woods, and when I heard that monster howling, all I could think about was you bleeding out in the snow and your body freezing to death.”

Larissa could feel the ice-cold temperature of your body seeping through her clothes. She looked toward the outline of the building, and the telltale sign of your blue lips spurred her on to run faster toward the warmth and safety of the Academy. The air came out in short puffs of wintery air, sending swirls of white clouds into the sky. Larissa pushed from her mind images of you lying dead in her arms because she’ll be damned if she lets you slip away from her that easily.

By the time she made it to the entrance, threw the doors open, and sprinted up to her office to place you in front of her fireplace, your eyes were closed with flecks of ice dotting your eyelashes. Panic shoots through her at your unresponsiveness, and Larissa hears herself chanting, “no, no, no, no.”

“Y/n wake up, darling,” she pats your cheek lightly and rubs your arms furiously to help your blood flow faster. “Y/n damnit, listen to me, please. Just open your eyes for me, my love.”

She brushes the melted snow from your face and body and presses you closer to her body. Larissa lays her forehead against your cold one and whispers pleas over and over with her eyes closed in a steadily encroaching grief. It was far too soon for her, and she was still trying to figure out how to press down her fear of rejection and tell you she loved loves you. So no, you couldn't go yet. She has so many things she wants to say to you, show you, experience with you—fuck, she wanted a life with you, and it was ending before it had even begun.

Something wet splattered on your eyes and ran down your cheeks, jerking you back to consciousness. Blood rushed through your cheeks, and you strained through the heavy cold fatigue to open your eyes. Looking up through your wet eyelashes, you see Larissa crying above you and clutching onto your body as if it's going to fade away as your ghosts do.

Reaching up with tiredness you resent, you graze your hand across Larissa’s cheeks to wipe her tears. Her blue eyes jolt open at the touch, and a cry of overwhelming relief leaves her. You softly smile at her because, finally, you are under her sunlight, and the cold darkness is long gone.

Tear-filled kisses rain down on your warming face, and you wrap your arms around her neck. She can't help but pull you up to lay her head on your chest and listen to your heart because she needs to know you are real and alive for her.

“Do not ever do that again! Do you hear me?!” Larissa screams into your chest before looking up into your pained but understanding eyes.

“I thought I was going to lose you—I nearly did-you almost fucking died on me, Y/n! Just because you talk to the dead does not mean you get to join them on a whim, okay?!” Her words were coming out like hot, quickening fire, and despite their anger and fear, you were happy she was scolding you rather than crying over your body.

Calm, tired, yet apologetic e/c eyes meet heartbreakingly tear-filled cerulean ones, and you run your fingers through her hair, thinking of all the ways you could have lost her tonight. “I know, and I am so sorry I put you through that. One minute I'm sleeping, and the next, it's like cold fingers grip my hands, and voices are whispering in my ears, drawing me towards something.”

You look down, and the feelings of ice and death come back, and solemnity washes over your face. “It's like I was underwater but not at the same time. I couldn't feel anything or hear anything except the voice of a ghost calling to me. It was like he was singing to me in this horribly sad, grieving, anguished voice. I couldn't fight it, my mind was in a haze, and I couldn't think of anything beyond helping him.”

A warm hand tilts your face back up to hers, and concern is laced in Larissa’s eyes as she looks over your face, seeing the truth and sadness in your words and voice.

“Did you—help him, that is? What happened to him?” Her voice was barely a whisper against your skin; she was afraid of what might happen if she spoke any louder of death on a night both of you came so close to it.

“Yes, I did. He was ripped from life by the monster in the woods; he never saw it coming. He didn't know where to go; it was…he couldn't see his way out and needed me to show him where to go.”

Larissa hummed and pressed her forehead back against yours to remind her you were still there. It was too close, way too fucking close. “I'm glad you helped him, but if that thing had snatched you if you had froze–”

“I didn't, Rissa…because you were right there to pull me back.” Your eyes harden, and your voice becomes firmer to make her see that you're still here in her arms.

You see the unchanging fear in her eyes and grab her hand to press it to your heart in confirmation. Whispering against her lips, “Feel me, Larissa, I'm right here. You have me—breathing and whole, and I swear on the dead souls I meet I am not leaving you. I'll crawl back out from my grave to be with you if that is what you need. Because the second I said ‘i love you,’ I gave my heart and soul for you to cherish.”

Your eyes bore into hers with an unwavering intensity of emotion that terrifies and warms her heart so much she nearly forgets how to breathe. “I am yours, Larissa, body and soul for the rest of our eternity.”

In the testament of your words, you kiss her, the last shred of cold leaving your lips in favor of her warmth, and she comes alive with the feeling of you.

Larissa kissed you back with a fervor mixed with the fear of losing and loving you. To her, you were the very breath she breathed, inhaling at your every exhale. You were the ocean to her fire, the stars to her moon, holding a thousand rays of brilliant color in your gaze that she wanted to let rain down on her. You may have promised to love her even in death, but she vowed to follow you down to Hell if necessary.

Pulling back from your kiss, she let her eyes travel over your face before running her thumb over your cheek, nose, and lips, mapping every plane that made up you.

“ I love you too, more than I can even begin to understand or describe. This night proved to me how far I will go for you. And I am yours darling, in life, in death, in heaven and hell if there are such places, I am yours.”

Larissa stands with you in her arms and moves toward her connected bedroom, walking in and laying you down on her bedsheets. She slides in next to you and wraps you in her arms.

You kiss her neck and burrow into her arms in happiness, finally, you are right where you are supposed to be: in her warm embrace.

She hums against your hair, kisses you goodnight atop your head, and whispers, “From now on, you're sleeping with me every night.”

#michelle's works #principal larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems

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clatoera · 4 months

Text

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 2: Barefoot in the Wildest Winter, Catching my Death

Heeeeeey. Welcome back, I call this a mini chapter. It's still almost 3400 words. Thats insane of me. This chapter is

Clove centric/ Clato

20 months after the war/ 7 after the epilogue of ARWBFB

Ironic because the starbucks I wrote this in was so cold my fingers were fucking numb, which you will understand the irony of once you read it.

This is not..intense. It's just a palate cleanser after the Glimmer Prequel I posted this week. I think everyone needed it. I honestly wrote it because we got 10 inches of snow last week and currently are getting multiple more inches as we speak.

Anyway!

Chapter title from Evermore (Taylor Swift)

Masterpost

AO3

Theres also a good bit of cashmere/enobaria mentioned in honor of @bodyelectric77 giving me brain amoebas. I'm just going to tag @kentwells because this whole sequel is your fault. Anyway! Love y'all! love the besties! love everyone! ( I just..love love),

By virtue of the location, the widespread villages littering the biggest mountain range in Panem like sprinkles atop a cupcake, District Two gets substantial snowfall. The kind of snow that allows an extra industry for capitol elites to come and pretend to live like a district citizen in a heated, maintained cabin on the mountainsides, where people can party and celebrate the simplicity of a winter snow in the way that only someone who doesn’t have to worry about keeping heat on can do.

If you were a child in the district without the commitment (Privilege? Curse?) of training, you could celebrate heavy snowfall with snowball fights followed by hot chocolate with your friends in one of your living rooms. If you were a trainee, a possible tribute, snow meant drills in the cold, running despite snow reaching your knees, agility trials on ice. If you were a trainee with just enough of a rebellious streak, snowfall meant you snuck out with the other kids in your class and rode makeshift sleds down the hills otherwise used for terrain testing. And if you were a trainee that got caught, snow meant laying on your back in a bank of it, in shorts and t-shirts, until your skin burned and your body ached. If you were the right kind of District Two training kid- the punishment was worth the glimmer of childhood you got to experience.

The snow was not even the worst part– District Two was extremely cold. Not the type of cold where the cute jackets and scarves produced in District Eight would be sufficient, but the type of bone chilling cold that it was a miracle the majority of the population did not freeze to death by the end of a particularly bad winter. The academy just factored the weather into training– figuring out ways to layer, to stay warm, how to get rest in these types of conditions, and how to keep at peak performance despite below freezing temperatures. The embarrassment of a tribute losing because they lost grip on a weapon (“because of the weather” is an unacceptable excuse), is deeply ingrained in any child who has gone through training in District Two. They considered it to be a privilege to train in such harsh conditions, a leg up on competitors of how to deal with what could be thrown on them in the arena. Weather was not an excuse for failure.

Clove, of course, knows these things. Years later she can handle Brutus’s remarks about her clumsy frozen fingers almost ending her life, but at the time it was an insecurity that was fortunately never addressed due to the scandal of her long-term hidden relationship and accompanying secrets coming to the surface.

Despite her games being a literal arctic blizzard, the snow and the cold had not bothered Clove in the immediate after her games. Sure, there were times where if she closed her eyes long enough on her porch that it felt like she was back in the arena for the briefest of seconds. However the heat of adrenaline that rushed to her chest brought her right back, and when her eyes would fly open and land on her Victor’s Village yard she’d be snapped back into her new reality. A reality of survival and victory.

She was even somewhat fond of the snow, with the recollections of childhood, of times her and Cato had snuck out back in the dead of night to “practice” in the wintry conditions.

“If it weren’t for your hair you’d blend right in.” Cato teased, but his hands slipping under her arms and knees revealed that he meant business. He tossed her, as hard as he possibly could, into an adjacent snow bank, where her tiny teenage body did indeed slip under the entirety of the pile. The fifteen year old girl would have in fact blended in if not for the deep espresso color of her hair. And the constellation of freckles all over her skin. And the deep evergreen color of her eyes. None of which, Cato knew, were normal details to notice about one’s training partner.

The brief distraction would always be enough for Clove to grab him around the ankle, pull his feet out from under him, and bring him tumbling down right into the snow beside her.

They’d always sneak back in with icicles in their hair, water dripping off their clothes as the snow melted away, and a redness that danced across both of their noses and cheeks. Sometimes the only thing that could properly warm them up after was sharing the same dorm room bed, with snide remarks from Clove about how he may as well be a human heater. While those remarks may be snide, they were never a complaint that is.

It wasn’t snow after her games that bothered her, and truthfully, last winter hadn’t even been too terrible. Maybe somewhere, some cosmic control of the universe decided the people of District Two (realistically, the people of all of Panem) had suffered enough the previous year during the war. A couple of inches here or there, temperatures that dropped but never quite hit that bone chilling type of cold they were so familiar with. It was cold but not cruelly so, and that was nothing short of a miracle considering how many District Two citizens were displaced and without housing as a result of the rebels’ bombing. Those signature temperature dip and the blizzards would have been catastrophic to a district that was already facing such immense population loss.

Now, over a year and a half since the conclusion of the war, brutal weather was back to strike their home with a bite.

Multiple feet of snow combined with temperatures plummeting to near zero, both confirmed what Clove knew was coming: Winter in District Two was back with a vengeance.

While Cato had been thrilled to have a classic District Two winter; to take his little sister sled riding, to introduce her to hot chocolate and the power of a hot bowl of soup at the end of a day in the cold (courtesy, of course, of Clove), Clove had truthfully been dreading the impending storm.

The cold, quite frankly, hurt.

It did not hurt from the biting sting of cold wind against flesh or because of tingling fingers and ears from too long outside; no, it hurt deep in her body, in every single movement of her joints. It hurt like her skeleton was crackling, like the marrow inside her bones itself was forming ice crystals that shattered with her movement. It wasn’t just the flexion of her fingers and shoulders that hurt at this point. It hurts to exist. It felt like her ribs were cracking with the expansion of her lungs. With every step, a dull pain inside of her hip sockets begged her to stop moving and just rest. She hadn’t been prepared for every joint that had been dislocated and every healed fracture to remind her that she was never truly going to be able to heal from what Snow had done to her.

Clove, for the first time, understood what they meant when they called it bone cold. And holy shit did it hurt.

She tried the rational and logical ways to warm up. She tried a shower with water so hot it should have blistered her skin off, but only slightly brought her down from the feeling of ice in her veins. She layered on two, three of Cato’s already oversized sweatshirts, swimming in layers of clothes that made her look like a child playing dress up without any warmth radiating deeper than her skin. She had laid in bed, weighed down by a comforter plus another ten pounds of throw blankets, that didn't even touch the ache inside her.

All this is to say that Clove tried a lot before her desperation for any comfort resulted in her current position. On the floor…in front of the fireplace… both on top of and underneath the same ten plus pounds of blankets she had dragged downstairs with her. Even this, the combination of blankets, heat, and Cato’s clothes were only enough to slightly tamper down the ache.

Still, it was apparently just enough for her to fall asleep that way, because the next thing Clove knows, she’s being gently shaken awake with a foot on her shoulder hearing the panicked whispers of “Babe….babe…Clove..babe…Clove..are you alive?” That can only possibly come from Cato, who is insistently shaking her awake. “Clove?”

“Hmmm?” Clove murmurs, peaking one eye open to glance up at the man oh so kindly waking her. He stands over her, flecks of snow melting on the tips of his hair, cold water running off the black waterproof fabric of his coat and onto her face all the way down where she lays under him. “Move back, you’re making me colder.”

“Are you okay?” He nudges her again, but kneels down to closer to the same height as her. He reaches out with an ungloved hand, and the second his icy fingers touch her face Clove recoils into her blanket shell. From this height Clove can see the redness along his cheeks and over his nose that makes him look closer to twelve than twenty three. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m cold Cato, and it really fucking hurts.” She whines, tucking her hands into the blankets with her. “I can’t get warm.”

“Right..okay…did you try the bed–”

“Do you think I laid on our living room floor without trying the bed first?”

“Okay, what about those really hot baths you like, I can take you-”

“Cato. I tried it. This is all that helps.” Clove whimpers, rolling from her back onto her side, facing the blaze in the fireplace.

“I’ll be back just… Give me like..fifteen minutes.” Cato stands, and is already taking long strides upstairs before Clove even gets a moment to ask where he’s going.

She lays there for what feels like years in the glow of the fireplace, in the warmth it irradiates and the minimal relief it provides. She feels the presence of him behind her, the light tugging of her blankets, before she sees him.

“Don’t unwrap me, Cato, I’m warm-” Clove protests, but when she feels large, warm hands sliding under her layers and practically wrapping around her torso she melts. “You’re warm, oh my god.”

She doesn’t see him smirk, but knows him well enough to know he is, before he twists her to face him with the easiest twist of his wrists. He flashes her a grin, before pulling her flush against his bare, warm chest. Clove notices, absently, the way his wet hair falls just over his forehead how it did only in the immediate time after he showered until it dried.

“I’d prefer hot but I'll take it.” Cato taunts lightly as Clove buries her cheek against his chest, right over where his heart. “Comfy?” He teases, and a furrowed brow and a single narrowed green eye looks up at him in protest.

“Very.” Clove sighs, curling into him as his hands travel along the skin of her back and bringing heat with them. “You’re like a personal heater.”

“You could have called me, Clove…” Cato reminds her, tucking one leg over both of hers, using as much surface area contact as he could to bring her relief. “I would have come home.”

“You were with your sister, I wasn’t going to interrupt.” She doesn’t mention the embarrassment, the humiliation even, that she felt at the newest physical reminder of her time in the Capitol. A girl who used to love the snow, who loved the cold, now in pain greater than she’d ever admit to her husband. There were some things she didn’t even want him to know– her reduced pain tolerance, being one of them.“How did she like it?”

“She loved it!” Cato lights up, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he recounts his afternoon playing with his little sister. “Mom about killed me when she found out I was letting her go down the hill alone, but she had fun. No bones were broken.”

“Mmm, remember that time we found a trash can lid, and I sat on your lap as we went down that big hill behind the training center in the middle of the night?” Clove muses, freeing her hands from her blankety protection and tucking them against his abs. She holds back a giggle at the way he flinches away from her cold touch, his muscle flexing under her fingertips.

“You mean when we slammed into the brick wall and thought you broke your nose? And the giant bruise on my forehead that looked like you decked me with the handle of your knife?” Cato muses, wrapping Clove even tighter in his grasp, smiling to himself when he realizes that all the layers she used to try to insulate herself are his. “Of course I remember.”

“Your entire body weight landed on me and crushed me into the wall, yeah, I thought I was broken.” She wants to lift her head to scowl at him, but she is simply too warm, too comfortable, too safe right now to care. “You were giant, then, too.”

“We’re just lucky it was Brutus that punished us, not Enobaria.” There is a fond smile on his face as he thinks back to what cannot even be considered a simpler time –surely, laying on the living room floor with his wife, no games in sight, was far simpler than being fourteen and grasping for a glimpse of childhood– but certainly a nostalgic memory.

“Lucky? He made us run four miles barefoot, Cato. I would have taken whatever Enobaria was going to throw at us.” Clove tucked her icy feet against his for emphasis, and Cato actually flinched out of the way that time. “See? You still don’t like cold feet.”

“Speaking of Enobaria…doesn’t she have that hot tub, why didn’t you go over? She’s in One isn’t she? You would have had it to yourself…” One would have thought, twenty months into sharing custody of Enobaria with Cashmere and District One, they’d have gotten used to her schedule, used to her not always being readily available at their beck and call.

So many things had kept Enobaria in District Two, of course, in the past thirty some years of her life. Be it the limitations of interdistrict travel, the secret nature of her relationship with Cashmere (who had her own limitations, of course, considering the extent of the Capitol’s influence and abuse on her for over a decade), her commitments to her district and training, or maybe even Clove. Many reasons had existed to keep the Victor woman home, and now in the dawn of a new country, Enobaria had taken her well deserved freedoms.

Of course, that did not mean that they could keep track of her.

Some may go as far to say that Clove, Cato, and even Brutus, missed her sometimes.

Not that a single one of them would ever utter those words to her.

“I thought about it.” Clove sighs, turning her face to press the other cheek against his skin, equally warming her face. “But they’re actually here, I guess they’re here for a while…until Glimmer has the baby. Cash wants to stay in One for a few extra months straight after, I guess, so they’re making up time here for now. And I did not want to interrupt something over there again, especially not in the hot tub…” She shutters, not from the cold this time but from a distasteful memory that she clearly has brought to the surface. “Besides…I didn’t really want to go outside.”

“It’s kind of funny that Enobaria and Cashmere act like kids with divorced parents…back and forth back and forth to split their time evenly. Why don’t they just stay here?” Cato raises an eyebrow, a coy smile on his face. “District Two is obviously the better option.”

“Cashmere can’t leave her brother and sister, you know that. And she’s definitely not leaving now that Glimmer’s gonna have a whole kid soon.” Not just a kid, a little girl, a fact that Clove had to hear from Glimmer multiple times a day. “It would arguably make more sense for her to move to One if we’re suggesting permanent moving..and you know she isn’t going to leave here.”

“Enobaria would never survive with a neighbor named Rhinestone.”

Clove’s laugh is muffled against his chest, but he’s right. Splitting their time, like kids traveling between homes on holidays, was going to be their best bet. It didn’t make it any less funny, to imagine the mentor they all know and love spending half her time there.

Her laugh fades as her smile falls, and Clove can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I have to lay on the floor like this, I know it isn’t comfortable.”

“Clove..”

“I’m serious. This is just another new weakness, I guess. Just another thing Snow took from me.”

Cato’s hand slips off the skin of her back and Clove bites back a groan at the loss of warmth, before his hand holds the exposed side of her face. He doesn’t force her to look at him, simply strumming his thumb along her cheekbone. “Clove? I will bring the mattress down here, and we can sleep in front of this fireplace for the rest of Winter, hell, for the rest of our lives if it makes you feel even the slightest bit better. You aren’t weak, babe. I don’t even know if I could have survived what you did. You were tortured. And if this is how winter is going to go, this is how we’re going to survive it. Together.”

The composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbles like the facade it is, and the gasping breath she takes startles Cato to the point that he has to look down at her.

“It hurts to breathe, Cato. My lungs hurt and my ribs hurt and it hurts to move and it hurts to bend my fingers. It’s like I'm frozen inside and it hurts.” Clove gasps out, burying her face firmly in the center of his chest. “I didn’t think i’d be in this much pain because of some fucking weather.”

Hurt. Pain. Neither words that Clove would ever admit to, not to anyone else in the world. To anyone but Cato, they made her a target, they made her vulnerable, and they made her weak.

“I know, Clove. I know.” He admits, bringing his hand back down to her side, warming her up from the inside of her shirts. “I wish I could take it for you.”

I wish I could take it for you.

What a gesture that is, in District Two, where pain makes you weak and vulnerable. To be willing to carry that burden, to take on that proverbial target. Only among District Two, would the admission of pain and the subsequent willingness to take it be such a marker of love.

“I just feel like someone could take me out so easily and i’m so useless right now and-”

“Noone’s coming after us. Noone’s going to take us out. And if they were, I think I’ve got it covered. I’m a Victor, too, you know.” Cato promises, bringing his lips down to kiss the top of her head, where she is nearly trying to burrow into his skin for the warmth he so readily provides. “I’ve got us, Clove. Pretend it’s my turn to keep watch in the games, okay? Sleep…relax..I’ve got us.”

“Am I gonna get a turn?” Clove nearly teases, and he can feel her lips quirking into a smile against his skin.

He snorts, and somehow manages to pull her closer. “Once a snowman isn’t your biggest opponent, sure.”

The pinch he feels on his side is enough for him to know that she was going to be just fine.

#clato #cato and clove #arwbfb au #arwbfb tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #clato fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #clato fanfiction #clato tag #clove tag #cato tag #cashmere and enobaria #cashbaria tag #arwbfb sequel #pfsk tag #picket fences sharp as knives tag

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year

Text

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

masterlist | chapter twenty

After the conversation, Olenna left the both of you alone - she figured that giving you time to think was important. "He murdered someone. Bloody crazy." you mumbled, retracing the conversations that you had with him - searching for signs that he was only showing you a facade of what he was.

"I knew that he was unhinged, but not fucking mad." he replied rubbing circles on his palms.

When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin - madness and greatness are their two sides.

"That could've been me," you huffed, forgetting about the coffee in front of you. Aemond has always been - different, anger pumped through his veins and his emotions changed as easily as he breathed. "I wanna get the hell out of here, Daemon." you added, finding comfort in his presence.

"I don't want to see anyone that we know. I don't wanna see Aegon, or Helaena or Alicent." you rambled off, remembering the times that they defended Aemond's hostility towards you. They didn't harm you - but they tolerated the harm that was happening to you.

He would scream at you in front of them, talk about indecent things in your presence, and all that they could say was: it was normal.

Yes, it was normal.

It was normal for Aemond to act that way, but it didn't make it right.

Daemon watches you descend into the past. His hands snake towards the small of your back, comforting you silently with his warm palms. He could see right though you - every neuron and thought that went through your brain.

"Did they know about the murder?" you ask, eyes narrowing at the thought of death. Alicent was a good person, but a mother will go through lengths to protect her children.

He leans into his chair. He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. "Apparently, Aegon testified in his defense." he answered truthfully, recalling the words that were written in the report. "Fuck, that's messed up." you cursed, burying your head in your palms.

"I-I don't think I can ever look at them in the same way again." you stuttered, a permanent title was etched above their names. Criminals and defenders.

"You don't have to look at them again. We can move away from here - and forget all about them. You studied five-years in law. You can continue studying if you want to." he offered, retracting his hand and playing with his watch.

He's been thinking about leaving for a long time. He's been wanting to finish his Ph.D since he's stepped foot inside Dragonview. He only stayed because there was a reason to stay.

"I'd love that."

(Five-Years Later)

It's been five years since you disappeared off the face of the earth. You can still remember the day that you left: May 8, 2023 - and everything after that was pure bliss.

You and Daemon quickly moved into Switzerland, enjoying the snow - and the scenery around you. He finished studying for his Ph.D a few years quicker than he was supposed to - you however postponed finishing your law degree. Instead, you focused on teaching kinder-gardeners and healing from your scars. The both of you were lucky to welcome your first child, Maekar Targaryen.

After Switzerland - you moved to Siargao.

The warm sand was kissing your barefoot. The shoreline was beautiful in the morning, but the sun was far different than what they had in Canada. There was humidity in the air, and the sun felt like razor blades in the afternoon.

"Do you wanna go for a swim?" Daemon asks while pulling your hand closer to the water.

"It's not safe yet, I don't want to get stung." you whined but he keeps laughing and pulling you inside the water.

The water was warm - slightly colder than the sand. It was comforting to be in paradise - the constant feel of the current on your legs, and his warm hands that were wrapped around yours.

"They're not gonna bite you, I promise." he smiled, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He was enjoying life - the both of you were. "The last time we took a morning swim, I had to get hauled to the hospital." you recall and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry for that," he laughed, as the both of you walked deeper into the water. The seaweed was tickling your feet. You tried to avoid the corals and the fishes. The smell of salt-water flooded your nose. You remove your hand from his own. You lift both of your arms, holding onto him for balance.

You couldn't reach the water anymore - and he was the only person tall enough to reach it at this point. "It's nice here," you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like home.

"Let's stay here for a while." you add, his hands wrap around you for balance. "We should live here - I'll buy a house right there, beside the celebrity's house - so Maekar can swim whenever he wants to." he imagined, earning a playful glare from you.

"And who's going to watch him?" you huffed, his hands wrap around you tighter. "Me." he answered, reaching for your jaw with his free hands - pulling you closer and bridging your lips together.

His lips tasted like salt, but his mouth was sweet.

"I love you, Dae."

"I love you too."

You walked slowly to your beach-chair - hair dripping with water. Maekar and the maid were sitting on one of the chairs, watching the sun shine. Your little boy liked being on the beach - he also hated wearing sunscreen, much to your dismay.

He was wily, and talkative. He blabbered about a subject, but none could understand what he was talking about - he was only four months old anyways. He always reached for your hair, bite his father's fingers - and laugh at everything he saw.

He was half of your soul. You love him with all of your heart.

You fish for the phone inside of your bag. There were a few notifications from work and pilates, but one of them managed to catch your eye - it was Rhaenyra messaging you from the abyss.

NYRA 5:49AM It's been a while. I was hoping that you and Daemon could come back here. It's very important. NYRA 5:49AM As you know...Alicent's been struggling with her disease for a long time now. She died peacefully inside her house. Aegon and his kids were there, but she's getting buried a few days from now and none of us know where you are. NYRA 6:00AM It would mean the world for us if you attended. The funeral's being held in the Clubhouse, come whenever. 💚

You read out the long message, tears flooding your vision as the news became too heavy for you to bear. "Daemon!" you call out to him and he emerges from the waves, wearing a badge of confusion.

"Yeah?" he asked, reaching for the towel on the sand. He wraps it around his torso - eyebrows merging into each other as he sees the tears that were flowing from your irises. "Alicent's dead." you informed, before wrapping your arms around him in grief.

"Oh no," he replied, combing through your hair.

He didn't believe that Alicent was part of the family - but she was the mother of his niece and nephews. She suffered under the abuse of her husband, his brother, and that earned her respect. Her existence didn't leave a mark on his life - but it left a mark on yours.

"We need to be there, I need to see her." you pleaded and he nodded his head. He could never disagree with you. "I'll book the tickets. We'll take the quickest flight out of here." he promised while turning his head towards his baby boy. "Hello, Maekar." he leaned down on the chair, taking the boy out of Liz's hold.

"We'll bring him. His cousins should meet him." you inform, staring lovingly at the little boy. He tried to reach for your hair, but Daemon pulls him away.

"You silly boy, always reaching for mama's hair." he chuckles, rocking the baby gently.

next chapter>>

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes @ammo23

ONE LAST CHAPTER (for my own self-indulgence)

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lilybug-02 · 7 months

Note

Uh.. okay was searching for stuff for an AU I was making on Deltarune and came across...

The Snow Queen

"The devil, in the form of a troll,[2] has made a magic mirror that distorts the appearance of everything that it reflects"

Kris has connections to a "Devil" with sealing the Angel's Heaven, and the horn headband, and the distortion matches the Darkworlds

"shattering into billions of pieces. Some become windowpanes, some spectacles, and some get stuck in people's hearts and eyes, giving them a cold and bitter disposition."

The shadow crystals, which become glass in the Light World, and specifically spectacles being something mentioned, Spamton?

"Years later, a little boy Kai (often spelled "Kay" or "Kaj" in translations) and a little girl Gerda live next door to each other"

Kris and Noelle, Kai kind of sounds like Kris, both start with K, and have an I in them

"splinters of the troll's mirror get into Kai's heart and eye. Kai becomes cruel and aggressive."

Both Kris getting possessed by us (More in a Snowgrave timeline though) as well as simply how they seemed to have withdrawn after Dess went missing?

"The roses assure her that Kai is not dead, since they could see all of the dead while they were underground."

Underground, Dark World, the Kris parallel being not dead, when Kris in DR can revive, yeah

" Gerda is captured by robbers. Her life is spared when a little robber girl demands to have Gerda as a playmate."

Noelle gets taken by someone who wants Noelle for a selfish purpose, and isn't very... mature..

"I can give her no greater power than she has already," said the woman; "don't you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has got through the world, barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen, and remove the glass fragments from little Kai, we can do nothing to help her..."

This entire paragraph has very interesting Noelle parallels

"When Gerda reaches the Snow Queen's palace, she is halted by the snowflakes guarding it. She prays the Lord's Prayer, which causes her breath to take the shape of angels"

Religious themes in Deltarune are common. Noelle has Heal Prayer. Noelle is often connected to Deltarune's Angel, just... interesting

But yeah there's more stuff you could grab, especially if you actually read it rather than just going through the article but like...

??????????????

Also the reason I sent this to YOU of all people is because well... ur the first Deltarune person I thought of

A good resource for an in-depth, short review of the book, The Snow Queen, is best explained by John Solo HERE.

Oh boy, you definitely went into detail here haha. I can see the similarities of both stories. I think they are very different from one another, but i enjoyed reading your thoughts on it.

#thanks for sharing #bread #ask stuff #deltarune

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spade-riddles · 2 years

Text

Submission: Kaylor TED Talk 💘

Okay, hear me out. I think the Midnights album is a 13 track love letter to KK and the evolution of the Kaylor relationship, looking back reflectively. I think there's other little things splattered in the songs but for me, it all screams Kaylor. For this to apply, you have to believe they're still together, in secret. I've only listened to the album twice so I'm sure there's so much more I've missed, but I just had to get my initial thoughts out of my brain! Sorry if it's not too cohesive.

1. Lavender Haze: the beginning of meeting KK and the bearding. Taylor just wants to stay in the lavender Haze with KK and ignore the media saying she should marry whichever beard she has at the time

2. Maroon: living together in NY in the height of the Kaylor days ("my roommates rose" - they were "ROOMMATES", sounds like something two roommates who were also together would joke about)

3. Anti-Hero: Taylor admitting dating her is a problem because of her very squeaky clean marketed image and she's worried she'll lose KK because of this ("I'm the problem, it's me")

4. Snow on the Beach: Big Sur Trip, Taylor & KK falling hard for each other, the VS performance together ("stars by the pocketful" - you drew stars around my scars)

5. You're On Your Own, Kid: Taylor realising she's on her own with the bearding situation, and the only person she searches for who understands, is KK whose in the same position, but perhaps Taylor doesn't like KKs Beard of choice ("we're the best of friends", "there's just one who could make me stay" - KK convinced Taylor to move to NY)

6. Midnight Rain: Taylor reflecting on all her beards that she's had to protect her and KK ("my boy was a montage' - this made me think of how the media always have slideshows of all her "Boyfriends")

7. Question...?: Kissgate! 💋 (There's a part of the track that sounds like massive applause at a concert)

8. Vigilante Shit: Taylor and Karlie, 2022, preparing to give up their beards and claim their revenge on JK ("so on the weekends" - reminds me of "giving me your weekends", "lately she's been dressing for revenge" - Taylor and KK have both worn revenge dresses recently, "thick as thieves with your ex wife" - like Kaylor always used to be)

9. Bejeweled: Taylor has to still shine in public, with her polished image that she didn't want to ruin in Anti-Hero, is still "required" to protect her and KK, but she can make sure she owns the story when she goes out in public. I feel like she sings this song with a bit of a wink, like only she knows when she shines in public why she does and its not what most people think ("they ask do you have a man, I don't remember" - could this be any louder?)

10. Labyrinth: This song convinced me Kaylor are still together, they've navigated the labyrinth of their whole relationship in the public eye and then in secret. It talks about someone who knows her so deeply, and I think it's the most beautiful song on the album, talking about how she's falling in love with KK again, even after so many years. It gives me Daylight vibes ("I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around" 🥺)

11. Karma: I think this is about bearding again, ("Karma is my boyfriend", - he's the reason she gets what she deserves in KK "I keep my side of the street clean" - she's kept Kaylor secret for years now, "Karma is the wind in my hair on the weekend" - another weekend vibe like in Cardigan)

12. Sweet Nothing: Sounds like a lullaby 🥺, maybe Taylor reminiscing on early Kaylor days and Big Sur again and how Karlie has always been there for her despite the pressures of Taylor's career ("I wrote a poem on the way home" - YAIL vibes, "you're in the kitchen humming" - barefoot in the kitchen vibes, "I run home to your sweet nothings")

13. Mastermind: Now we get to the closing song which cemented this theory for me. How Taylor orchestrated her whole meeting with KK at the VS show, and how that led to the dominoes falling into place for them to blossom in to Kaylor. And how Karlie knew all along ("none of it was accidental", "saw a wide smirk on your face, you knew the entire time" - just go and watch the VS backstage meeting with them)

Thanks for coming to my Kaylor TED Talk 💘

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echo-bleu · 11 months

Note

Number 5 with Fingolfin, please! I imagine it would be sometime during the crossing of the Helcaraxë. 💙

Thank you for the prompt!

I thought it would turn out angsty as usual, but somehow it didn't! (Well, don't think too hard about things to come.) A sweet moment between Fingolfin and Idril on the ice.

I'm using their Quenya names since they haven't encountered Sindarin yet, so Ñolofinwë=Fingolfin, Itarillë=Idril, Turukáno=Turgon, Findekáno=Fingon. With surprise guest appearances.

On AO3.

5. Trying to walk on ice

Sometimes, thinks Ñolofinwë, Itarillë’s laughter is the only thing that gets him through the day.

She’s now spent nearly half her life on the ice. She barely remembers Tirion, or the light of the trees, or anything but the cold and the stars, and yet her laughter warms the frost out of their hearts.

She’s too young to walk all day, so she spends most of her time in one of the horse wagons sliding on wooden blades or, when it gets too cold to risk staying still, being carried on someone’s back. Turukáno and Elenwë take turns, with Findekáno and Ñolofinwë himself sometimes pitching in when they get too tired.

Or when they want to spend time with the only person still able to brighten their days, like now.

They’ve made camp for the night – or for the time being, at least, because with the Trees gone, night blends into day. It’s a good spot, the ice is thick enough here to hold everyone without fear. They might stay for a while until the horses are properly rested.

The snow glows under the stars. Were it not so cold, not so bleak a journey, Ñolofinwë would find it beautiful. He sits at the edge of his tent on thick layers of furs, little Itarillë in his lap, and together they watch a group of Turukáno’s people who appear to be doing something with batons and some sort of overshoe. They move back all at once to give space to the two they have equipped, who – somehow – start gliding on the ice.

Itarillë squirms in Ñolofinwë’s lap to look up at him. “What are they doing, grandfather?”

“I don’t know, but we could go ask them.”

“Can we?”

Ñolofinwë smiles at her and lifts her to her feet, after checking that she hasn’t kicked off her boots again. In Tirion, she went barefoot everywhere and she chafes at the need for shoes even here, but having any skin bare but their faces is folly. Even her ears are carefully hidden into the crown braid Turukáno has carefully folded her blond hair into this morning (evening, night – no one remembers to keep time any more).

They approach the group in the short, waddling stride that they’ve learned to take. The thin layer of snow over the ice crackles under their feet, treacherously hiding the slippery surface.

“My lord,” one of the elves immediately bows to Ñolofinwë.

“The princess is curious about what you’re doing,” Ñolofinwë says. “Ecthelion, is it?”

The elf nods. “We’ve devised a new method for moving faster on the ice!” he answers excitedly. Bending down, he picks up a piece of leather, to which is attached something that Ñolofinwë first takes for a wooden slate. “It’s a horse leg bone,” Ecthelion explains. “We drilled some holes into it and shaped the ends, and we tie them under our shoes. It allows us to glide, and push forward with the batons.”

“It’s fun!” another elf tells them with a large grin. He has a thick mane of unbound golden hair flowing around his shoulders, in the manner of the Vanyar – one of Elenwë’s, then. Ñolofinwë gives him a dubious look.

“Maybe the princess could try!” Ecthelion offers. “We’ve perfected the technique, it’s fairly safe. The ice is thick all around the camp, we’ve checked.”

Ñolofinwë thinks about it for a moment, but Itarillë looks up at him with such pleading eyes that he can’t resist. “Please, grandfather?”

“Alright, as long as you make sure she’s safe.”

Itarillë squeals and claps her gloved hands together. Ecthelion goes down to one knee on the ice to tie the pieces of bone to her boots, picking a pair that’s a little shorter than most of the others. It’s still a little too large for her.

“Stand carefully with your feet apart, Princess,” Ecthelion tells her, patient and gentle. He stands up again and holds out his hands. “Here, hold onto me.”

Her small hands are engulfed in Ecthelion thick gloves. He starts walking backwards, careful not to slip – he doesn’t have bone overshoes of his own – and pulls her with him. Itarillë glides forward on the ice.

“Oooh!” she exclaims. “Do it again!”

Ecthelion chuckles and obeys. Then, “Do you want to try too, my lord?” he asks Ñolofinwë cheekily.

“Maybe not today,” Ñolofinwë says. “But I can at least entertain my granddaughter and let you get back to your race.” He gestures at the rest of the group, who seems to have started a sliding race on the edge of the camp.

Ecthelion takes it for the request that it is. With all the care in the world, he pulls Itarillë closer to Ñolofinwë until she can transfer her grip from one elf to the other.

“Gradfather, it’s fun,” Itarillë says excitedly.

“I can see that,” Ñolofinwë smiles.

He gently pulls her around the ring of ice that the gliders have cleared from snow. She’s stable enough, so he speeds them up until he’s going as fast as he safely can walk.

Itarillë laughs her heart out. The sound seems to Ñolofinwë like the most beautiful thing in the world. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Turukáno and Elenwë watching them with smiles on their faces.

Even in the coldest night, he thinks, there is warmth to be found.

I'm not sure that I quite filled the actual prompt here but I couldn't resist elves inventing ice skating. They're using horse metatarsal bones here, which is one of the oldest recorded type of skate. I figure that they might invent metal skates at some point but they don't have a forge on the journey, so it will have to wait until they're in Beleriand.

The elf with golden hair is of course Glorfindel. Tell me he wouldn't love ice skating.

#fingolfin #idril celebrindal #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #tolkien legendarium #silmarillion fanfiction #echo's fanfiction

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crowtrobotx · 3 months

Note

Writing request: MurderFam adopts Cat!MurderFam.

Your wish is my command! For those unaware, the cats are the kitty versions of Kris, Karl and Lottie that Bri so lovingly wrote for her amazing Warrior Cats fic (which you should read here) What the Cat Dragged In Warnings: None, beyond cursing and some lewd humor. Word count: 2273

“Honey, sit still please.” “I have enough layers on! Mommmm! Let me go!”

Kris tried not to react as Lottie flopped back dramatically onto the kitchen tile, limbs spread starfish-like to emphasize the absolute agony her mother was forcing her to endure by not letting her run outside naked in the dead of winter. Surely child services would arrive at any moment to behold the horror of a child being dressed for the cold and whisk her away to a family that cared. With a sigh, Kris crossed her arms and stood over Lottie, now fully feigning death by sticking her tongue out and pinching her eyes shut. Her fluffy pink earmuffs looked like a second set of buns perched on the sides of her head. “You just need shoes. That’s it - only shoes,” Kris said calmly, gesturing to the snow boots sitting by the door. “Do you think you can survive that? You wouldn’t want wet socks.” “I don’t want to wear those boots. They’re too hot!” “Mmm. And what other boots could I get for you- oh! That’s right! You melted the soles off your second pair when you and Papa insisted on playing lightsabers by the bonfire in autumn. Speaking of which, where is your father? We need to get going - the school bake sale starts in half an hour.”

Lottie sat up, her grumpy expression diminished slightly at the prospect of changing the subject away from her attire. “He’s outside. Said he was going to the shed because he thought he saw an animal go in last night.” “When did he tell you this?” “Right after breakfast… a while ago, I guess. Maybe he got lost? Should we make a search party? Can I fly a helicopter!?” Kris’s brows furrowed. The shed sat at the very edge of their property, right where the woods began - she could see it from the kitchen window, for heaven’s sake. He had been gone a long time for someone investigating such a relatively small structure, though. Either Karl had met his doom at the paws of a rabid skunk, no doubt engaging in combat to assert dominance over who smelled the worst, or it was the cats.

Two of them, usually - a male and a female. They didn’t typically stay around long, only ever dropping by to make camp for a few days in whatever space they could find amidst Karl’s comically large collection of “vintage” lawn mowers and tools he insisted would be fixed up and resold one day. They’d started showing up a few years prior, not long after Kris and Karl had moved in. At first the cats kept a healthy distance, little more than quick blurs darting out from under the porch. Kris treated them more or less like cows on the highway, something to point out and briefly observe before going back to the monotony of the day. And then, Karl started making even more frequent convenience store stops. He always showed up with a bag of Kris’s favorite sour candies in an attempt to distract her from the copious amount of tuna cans he was stockpiling. He even tried to hide where he was putting them, as if the smell of fish didn’t make it incredibly obvious. Before she knew it, the fluffy tomcat had fallen on top of her head from the support beams the next time she’d entered the garage to speak to her husband, the smaller brown she-cat observing boredly from on high as her mate was nearly punted across the room. “It’s gotta be those furballs again,” she said to no one in particular. She ran a quick hand through her frizzy curls, standing on end seemingly out of frustration with her offspring. “Lottie, please put on your boots and then follow me outside. If I see you come out barefoot, I’m picking the movie tonight.” “Uuuuuughhh… Fiiineee….” The screen door slammed with a bang as Kris marched with purpose across the backyard, beelining for the rickety old shed. What remained of yesterday’s snow mix with mud from the yard squelched unpleasantly underfoot. She wasn’t angry about the cats so much as she was about being late - it gave her tremendous anxiety. Not to mention fucking Debbie would undoubtedly have set up shop right by the exit, where Kris wanted to be; the thought of the woman’s smug face sneering at her while she hawked her flavorless macarons was enough to drive her to madness. No, she would not lose her prime bake sale real estate this year. Not again. She heard it before she saw it, the shed’s perpetually shattered side window allowing the sound to be audible when she was within ten paces. Karl’s voice - so he hadn’t fallen victim to skunk murder. Shame.

Kris didn’t bother knocking - she pushed the creaky wooden door open and entered the damp, warm space with an expression that she hoped conveyed the sort of disappointed maternal look that bent the normally bombastic man to her will. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a figure sitting on a stack of overturned milk crates in the corner began to take form - as did a pair of glowing, irritated eyes.

And there he was, Mr. Tough guy himself, cradling the scraggly grey tomcat like a baby and cooing at it in an uncharacteristically high pitched tone. Kris sighed. It might have been cute if they didn’t have somewhere to be - and if Karl wasn’t deliberately pretending she wasn’t there. The cat was looking at her with an expression that she could only describe as insulted, as if he could not believe her audacity in interrupting his belly rub session. “Having fun?” Kris’s lips twitched. “We were.” Karl was very fond of the male, to put it lightly - though he’d die before he said as much. Kris wasn’t a cat person, but she had exchanged enough glances with the small, brown female to recognize the same exhausted eyes that stared back at her every morning in the bathroom mirror. A kindred spirit, it would seem. The poor thing had lost her tail, and all that remained was a little nub that fluffed up angrily when she was agitated. Which seemed to be often around her ever-meowing mate.

Speaking of which- A quick glance around the space didn’t immediately reveal the little she-cat, to Kris’s surprise chagrin. Unless she’d wedged herself in a corner or under a tarp, she was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s his girlfriend?” Kris asked, trying to sound uninterested. Karl shrugged, the momentary pause in his petting earning him a swift paw to the jaw. He chuckled and resumed his all important task, shifting a bit anxiously in place. “Dunno. Haven’t seen her - she’s probably out getting drunk with her little cat friends and talking shit about this poor baby.” The tomcat purred loudly, swishing his feather duster tail across Karl’s leg. Kris rolled her eyes. She was busy thinking up a witty retort when Lottie’s wheezy self jostled around her from behind, having just sprinted over from the house upon the realization that her parents were spending time together without her, yet another unacceptable grievance. Almost as bad as being forced to wear shoes. “What’re you two doing? What’s that? Is that the cat we saw last summer?” “You’ve got major FOMO, y’know that?” Kris flicked one of her buns affectionately. “Papa was just saying goodbye to his buddy, wasn’t he?” Karl opened his mouth to protest - Kris swore for a brief, insane moment that the cat mirrored his expression - when Lottie tugged on her mother’s jacket sleeve. “Hey, where’s the other one?” God, she’d hoped Lottie wouldn’t ask. For all anyone knew, she was simply hiding or out hunting - but the fact that it was winter, and knowing how many coyotes and foxes they’d already seen this season… she didn’t want to think about it. Kris swallowed her mounting sadness. They’re strays, she told herself. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. Besides, she wasn’t even a cat person - what was she getting so worked up about?As if on command, an irritated meow came from the small storage loft above. The little brown she-cat darted her green eyes curiously between Kris and Lottie before glaring at the tom. Kris snapped her gaze up and failed to contain the relief in her voice as she exclaimed, “Hey, you!” Karl, infuriatingly, noticed. He flashed her one of his Cheshire cat grins, and Kris was ready to launch the nearest rusty tool at his head when the she-cat voiced her indignation once more.

The male meowed in response and flopped awkwardly out of Karl’s lap before bounding on top of the nearby crates and barely making the leap up into the loft. His back paw slipped awkwardly, but he managed it all the same before shaking his fur like a wet dog and trying to look menacing and huge again. He briefly butted heads with his mate before they both turned away from the three humans below, as if deep in hurried conversation. Kris didn’t want to waste any more time on this than they already had - mostly she didn’t need Karl needling her about actually liking a cat. She gestured toward her waiting car in the driveway, loaded to the hilt with brownies that actually tasted good, thank you very much, Debbie. “There, you’ve had your visit. Now can we get going?” “Yeah, yeah.” Karl rose with great effort, the groan he emitted as he simply stood up more akin to someone being stabbed to death rather than simply stretching their back. “Hey, wait!” Lottie suddenly pointed upward toward the ats and bounced eagerly on her toes, craning her short neck to try to see something. The female hopped down first, gracefully, and made her way to Kris’s legs. She wound her sleek little form around them a few times, and Kris couldn’t resist bending and giving her a quick ear scritch before Lottie nearly shrieked with delight. With a heavy thump, the tomcat landed on the crates again, this time carrying a furious fuzzball in his jaws. The little grey kitten hissed furiously, its short limbs flailing with irritation at having been removed from their warm nest. The proud father strutted over to Karl to present the little spitting terror while the mother appeared unbothered, ignoring her offspring’s protests and blinking slowly up at Kris to gauge her reaction. She wasn’t sure if cats understood thumbs up, but that was all she could think to give the expectant creature. “Well, look at that!” Karl clapped his hands together delightedly. “You old bastard, you got some swimmers that still work?” “Aww, I said the same thing to you after we got married,” Kris kissed her husband’s cheek, reveling in his sour expression.

“IT’S A KITTEN!!!!!” Karl barely caught Lottie before she lunged forward, pure mania in her eyes. “Lottie, shhh,” Kris suppressed the urge to laugh lest it startle the cats. “Yes, it’s a kitten. A very cute one. Try to stay calm, we don’t want to scare them away.” Her daughter was practically vibrating with excitement. The tomcat plopped the little grey kitten, his clone in almost every way, on the dirt floor where it proceeded to fluff up to twice its size and stand stock still. Its eyes were like saucers as it observed Lottie, unsure of whether to run or launch itself at her face. Ever the extrovert, Lottie dropped to her hands and knees and introduced herself, loudly, to the kitten. She crouched until her chin was practically on the ground and made herself as small and unthreatening as possible. The kitten slowly deflated, shuffling forward and flashing tiny teeth nervously before batting Lottie’s nose to garner a response. Lottie only laughed and extended a chubby little hand for it to sniff. A few cautious sniffs later and the little beast was hesitantly allowing itself to be petted clumsily on the head, even letting a few purrs escape here and there. “Well… I’m glad this had a happy ending,” Kris muttered. The she-cat at her feet went to go inspect her kitten while the male watched happily from his lounge atop an old dusty stool. “We should really, really leave, though. How will Lottie’s junior robotics club survive if I don’t fundraise half the budget with my astonishing selection of baked goods? Come on, old man.” “Sheesh, alright. Does your girl bother you this much?” The tomcat yowled pathetically at Karl in response. “Yeah, I know, buddy… I know. It’s torture.” Kris and the she-cat glanced at one another, a sort of shared understanding that transcended species passing between them. Both of the boys were going to husband jail tonight. “Can we keep them!?” Lottie begged as the kitten scaled her face onto her head as if conquering a mountain. “Yes,” Karl announced, drowning out Kris’s softer “no.” She wanted to protest, but frankly the urge had fled. It wasn’t worth it. Not while Debbie was out there making gains already. “Fine,” Kris conceded at last. She turned to leave, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she made her way back toward the house. “Fine, but you two are keeping them fed and changing their litterboxes. And buying them toys, and taking them to the vet…. And we need to talk about neutering the fella.”

“NO!” Karl stomped a foot angrily. “Don’t disrespect my boy like that! Don’t even joke about it!”

Kris had half a mind to comment that she was referring to him, but decided she’d had enough tantrum delays for one afternoon.

#asks #writing requests #grisailledreams #chrysalis (fan fic) au

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lucilleguinevere · 2 years

Text

Sweet Mess

⌗ Some thinks he’s stupid, some think he’s smart. Some thinks he’s docile, and some think he’s an animal. But everyone can agree on one thing, he’s a beautiful man. Inside, and out.

𓆩⊹ Lookism x Male Reader fanfiction ⊹𓆪

Chapter 1

.the past.

Trigger Warnings: violence, murder, blood, gore, fighting, child assault, etc (you get the gist of it).

Word Count: 1,929 Words.

Note: A story that has been loitering around in my draft library! Lookism is a fandom I can always re-immerse myself in anytime, because it's both exciting and.. There are too many handsome men (๑•̀д•́๑) Like how??? Why??? Dude, marry me??? So anyway, I have a ton of Lookism fanfictions and I found this little guy again. I had re-edited it one time, and after a brief proofread by yours truly and some change of words, it was ready to go! I really liked the backstory of the Reader character, and I really wanted to keep it, so here it is! I figure I could combine it with my other idea together, and the result will come out clear soon. I'll stop my long ass story and let you all enjoy the first chapter! (It originally had a prologue but I thought it was a bit too dramatic so I didn't post it (￣∇￣))

⊹ “Bold with quotes: Chinese.”

⊹ ‘Italic with single quotes: inner thoughts.’

The wind was chilly, more chilly than usual. The people around walked in thick clothing, while a small boy walked in only thin clothes and shorts. He walked barefoot, homeless and in a daze. He’s used to living alone and surviving in the streets, but this was his first winter without his mother who would always nag him to use thicker clothes, even if they rarely contact each other. He wrapped his arms around his trembling body, huffing a breath before he widened his eyes, a puff of cloud in front of him as he exhaled shaky breaths. Soon enough, white snow came showering on the small town as people admired the snow. Winter had arrived. While the young children played in the snow with glee, the boy could only tremble as he thought of the worse; he had little to no clothes, even if he were to wrap in rugged rags like a taco, the cold would still be able to seep through.

Disappointment flashed in the boy’s gloomy eyes as he watched the snow fall. He sat down on a wooden box as he stared into the sky, he had been hoping it wouldn’t snow, but the gods decided to go against his wish. Why are they so cruel to a victim like him?

“Hey!!” A female voice rang out, alerting the boy as he looked to the streets, where a pretty girl and a handsome boy were standing beside each other, the girl waving her hand his way. “Hey you!! Yes, you!! Come over here!!” The girl called, gaining attention from a few people nearby who looked at her as if she had a screw loose— maybe she does. The boy held a sigh as he got on his feet and walked his way towards the girl, what could she possibly want from him?

As he approached the two, he managed to examine their features better, the girl had dirty blonde hair and black doe eyes, her lips curved into a sweet, mischievous smile. Looking at the boy beside her, he had a handsome face, black hair and black eyes, a cold expression as his black eyes held affection for the girl beside him. “I like you! You’re pretty! Are you a girl??” She started, bombarding the boy with questions. Pretty? Him? In worn out clothes with a probably dirty face, pretty? His mother used to call him an ugly bastard with a smile, as if it was funny, but he didn’t understand. His face scrunched up in confusion, “..I’m a boy.” The boy finally answered, making the girl freeze as the boy beside him raised an eyebrow.

“Y-You are?!! Whatever, anyway, wanna work for me? My family’s rich and you can—” The girl started her ramble about how her family is a powerful family in China, but the boy couldn’t care less. After he waited and ignored everything she said, with a poker face, he said. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I don’t meet the requirements to work for your family. Please excuse me.” His immediate response stunned the girl as he walked away, leaving the two alone as he wandered off.

He walked up to one of the food stalls and the smell of food hit his senses, his stomach grumbled in hunger as he passed the stall, a wicked plan forming a shape in his mind as he looked around. With his dirty hands, he sneaked up near one of the stalls and whisked away one of the dangos, hiding it in his clothing as he passed by as if nothing had happened. He kept a calm face as he passed by, walking further and further away out of sight. No one would realize what happened to one, missing dango. As he chomped on it, eating it as fast as he could, he hid away, his mind drifting off to the girl in expensive clothing.

‘She must be the daughter of a noble, so arrogant and spoiled. Does she not know she could get into trouble, shouting out how her family is powerful and rich?’ The boy thought to himself as he finished his dango, a small group of thugs passed by, a dirty and evil grin plastered on their faces as they passed by, not bothering to whisper about their plans and findings. “I heard a small girl shout out about how influential her family is. She’s a pretty one too, did you look at her clothes? That’s some high quality silk over there, I’m sure she isn’t lying. Bet she’d sell for quite a fortune, especially that boy beside her.” The thug spoke to his friend, who lit up his cigarette. His face disinterested as he leaned against the wall. “Guess we can take ‘em, keep yer eyes on ‘em. Strike when they least suspect it.” The other spoke, telling the thug what to do as he nodded. They discussed a bit more before dispersing, unsuspecting of a boy who eavesdropped— no, overheard their conversation. The boy thought of warning the two, but shrugged it off of his mind, it wasn’t his business.

Besides, it was her own fault. No smart or sane person would shout out about their family's position without any bodyguards. Unless that boy beside him is a bodyguard? Who knows, it's none of his business. The boy stood up and sneaked away, looking for people who looked like pushovers to beg for their money. He eventually found some, getting a few yen, and bought himself better clothing. Of course, on discount. When people pity you or underestimate you, you're guaranteed an upper hand. You can save money, and have a bigger winning chance in fighting. After winning a sum of money from betting, he walked through the snow which was building up on the streets, his once barefoot now covered in a pair of cheap shoes. At least he feels more warm now. As he walked around in the uncomfortable clothing, he heard shouting and cries, as well as the clashes of melee weapons. He calmly approached the source of the noises, peeking his head out to see what was happening. It was the two kids he met just moments ago, the girl laying on the snow, tears falling down her eyes as the boy held his ground, his face covered in blood, and so was his spear. The only thugs left were the two who planned it all in the beginning. The boy watched as the thug managed to defeat the boy, getting him on his knees as the girl crawled over to him, cradling him as she glared furiously at the two thugs. "Please!! I'll go with you, so please spare him!" She begged the two thugs, who simply snickered.

"Did you think we're stupid? We may not receive the same education as you, but we're not that stupid. You are coming with us, and this boy is going to go down in the lake." The thug said, his grin greedy and lustful as he eyed the little girl who cried even harder, the boy gripped the little girl's hand as he stood up again, wobbling. Before he could grab his spear, the other thug sighed before kicking him in the stomach harshly, sending him backwards and lying on his back. His breathing became ragged, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace, he tried to catch his breath, but it's obvious he was too injured to even focus on protecting the girl. The thug grabbed the girl by her hair and picked her up, her feet dangling above the ground, his hand gripped around her neck, squeezing it. The boy watched it all happen, but his heart, his morality was screaming to do something because he can. He could do something. The boy sighed as he looked around for a weapon. His eyes landed upon a thin, metal pipe. It's end sharpened.

"You.. Le-t go of h-er this instance!" The boy laying on the ground on his stomach coughed and gasped for breath as he glared daggers at the thug holding the girl, his voice cracked as he growled and snarled at the thugs. He was choking her, his grin twisted devilishly as he did it for entertainment, watching the girl suffocate. The other thug approached the boy, smoking his cigarette, bent down to take a hold of him, but then a sudden blow of pain bloomed in his eye, and the feeling of warm liquid flowed down his cheek. His other eye widened in horror as he realized what happened, "Ah.. AAAHHHHHH!!!!" A metal pipe had pierced his eye, and the boy with dirt smudged on his face pulled the pipe out before raising it up and slamming it down on the thug's head, making him collapse. Whether he was dead or not, the boy did not care. The ravenette looked up in surprise to see the rude boy from earlier to look at the thug he just attacked, his glum eyes flashed with disgust as he approached the other thug who looked at him in interest. "Oh? You killed him? Well, no matter. I won't have to share the loot with anyone else then. So, I bid you my thanks." He grinned, showing off one of his golden teeth, his eyes flashed with a twisted look as he approached the boy, dropping the girl who was gasping for air on the pavement and left her behind.

"I say we fight—" Before he could finish, the boy striked, but this time, he didn't aim for the thug's eyes nor his head. But his balls. He tried stabbing it, but the thug was prepared, "Holy shit! You didn't hesitate—!!" Ignoring his surprised remark, the boy stabbed his leg, making him hold a shout of pain as he dropped to one leg. "You—" Without waiting for the thug to finish, the boy immediately pierced the thug's throat, making him cough out blood from his mouth as the metal pipe went through his thick neck. The boy pulled the metal out, blood matter spewing out everywhere, and even on his new clothes. The boy then threw the pipe away, noticing that the girl went to the black haired boy, looking up at him with fear and slight awe. The boy had the same look in his eyes, added with respect. "...What's your name?" The girl asked, her voice laced with curiosity. The boy kneeled down on one leg, and fished out an antibiotic his mother got him once. "M/n." He answered, looking into the girl's and the boy's eyes. His eyes held curiosity as he blinked, his cheeks splattered with blood.

But even so, he still looked chaotically pretty. "What's yours?" He asked in return as he examined the boy's hand, which were calloused and scratched. "My name is Vivi and he’s my bodyguard, Shaorung." The girl answered, with a small smile adorning her face. Her cheeks dusted with slight pink when M/n reached to touch her snow white skin, the feeling of cold surprising the girl as he put antibiotic on the scratch on her cheek. "So you said something about working under you?" M/n asked, recalling the first time the girl, known as Vivi called for him. His words made the girl's eyes widened, her heart thumping louder in her ears as she stared at the boy in front of her.

It was winter, and in that season, something sweet had bloomed among the red colored snow. It was also the beginning of his story. Of their story and how they meet each other. It was random and absolutely coincidental,

It was fate.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two

#lookism #lookism x male reader #lookism x reader #vivi lookism #first post

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mochiswifey · 2 years

Text

With You

Kanji Mochizuki

CW:AGE-GAP^PARANORMAL^PROSTITUTION^SLIGHT SMUT

“S-shit. Fuck! I’m gonna cum.” Kanji groans as he releases. The prostitute under him was trembling from overstimulation and she looked nasty just the way he likes it.

He took his cock out before rolling away from the woman he paid. No attachment like any other women he had tasted.

“Be gone in 10 minutes.” He says before standing up and leaving his bedroom to get a water to rehydrate his tired body.

Unlike the other executives Kanji also got a house even though it’s far safer to live in a penthouse to avoid unwanted intrusion.

The house he bought not long ago was a traditional Minka, a very expensive one because it belonged to a Daimyo in the Edo period.

He wraps a towel on his waist before opening the high tech fridge that looks out of place in the house.

He took a water bottle and chugged it in one go. He then went back to his room and was relieved to see the prostitute gone.

Kanji harshly pulled the bedsheets off his bed and threw it aside before opening the sliding door revealing the Japanese style garden.

The sound of the pond and the crickets immediately relaxes him. The scenery was eerily beautiful. And the full moon adds to its beauty.

He sat down on his bed and observed the different patterns of his pet kois.

Some of them were gifts from associates and some of them were brought by him for insane amount of money.

At first, he was intrigued by their unusual patters but his thoughts slowly faded and he was left looking at them mindlessly.

“美しいですね” (They’re beautiful)

He snapped out of his trance and looked up to see who’s the voice belong to.

A woman dressed in a beautiful white and gold Kimono stood on the stone bridge which connects a path from his room to the garden.

She’s as pale as snow and the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Her hair neatly tied in bun while decorative flowers poke out of it.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“I live here.” Her answer was bizarre but her velvet voice and her intoxicating smile distracted Kanji from realizing the discrepancy.

Kanji stood up and she looks away. Kanji immediately wore his own Kimono after realizing why the woman averted her gorgeous light brown eyes away from him.

“Pardon me for my rudeness.” The woman says before turning to face him once more. Kanji’s heart flutter as he has never seen such a beautiful woman like her.

“H-how did you get in?” He asked as he step out barefoot to the stone bridge and started heading towards her.

“I never left.”

“I don’t understand.” He says as he stop just one step away from the woman.

“No one will. If you like I could leave.”

“N-no, it’s fine. I don’t mind having you as a company.” He didn’t know who she was but he was not ready to let go of the woman yet.

“Would you like to go inside?” He asked and she shakes her head.

“I’d like to admire the moon for just a little bit long.”

She says before craning her neck up to see the moon.

“The moon is beautiful don’t you think?“ She says before flashing Kanji the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

After that night Kanji began meeting her in his garden every night.

He never question why she’s as white as snow, how she gets in and out of his house, why she’s wearing the same Kimono every night or why she only appears at night.

He was content to see her and to be with her.

“Hanayaka.” He calls out to her and she immediately averts her gaze away from the Koi and looked at his direction.

She smiled and wave at him warming his heart.

“Welcome home.” She says and he laughs as he jogs towards her.

Kanji has been meaning to ask her a very important question never in a millions years had he thought about asking any other woman.

To be with her beyond his house and maybe even introduce her to the other executives because they were making fun of him not believing his stories about Hanayaka.

They think his house is just haunted and that he’s seeing a ghost.

And lastly, to be with her for this life, the next- for eternity.

Kanji stopped going to the parties he used to go to. He stopped meeting and paying for other women’s companies because now? He has Hanayaka.

“Thank you for waiting for me.” He says before the two of them started walking.

“You’re nervous.” Hanayaka says as she looks at Kanji. He bit his lips and nodded.

“Why is that?”

Kanji took a deep breath before taking her unusually cold hand and pulling her down to sit on the well maintained grass.

Hanayaka smiled as she kneels down and sits back on her heels. Kanji on the other hand just towered over her even though he’s kneeling as well.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this. I would like you to be my wife.” He confesses heart beating faster than normal.

Hanayaka smiled and took his hand before kissing it.

“I am honored to be asked to be your wife but. I cannot marry you.” Kanji shook his head not understanding what she meant.

“We enjoy each other’s company why-“

“You cannot be my danna. And I cannot be your tsuma.” She kisses his hand once more before placing it back to his knees.

“W-why?”

“Because I have died a long time ago.”

“H-huh?”

Kanji blinked and was thrown to incomprehensible horror as he sees a different Hanayaka in front of him.

Blood covered her gold and white Kimono. Throat slit and eyes carved out.

He suppresses a scream as he backs away from the woman he wanted to be his wife.

“Now, do you still think I am pretty?”

Kanji closed his eyes and saw how she was murdered and defiled.

Hanayaka’s eyes were already carved out before she was even chased by an unknown man wielding a sword. She struggles as tried to get away from the man. Crawling as blood drips down from the empty holes her beautiful eyes used to be.

The man took her eyes out so she couldn’t hunt him in the afterlife or even after he got reincarnated.

She was pushed to the ground and taken without her consent. She screamed and cried for her but no one came to help her.

The man ignored her wails and continued forcing himself to her before slitting her throat.

The man was content as she didn’t see who he was clearing him from any chance she has of hunting him.

Kanji shook his head and not long before that she was back to the beautiful Hanayaka she was.

“I died a year after this house was built. But I’ve remained because I loved the peace this structure gave me even thought this is where I took my final breath.” She explains as she starts to stood up.

“Many have lived here throughout the long years I’ve resided here. But not once did I fell for one of them. I am happy to meet you. And I am happy to be loved by you.” She smiled before turning around.

“I want to be with you.”

Kanji stops her.

“I want to be with you too.”

“Shit. I didn’t think Kanji was telling the truth that he got a girl!” Ran greets Kanji’s wife and shook her inhumanely cold hands.

“Forgive me, I get cold easily.”

“No worries.” The older Haitani winked at her.

Kanji laughed as he protectively wrapped his arm around his wife.

Everyone congratulated them for their marriage and the two couldn’t be happier. Though, every executive was happy for Kanji they couldn’t help but to wonder where he found a girl like her.

A girl who doesn’t know what a phone is. A girl who talks like she was born a hundred years ago.

But they all shrugged it off except for one person.

“Mochi, do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?” Kakucho says to his oldest friend.

The two then stepped outside of the room to have a private conversation.

“I am happy that you got married but- the girl isn’t who she is. Her name is not Hanayaka Ichigami. She’s not from a wealthy family. She’s a prostitute-“

Kakuchou spoke the information he has gathered and handed Kanji files for evidence but he was immediately startled when Kanji started tearing the files he presented him.

“She’s Hanayaka and she’s my wife.” He spat out coldly before going back to the room leaving his best-friend dumbfounded.

Kanji’s eyes widen as he sees the sun starting to go down. And he was even pushed further to the edge after seeing his wife standing in front of the mirror.

“I’m sorry we need to go.” He says as he grabs his wife away from the mirror shielding her body with his enormous one.

“Going so soon? The party just started!“ Ran was eager to make them stay a little bit longer but Kanji and his wife were already on the door.

“皆さんどうもありがとうございました。” (Everyone, Thank you very much.)

She politely says before bowing deeply showing her gratitude towards them.

Everyone was irked at how much Kanji wanted to take his wife home.

“Mochi really loves his wife huh?” Ran says as he twirls his wine.

“Yeah, I thought he was just bluffing about meeting a woman so beautiful like her. I mean his house is practically haunted so I figured he was just seeing a ghost.” Rindou adds as Haruchiyo cracks up.

“The first time I went to Mochi’s house I felt so creeped out so I decided to research about it and turns out a Samurai killed the daughter of the man who owns the house.” Kokonoi says catching everyone’s attention.

“When?” Ran asks.

“During Edo? 1865. I was even surprised that there was a photograph of the Samurai. I mean. The oldest picture captured here in Japan was in 1857 and not many people could take-“

“Wait? Japan had a camera in 1857?” Haruchiyo asked.

“The first Camera was invented in 1816.” Kokonoi rolls his eyes before pulling out the picture of the Samurai.

“What the fuck? This man looks like Mochi!” Ran exclaims and Kokonoi nodded agreeing with him.

“That’s what I thought of! I mean, I hope the two moves out of the house ‘cause I don’t want them to end up like the Samurai and his fiancé.” Kokonoi adds.

Ran zooms in the photo and noticed the Samurai had a mole on his lower neck like the one Mochi has.

“Why did he kill his fiancé?” Rindou asks as he sits on the top of the meeting table.

“The girls father wanted her to marry a political figure as during that time Samurai’s are already losing power from the new reforms. The girl loved him but he went on full crazy and carved her eyes out so she wouldn’t recognize him before raping her.”

“That’s creepy. Maybe we should tell Mochi to move out of the house.”

“F-fuck. Fuck. I love you so much. You’re all mine? Okay? Just mine. Even after we die. Forever you’re mine.” Kanji mercilessly pounds into his wife and she moans in pleasure loving the feeling of being alive after a hundred years.

He took a his cock out and flipped her around before putting himself back to her.

He made the right choice. He knew he did.

His hand wrapped around her throat pushing her against his chest the two moaned in union loving how their bodies are touching.

Kanji he committed many crimes during his lifetime and during his past life. But he was glad that even after inflicting pain and taking her life away 157 years ago, he was able to bring her back to life.

Her eyes were close loving the way his cock went in and out of her. It felt different and it felt good compare to what she experience a long time ago.

Kanji pushed her down and started increasing his already brutal pace.

Kanji’s eyes fell to the mirror on the nightstand and for a moment he saw someone he didn’t knew but resembled him enough to just make him think that it was simply an imagination.

But his wife’s reflection says otherwise. She was a different person in the mirror to what the people see. But no one will find out as long as she stays inside the house during the nights when it’s a gorgeous full moon.

And even if they did saw her, Kanji will be more than just glad to push a knife in their heart sacrificing them to the god he used to bring his beloved fiancé wife back to life.

Thank you for reading. Plagiarism is a crime.

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