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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Trying

Warnings: allusions to fertility issues, unwanted touching, and other possible dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: I got carried away with Blind Offer but here is another Corrupt a Wish! Ft. our boys Steve and Ransom!

Please leave some feedback so I know you want me to do more of the wishes I got. Otherwise, I find it hard to keep my motivation.

Wish Corrupted: I wish Ransom would be a simp for me despite the fact that I’m Steve’s girl 😏 by @stargazingfangirl18

“He’s in his office, writing again,” you keep on hand on the door as you speak to the man on your stoop. “Something about a book deal…”

You grin and Ransom’s cheek dimples. Nothing more. Sometimes it feels like he only tolerates you because you're attached to Steve. You try to give them their space, to stay out of the way. You’d hate to spoil this for your husband.

“Right, so..” Ransom tucks his hands into his russet jacket and looks over his shoulder, “you sending me back out in that?”

“Not at all,” you step back, “come on in.”

He looks back to you with that expression you can’t read. His eyes speak more than his features but they are cryptic. There’s a light behind them you can’t quite place. He steps inside, rivulets on his jacket and a few sparkling droplets caught in his dark hair.

“Can I get you a tea? Coffee?” You offer, balling your hands to keep from wringing them.

He unbuttons his jacket and hangs it from a hook. He smooths his hands over his hair, the rain seeping into the strands. He faces you and tilts his head.

“Got anything stronger?” He asks.

You try not to show your surprise at the request. It’s three in the afternoon. On a Tuesday. Your liquor cabinet is rarely opened even on the weekends. It’s more decorative than practical.

“You like gin, right?” You venture.

His lash flick and he narrows his eyes at you, a ripple in his forehead. He plants a hand on the wall and bends as he thumbs off his wet shoes. He keeps his gaze pointed at you, “you remember?”

“Lucky guess,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he looks around the entryway, “I’d say so.”

You try not to betray your doubt. It’s hard to tell with him what is meant as a compliment or shade. He speaks in riddles. You almost want to suggest he takes up writing himself. It is in his blood.

“I’ll go see what we got,” you say and spin on your heel.

You’re quick to flee the stolid pressure of his persistent gaze. It’s as if he’s weighing you, judging your worth each time he sets sight on you. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought you weren’t good enough for Steve. And how could you be? How do you live up to the Captain America?

You go to the cabinet in the dining room and unclasp the door. You peruse the bottle and find a tall bottle of gin. You slip it out over the tops of the other bottle and gently close the cupboard. You bring it to the kitchen and search for a suitable glass among the crystal.

“You got club soda?” Ransom frightens you as you pull down a tumbler.

You turn your head, looking at him from your peripheral. You sidle over to the fridge, “might…”

He crosses the tile as you search and you feel the door shift. As you close it, his hand follows, staying flat to the metal as he peruses the calendar stuck to it with a magnet. The squares are crowded with clusters of your and Steve’s writing. You highly doubt he has any concern for your doctor appointments.

“Busy,” he comments.

“Yep,” you agree as you open the can of soda, “sorry, I don’t have any citrus.”

“It’s fine,” he comes closer as you pour the soda over the gin and the clear mix bubbles to the rim. “Thanks, doll.”

He reaches and slides the glass towards him. For a moment, looming so you can smell the bergamot in his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his ivory knit. He backs away as he brings the glass to his lips.

“I should go find the old man,” he declares.

“Right,” you move the half-empty can and cap the gin, trying to contain yourself.

You listen to him retreat. His steps are lazy and carry no urgency. You glance over to make sure the kitchen is empty and you lean on the counter.

Doll… only Steve calls you that.

💕

Ransom stays for dinner. It’s not unusual. You don’t even have to ask as two hours pass without a peep from the office. That’s how your husband spends his days lately; burrowed away, writing, grumbling over his laptop, and occasionally calling for help. You smile each time he tells you typewriters were so much simpler.

As you bring out the serving dishes to the table, Ransom chats about some editor’s meeting, Steve looks over as you place the roasted potatoes down, he lets his hand wander to your lower back and smiles up at you. He’s in a better mood than usual.

You touch his shoulder, too shy to kiss him in front of Ransom. You just hate how he’s always watching. The last time to gave your husband a peck on the cheek, it resulted in a snort and a mean joke about PDA.

You go back to the kitchen and grab the pan of drumsticks. You stop as you pass the fridge, staring at your writing, the highlighter over the letters. A few more days… The specialist will be able to figure it out. They have to.

You shrug away that thought and continue into the dining room. You place the last piece of the meal and claim your seat. You sit and wait to take a serving of potatoes until Ransom and Steve get some, then scoop up some grilled asparagus, and a single drumstick.

“Sorry, could I trouble you for another drink?” Ransom asks before you can lift your fork.

“Oh, of course, I forgot,” you push your chair out and grasp the arms as you stand, “Steve?”

“Just water for me.”

You nod and hurry back to the kitchen. Your stomach is roaring with hunger. You pour the rest of the soda in a new glass with the gin. Then you fill a glass with water from the filter on the fridge. You return and give each man their drink.

“Thought you were cutting back,” Steve remarks as Ransom swigs his drink greedily.

Ransom pops his lips and lets out and ‘aah’, “well, I’m only on number two. Usually I’d be at the bottom of the bottle.”

“Fair,” Steve shrugs. He doesn’t drink, even if he did, it doesn’t have any effect for him. You stopped drinking months ago so you could… Well, it hasn’t helped, has it.

“So, first draft when?” Ransom chortles as Steve answers with a growl. “I’m teasing. You’ve made good progress. I mean, the whole world just can’t wait to hear the story of good ole Cap from the man himself… and my grandfather is especially looking forward to it.”

“Mm,” Steve chews, jaw tight with irritation. No, how quickly his good mood flies away. “Deadlines… I am very aware.”

“He’s been working hard,” you offer, “he’s in his office everyday. I think you’re the first guest we’ve had in a few weeks.”

Steve nods but doesn’t comment. Ransom takes another drink. “Must be hard for you,” he remarks, “lonely.”

“I told her to invite Wanda over,” Steve snips, “if she’s lonely, she’s free to solve that problem.”

“Yikes, sorry I said anything,” Ransom cringes, “lighten up, old man.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” Steve huffs, “it’s not funny.”

“Well… you’re what…a hundred or something now? Pretty damn ancient if you ask me–”

“Hugh,” Steve snarls.

Ransom’s grin disappears in an instant. He puts his glass down heavily and leans forward. The men glare at each other. Then suddenly, they’re laughing at each other. You don’t get it. You can’t figure out if they actually like each other or not. It does your head in.

“Mathematically speaking, you’re old, but I’m sure the wife will say you’re spry and youthful in spirit, huh?” Ransom winks in your direction.

Steve sucks back his last laugh and rolls his eyes, “don’t be gross.”

“What? It’s a compliment.”

"It's none of your business," Steve warns.

Ransom laughs again. Steve doesn't and you keep your head down. You can't wait for him to finish this book, hopefully that will be the end of this relationship; professionally and otherwise.

💕

Ransom leans heavily on Steve. The supersoldier shoulders the man with ease as he drsgs him up the stairs. The upstart heir to a bookhouse empire babbles drunkenly.

"So, I get out of this meeting and see my fucker uncle–"

"Language," Steve girds, swiftly ignored as the story continues with similar profanity.

You follow behind, clasping your hands together anxiously. This isn't how you thought the night would end and you know the change in plans will upend Steve. You swallow a dread-filled sigh as your husband angles the houseguest into the spare room.

He as good as tosses Ransom onto the bed. You can tell he's annoyed.

"What were you doing feeding him drink all night?" Steve accuses as he faces you, hands going to his hips. That posture, great, now you're in trouble.

"It was only two," you sputter, "really– you can check the bottle."

Ransom giggles and lets put a belch, "I dropped a few xanny after that idiot uncle of mine got in my face."

"Really?" Steve twists to sneer at the sprawled man. Ransom is so pathetic it's almost impossible to hate him.

"What? Taking the edge off. You should try a few, old man."

"Go to sleep," Steve points at him and turns, marching towards you.

"I'll get some water…" you offer softly.

You precede him out, ready to scurry away from his roiling wrath. He catches your arm as he pulls shut the door. He tugs you back to him, lowering his voice.

"Are you…" he stares at you, his meaning in the angle of his jaw.

"First day," you know he checked the calendar.

"Good," he lets you go and exhales deeply, "I need it."

You nod. He used to be romantic about. Now it's just another chore. Almost mechanical.

"I'll just grab that water and–"

"I'll be waiting," he grits as his throat constricts.

You touch his chest and kiss his lips, "then I'll hurry."

His chest rises and he swallows loudly. He turns away first and you flit away. You know better than to keep him waiting.

You go downstairs and find a fresh glass from the cupboard. You watch the clear water flow into the crystal and balance it carefully to keep it from sloshing over the edges. You come back upstairs and gently tap on the spare room door.

With no answer, you let yourself in, assuming that Ransom's succumbed to his Xanax cocktail.

He's on the bed, just as you left him, eyes closed as he breath subtly under his sweater. You near the night table and set down the water. As you do, you feel a pinch on your ass.

You squeak and recoil. Before you can retract completely, Ransom catches your wrist and yanks you towards the bed. You hold firm, teetering but not succumbing.

"What are you doing?" You touch his thick fingers.

"You're too good for himmmm," he drawls out, "you know that?"

"Ransom--"

"No, it's true. You're so sweet, dolllllll."

"Don't call me that."

He snarls and you're suddenly flung forward with his strength. He pulls you so you collapse onto the bed, against him. You whimper, but not loud enough to be overheard.

"And pretty and..." He caresses your cheek as you turn your face away, squirming as he wraps you up in his other arm, "and perfect. The way you make my dick hurt..."

He rolls his hips and you shove against his shoulder, "get off."

"Shhh, baby, I know you want it too. He doesn't treat you nice. He can't give a baby, but I will--"

You struggle as he grabs your chin and rolls, pinning you to the mattress as he leans over you. Helpless, you writhe, kicking your legs as he smothers you in a sloppy kiss. He tastes like gin.

You bite his lip and he snaps back. You take the opportunity to shove him away and you scramble up off the bed. He reaches for you again but you stay beyond his reach.

"Sleep it off," you hiss and twirl away from him, off kilter as you try not to show how unsettled you are.

You flick the light switch and shut the door, leaning on it as you touch your lips. Hopefully, Steve doesn't taste the gin on you. Not like he really kisses you during anymore.

#ransom drysdale #steve rogers #dark ransom drysdale #dark steve rogers #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers x reader #drabble #corrupt-a-wish #marvel #knives out #mcu #captain america #avengers

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1tbls · 5 months

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swap au where kim has absolutely smothered himself in the accoutrements of cophood, till it's the only identity he remembers. because i think that's his extreme of losing himself, compartmentalizing himself away into work, not addiction and nostalgia like harry. what youth and better time does he have to cling to? it was always shit. it's his neat little role and place and power in the RCM he clings to as a greener pasture, the lesser evil.

harry precedes the story by flinging all his cop gear away from himself and begging to be someone different. kim precedes the story by cocooning himself in his uniform. what does he beg for? 🤔

#de tag #disco elysium #re: begging/kim's granted wish #something about personal issues but also corruption #but what could be as concise as ''i dont want to be this kind of animal anymore''#maybe some kind of CBT-type mantra.#or not wanting to see #debating if he should be a speed addict or if harry introduces him to it.#i think swap harrykim would be so toxic yuri but they still love eachother deeply and want the best and gentleness for eachother.#they just. have issues ♥️

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originalaccountname · 1 year

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Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

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janeelyakiri · 4 months

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"You make it far too easy to steal from you~"

killer (c) rahafwabas

og swapdream(c) song_a

nix (c) me

#jan draws #swapdream #utmv #phoenix!dream #not sanscest #killer sans #something new #the thought of a positivity corrupted killer crying gold struck me #so had to doodle #nix wishes to steal all the minions

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stellexpress · 2 months

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extremely biased because they're my favorites but god i think damsel/tower would be such a fun combination

damsel: don't you just adore the sensation of your heart beating? all i want is to make him happy ^_^

tower, an equally fragile vessel, dispassionate as a result of her divine ascension, and disgusted by any acknowledgement she's still bound by flesh and desires: how i pity thee

#꒰　✧　꒱ wish upon a star #// i do think they'd initially be “friends” in the sense that the tower would develope a savior complex and try to rescue the damsel #// experiencing the pure mirth of saving a corrupted version of her old self - something dainty and weak and unworthy of worship #// and along the way through the damsel's influence she perhaps reclaims some of her humanity again #// not in a “taking her ego down a peg” way but being more comfortable with bruising and allowing herself to enjoy things below her status #// like i dunno i think it'd be neat. two princesses idolized to the point of having their humanity stripped of them getting to talk #// someone should write a vessel roadtrip fic or smth (that someone will probably be me)#slay the princess #the tower #the damsel

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buwheal · 1 day

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I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

#GOD this fucker corrupted my gif again.#Ignore the page is missing im not gonna fix it. Hes looking at the paper. its just uhhh out of your view #made this one up on the spot lmao i dont have many inbetweens planned... if its not up to par to the others thats why #i wish i did do inbetweens but i only have the main ones planned #btw usually when he asks stuff like this he's looking for a response (im looking for a response. me.)#thank you anon oh my goooooodddd you were my descending angel while looking for an ask along these lines #this ask is perfect. Not too overcomplicated. nothing that would set him off. Short and sweet and to the point but its got nice impact.#in this context at least. I rlly needed it lol.#some were.. too much and some were really half assed apologies that go immediately back to asking him stuff LMAOOO #Guysss work with me here im actually trying to guide you to really apologize to him #[you've got mail!]#spamton #spamton g spamton #deltarune #deltarune spamton #deltarune chapter 2 #Ill fix the inside of the dumpster later. its not to scale goddamnit.#Typos in his speech are on purpose to clarify lol #spent a damn hour fixing the gif. grrhhhhh....

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luck-of-the-drawings · 7 months

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FOR A BEAT OF HEART, THE BREATH IS SHOT. AND WITHIN A BREATH, THE HEART IS CAUGHT. THE PIPES ARE BURSTING, UNDER GREAT STRESS, BOLTS TORN ASUNDER, MAKING A MESS. A FINAL COUGH, A FINAL RETCH, A GOREY SLOUGH, CLAIMED BY WRETCH.

#cw gore #jrwi riptide #jrwi riptide spoilers #chip jrwi #jrwi fanart #jrwi show #I LLOOOVE POETRYYY I LOVE MAKING WORDS RHYME IN STRANGE WAYS AND DESCRIBING VISCERA AND VIOLENCE OR WAHTEVER. YKNOW WHAT ELSE I LOVE #CHHHIIIIIIIBBOOOOO MY BEAUTIFUL MAAANN WWHAT. WHAT HAPPENED. OH MY GOD. IVE BEEN SAYING FOREVER. I NEEED CHIP TO GET SCARIER.#HE HAS THE POTENTIAL! I KNOW HE DOES! HAUNTED BOY WITH THE HAUNTED EYES WHAT TRAUMAS HAVE YOU SEEN? AND WERE THEY YOUR FAULT? THINK ABOUT I #EVERY FAMILY HAS CRUMBLED AROUND HIM. HIS BIRTH FAMILY CRUMBLED BEFORE HE KNEW IT. HIS SECOND FAMILY DROWNED. THIRD BURNED TO THE GROUND #AND SHALL THIS NEXT FAMILY JOIN THEM? CHIIIIP YOU UNFORTUNATE BOY YOU HAVE WITNESSED SO MUCH CALAMITY #YOU ARE CALAMITY BOYYY AHAHAHAHA DONT YOU SEEE!! ZOMBIFIED AND DEAD. TRUELY MORE HAUNTED THAN EVER BEFORE. THIS WILL BE FUN #THE FIRE HURTS WHEN IT BURNS TOO LONG. BUT NOW YOUR NERVES ARE DEAD AND YOUR MIND IS FREE. BURN THIS CORPSE AS YOU WISH TO GET WHAT YOU WAN #CHIP IS NOT THE FIRE HE IS THE MATCH. I LOVE THAT IDEA SO MUCH IM SO PROUD OF IT. OHHH AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE CORRUPTION #bizly mentioned that chip wants to be a good captain. in his most corrupted state however. he would be the BEST captain..#thAT DOESNT MEAn hes gonna just suddenly be all controlling. the BEST captain keeps his crew safe. keeps them together. keeps them alive.#and chip is doing just that! he doesnt need to stop being a good captain just bc of the corruption! he just needs to be the BEST CAPTAIN #AND THATS SUBJECTIVE BABY!! im so excited to see where chips zombie arc goes. neeeed him to get scarier and just a little more fucked up.#neEED HIM TO PERFORM ABHORANT ACTIONS THAT HAVE JAY N GILL GOING ' dude woah what the fuck...'#RIGHT I SHOULD TALK ABT MY ART TOO. this one took TOO LONGGGstarted out witha sketch how did it end up like this...#the heart and the blood KILLED ME. LOOK AT MY RENDERING LIKE HWAAATT #better not see any more mistakes after i post this.... i cant fight withit anymore....STILL RLY PROUD THO..#I WAnted to make it visually LOOK like the grossest vomiting sound possible #i want it to make your throat feel uncomfortable. am i achieving that? i hope i am. thats tubes dude!!! like cmahn!

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moshieee · 4 months

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Hiii @rabid-mercenary15 how would you react if I told you this is what happened?

(I'm sorry for my abysmal handwriting)

#its such a cool au and it made me relize there is actually cool stuff out there #im wish i could draw more fan art for it but tis the season to be busy i guess #low quality but all my art is sooo...#art #my art #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc au #tadc corruption au

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nyaskitten · 17 days

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I like how rather than Ras' ideology being like "Darkness conquers all" his whole thing is strength, and the true power one may have when they hold true strength.

#does this make sense .#im just happy hes not just pure evil hahahameuahahahahahaha i wanna corrupt the whole lands and i love shadows and darkness .#hes what the overlord WISHES his beta male cuck-ass could be #ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #raine's rambles #ninjago spoilers #ras ninjago #ninjago ras #lord ras

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scifur · 1 month

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the limit

rougher sketch that i also like haha:

#lumine #xiao #xiaolumi #corrupted lumine #i still often think abt that au #im so (not) sorry for the angst u-u #i wish lumine would stop rotating in my brain for a moment so i can draw everything else i wanna draw too i

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Blind Offer 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that's too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: Loooooook. I was gonna restrain myself but this all just got outta hand. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won't reveal which one right away because it'll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You keep your slippers just away from the edge of the puddle. The sheet of water extends almost completely across the kitchen. You hug yourself, still slightly groggy from your early and rude awakening. The washing you put in last night hadn’t finished and instead the sudsy mess had leaked out around the door.

There’s a sigh and a clank as your landlord pulls his arm out of the machine. Your sopping laundry is in a bucket by his feet. His shirt is visibly wet from his struggle to stem the steady flow dripping from the brim of the washer door. You worry you may have overloaded the compact stacking unit.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say as you sway guiltily.

“Don’t be,” he puts his hands on his hips and blows out. A golden strand dangles down his forehead, “it’s not you. My own fault. I thought these things might hold out for a while…”

“Oh?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to fight the beast but it worked. I should be sorry, I should’ve just replaced it.”

“Well, uh, what are you gonna do now?” You look at the wet tile, the scent of laundry detergent thick in the air as the water creeps closer to your slippers.

“Uh, yeah, well, obviously you can’t stay here.”

“I can’t?” You raise your head, running your hand up the front of your robe and clutching the fluffy fabric.

“No, bylaws say you need to evacuate until I can get a new unit in here. And clean up. Leak like this can leave mildew and mold,” he combs his large hand over his head, “I feel bad enough, I couldn’t let you live in this.”

“Okay… um, I have to work in a couple hours–”

“Oh, geez. Well, er, maybe just pack up a few things and I can take you over to the new place? You can always come back to grab more if you need.”

“I guess…” you chew your lip. His blue eyes fixate on the gesture so you stop. “How far is it?”

“Not very, about twenty minutes east by car.”

“East?” You utter dully, “that’s a bit far. I work up near the metro area.”

“There’s some bus stops that way but I could give you a lift tod–” There’s a sudden gush and he looks back to the machine, a bubble of water flowing up over the brim. He shuts the door, stemming much of it. “You won’t even be able to cook in here,” he says, “look, bylaws say I have to relocate you. I have a property free which means I don’t have to splurge for a hotel. If you prefer somewhere closer, then it’s on you.”

You frown. He’s not the worst landlord you’ve had but he definitely talks like one. He’s only really worried about his liability. Yet, most others wouldn’t have even brought up that clause and left you to wallow in this puddle of dirty laundry water. You shrug, hopefully the other place isn’t too bad.

“Right, uh, I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you relent.

“Great,” he says with blatant exasperation, turning back to face the trembling washer, his voice deflating to a hoarse rasp, “goddamn.”

You hesitate as you stare at his back. The gray fabric of his jersey henley strains across his shoulder blades as the back of his forearms clench, veins pulsing out. He rolls his head on his neck and heaves out again.

You turn on your foot and slowly pad out of the kitchen. You hear his sole squeak subtly but refuse to glance back again. You can’t help but feel that it’s all your fault. You’re sure he’s too nice to say so. Or too distracted by the chaos you’ve caused.

🖤

The new apartment isn’t an apartment at all. It’s a walkup townhouse with a sleek black and white exterior. The neighbourhood is far out of your range but you won’t complain. You suspect Steve is already aware of the deferential.

“Wow, this place is really nice,” you say as he holds the door for you. You step inside and take in the space; a narrow staircase to the next floor, black frames around grayscale photography, and minimalist decor in the form of a standing geometric floor vase and a coat rack with bent arms.

You stop to take your shoes off on the mat as Steve squeezes in behind you and shuts the door. You trip away from him, surprised by the friction of his body against yours. You’ve always been overly aware of yourself and how much room you take up. Your size makes it hard to not feel crowded, still the close brush rattles you.

He swirls the keys around a finger and stills them in his fist. He looks around emphatically and waves a hand.

“Well, this is it. It’s my only vacant property at the moment, so, it’ll have to do. Fully furnished, at least.”

“It’s great,” you assure him as you step further in, your duffel hanging heavy from one arm, “wow, it’s…”

“A lot bigger than your place. Yeah. New development. Invested at ground floor. You’ll be the first tenant, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” you go to the narrow bench of black acrylic and place your bag atop it. “I’ll try not to mess it up.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh, yeah, but obviously it’s above my paygrade,” you scoff, “I appreciate it and sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. Dropping a couple hundred on a new washer woulda saved us both trouble. I only got one person to blame,” he holds out his hand, “you don’t need a tour, do ya?” He offers the keys and you step up to take them, “I’ll be back around noon to get you to work but I got running around to do.”

“Um, I should be able to figure it out–”

“Oh, wait,” he puts a finger up, “the door code. Just in case. Also, you’ll wanna override the security system when you get in.” He turns and points to the sleek black box mounted beside the door, “I got it on my phone but you’ll just need to pop it open and put in the number.” He slides out his phone, “I’ll just text it before I forget.”

“Right,” you nod as you clutch the keys tight, “got it. I think I can manage.”

“Anyway, you got my number, you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he checks his watch, “noon,” he repeats as he points at you, “I’ll be back.”

He spins and opens the door, swiftly stepping through before swinging it shut behind him. You’re left slightly stunned and don’t move right away. You cross the floor and twist the latch of the door, a cautious habit likely unnecessary in this neighbourhood.

You turn back to your new abode and let your eyes rove. Wow. All this just for you. You wonder how much one of these places go for. Your monthly pay probably wouldn’t even cover a single week.

You shuffle forward, uncertain, expecting for Steve to come back through and tell you it’s all a mistake.

You peer around at the immaculate decor. Each piece is perfectly set and carefully curated. The long leather sectional and the matching square backed armchairs before the artificial fireplace in the wall. A low coffee table on a rug patterned in black and white, a touch of red in the throw pillows and the curtains.

Then the kitchen, white, pure marble, and pale silver appliances. The tile is marked by subtle dove grey diamonds, and a table sits against the wall with two chairs. You go back into the hallway and down towards the front of the stairs. You peek up at the top as you pass the small half-bath embedded on the other side.

Upstairs, you find two bedrooms, a full bath, and what appears to be a study, along with several spacious closets. It’s truly a dream. Who knew a broken washer could get you a stay in heaven.

Well, you should get settled in. Enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

As promised, Steve shows up just before noon. You have your uniform on but feel less than ready to go. The abrupt awakening, the displacement, and the typical dread of the overcrowded box store. Your job is less than glamorous and the townhouse underlines that even more as you bid it a reluctant goodbye.

Steve’s car is sleek and red and overpriced. You don’t know much about cars but you can just tell. The interior is squeaky and so clean you’re sure it must be right off the lot. That new car smell fills your nose and threatens to inspire a migraine.

You put your purse in your lap and buckle up as he turns down the volume on the stereo. You recognise the song, surprised by his taste. He didn’t seem the angsty type. As far from grungy as you can imagine.

“Smashing Pumpkins?” You comment.

“You don’t like them?”

“Don’t mind em,” you shrug, “just figured you were more into… I don’t know, just not them.”

“When I’m not unclogging toilets or changing smoke alarms, I actually do have fun,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I didn’t mean–”

“Kidding,” he assures you as he pulls away from the curb.

You watch the townhouses pass by as he slowly rolls down the street. It’s eerie. There are no other cars lined up in the spots parallel to the pavement. In fact, you don’t see anyone else around. Not through windows, not coming or going, no one so much as walking down the cul-de-sac. It is oddly isolated from the suburbs all around.

“Not like I have great music taste, I’m a disco junkie,” you try to laugh off the tension.

“Fun,” he muses dully.

You don’t respond. You’re on your phone checking Uber prices for the way back. Eek. You pull up the bus routes for the area; at least two transfers to get there. Shit.

“So…” Steve begins, “who you chatting with? Telling them about your tight-ass landlord or what?”

“Uh, no,” you put your phone down and black the screen, “I was just… tryna figure out how I’m getting home. Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” he assures, “what time are you done?”

“Nine, closing,” you explain, “it’s fine, there’s buses. I’ll just have to remember not to go to my usual stop.”

“I can come get you,” he offers.

“That’s… that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough–”

“Really, I don’t have much else going on. Besides the washer but my buddy’s taking care of that for me. I’ll be available.”

“If you don’t mind, but really, I’m gonna have to learn the route. Actually, when do you think I’ll be back at my apartment?”

“Couple of days at best. After we left, the water got into the motor of the dryer– to spare you the whole spiel, the dryer needs to be replaced too. And the floor might need to come up, water’s done a number on the laminate–”

“Oh,” you grimace, “I… that sounds bad.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Look, I know it’s probably not ideal for you to be all the way out here. I’ll keep you updated,” he speaks with one hand as his other remains on the wheel.

“Oh, no, I appreciate all your help. It’s just…” you cross your ankles and nervously wiggle your foot, “I’m just anxious.”

He hums and a thoughtful silence rises between you. He turns a corner and clears his throat, “about the apartment or work?”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah, uh, work, sure. Work always makes me anxious. Lots of angry customers and we’re headed into that season, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he nods, moving his hand low on the wheel as he sits back and steers lazily with the clogged flow of the city traffic.

“And the apartment,” you admit, “I’m not the best with change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees, “I’m a bit of stickler. I like order, you know? Everything has its place. Everyone has their role.”

You mull his words. It’s a strange way of putting it but you get it. You find your life erratic this time of year, when your schedule goes from predictable to hectic and fluid. Everyone wants to switch shifts and all the managers are trying to fill the schedule with as few bodies as possible.

“I mean…” he breaks the lull, “you know, I keep a pretty strict schedule with myself. Try to. You never know when you’ll get a call at 5am.”

You suck in air and look at him from the corner of your eye. His allusion isn’t subtle. The pit sinks further in your stomach. You don’t need one more person disappointed in you, not when you’re about to face Gwen the manager and her omnipotent clipboard.

“Yeah, uh,” you bend your arm and rub your neck, “sorry…”

“You apologise a lot,” he interrupts, “I’m not mad.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” you move your thumb to chew it.

He glances over at you before quickly refocusing on the road. He laughs, a hollow, gristly chuckle, “trust me, if I was mad, you would know.”

You blink. What? You’re not sure what he means. Is he joking? Maybe it’s that he’s such a nice guy that the change would be unmistakable or maybe he’s being sarcastic and you’re too stupid to pick up on it. Either way, you just want this car ride to be over.

“Right,” you eke out, “I’ll, erm, be sure to stay on your good side then.”

He slides his hand around the wheel to the top, squeezing until the leather squeaks. He shifts in his seat and exhales, “girl like you, I can’t imagine you being too much of a handful.”

His remark sticks in your ears. Again, you’re confounded by him. You can't read his tone as it's quickly washed away by the sudden blare of music as he cranks up the volume.

“This is a good one,” he calls over the music, “I’m sure you know it.”

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved" Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?

The creaky tones of Billy Corgan’s lilt surrounds you as Steve bobs his head. The swirl of noise and the shadow of tension mingle and suffocate you. You’re starting to look forward to work.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #corrupt-a-wish #au #multifandom #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu #more characters to be added #blind offer

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genshin-scenarios · 3 months

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Feel absolutely free to ignore this, but after the corrupt!xiao fic I’m curious: got any corrupt venti thoughts you’re willing to share?

Corrupt!Venti AU

DISCLAIMER: the rest of this is just an AU setting! not canon-compliant + may reference SPOILERS in general for the archon quests and genshinlore

"My dear warrior, have you come to devote your voice to me?

Don't worry now! I'll make sure to put it to good use. With my help, your story will never fade from the songs of time. That is what my love can promise you. Have I ever led you astray?"

I can see this being caused by the defiled statue the Traveler found a while ago! Along with some other attempts from the Abyss to weaken the Anemo Archon's power...

Perhaps in this AU, Venti tried going against the summoning of archons to Khaenri'ah, which led to a warning/consequence from Celestia; tying the entrance to Celestia somewhere on Mondstadt, so that if their enemies were to seek it out, he would be placed under the burden of protecting them, for if not, Mondstadt would too be run down (punishing a god for his kindness... things like that)

ANYWAYS, in this case, I think if the Abyss did manage to weaken him enough, he'd probably sense his own corrosion coming and put Mondstadt into a timeloop as a last means of keeping his people safe + keep out the Abyss?

It takes the last of his power and he leaves to the outskirts, where he hides away in a hidden domain to 'rest', but of course he can't stave away the corrosion forever, and it takes form.

You're within Mondstadt during this timeloop, and are eventually led to the hidden domain because you're the only one that can hear a mysterious song calling out to you

Cue corrupted!Venti luring you in, because by now, he's not exactly himself anymore - dark purple energy replacing his previous anemo teal powers and the shade of his eyes

But it's Venti, and even if he's forgotten about his nation by now (only that they're locked away to keep them safe, in the illusion of freedom and peace), he remembers you.

...Well, he remembers his attachment to you, and asks if you'd like to stay with him there, in that domain. If you lend him your voice, perhaps he can figure out a way to keep you with him forever too! (Read: do not, he is stealing your voice as a source of power to use)

But perhaps even this is because a part of himself deep down remembers how he loved to hear you calling his name, laughing with him, and the way you used to look at him with...

"Is that fear in your eyes?" Venti hums, circling around you with lightness in his steps. He's in his archon form, wings brushing against your shoulder. You try not to think about the last time he showed you this form - back when it was a secret between the both of you, under clear skies and teal feathers that made your heart soar. The purple that cuts into your gaze sobers you. "Would you prefer if our new home was more reminiscent of old times?"

New home, as if he's already decided you aren't leaving now that you've found your way to him again. You briefly wonder if there's any ounce of the old Venti still in there, and if he was perhaps keeping you close to stop him from doing all this.

...Or maybe, he was asking you to keep him company before the world falls down, knowing that once the timeloop could no longer be sustained, even with his corrupted powers, you'd have to step up as a hero once more. Slay the monsters, free the kingdom. Save your friends.

With a lilting giggle, Venti covers your eyes with his hands. And when he takes them away, the domain has turned into...

Windrise? No, some condensed version of it, with azure skies and calming wind trailing on for miles. The tree still sits there. You remember the first time Venti introduced you to the sight.

He calls your name, and before you is Venti, still in his archon form, but with his blue glow and green eyes again. He gives you a cheeky smile, and you feel your heart ache.

"Better?" Venti cups your cheeks, stepping closer to you to place his forehead against yours. It's gentle, but you feel a foreign energy that's seeping away at yours, like it's trying to steal more away.

Like he can no longer love the same, needing to take something as a keepsake, before this illusion ends.

Maybe doing so in this form is an act of mercy to you. Venti's always been one to make sacrifices that were lost to the wind.

#this... became longer than i thought #with a bit of a drabble at the start/end!#on a diff note - you guys really liked that wanderer-kabukimono thing huh /pos #genshin venti x reader #barbatos x reader #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin writing #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #traveler wishes #genshin corrupted au

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doctorwhoisadhd · 2 months

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[ID: reply from @seveneyesoup: "okay i'll bite what the hell is blaseball (i looked it up on wikipedia i have a general idea of if but it doesn't like, tell me what it was like following the game at all) /end ID]

this is such a good question that the answer gets its own entire post!!!!! im gonna try to distill it for u as best i can here goes

very much colored by what team u were a fan of if u were like me and in maincord. because a) teams had different cultures / lore / players / etc and b) they also had different stuff happen to them. however everyone did experience the same plot

it was something you could open any hour of the day :) like if i was bored at 3am i could just open blaseball (provided games were running)

you ALWAYS had questions. there were not answers for 75% of them. sometimes it was because the question was never designed to be answered in the first place. other times it was because we just LITERALLY did not know. also, out of the 25% of the questions we DID have answers for, 10 of those percents required you to make a spreadsheet to answer it, and 5 of those percents required you to seek out a specific guy who can answer it for u. the rest could mostly be answered by going into maincord and asking. but crucially the only way to determine which of these a question was was asking anyway.

it was basically like if fantasy football was both. an arg and massively multiplayer and also fucking insane. we were making choices having no idea what anything did and i cannot tell you how many monkeys paw situations there were. we were straight guessing up in that bitch

bits were everything in the discord. goku got incinerated once. there was a bee wedding. my team (the fridays) suckered the mods into giving us a second emoji once. bits got beaten like winnie hess after season 24 day 3 (a dead horse). it was incredible

so many fucking spreadsheets. awesome

THE FAN MUSIC SCENE WAS THE BEST THING EVER. like i think blaseball was probably the SINGLE best fan culture in terms of fan music ever created. it was really, really, really absurdly popular, moreso i would say than fanfic

loring players was so fun everyones ideas were so different and cool. most players were queer it was super fun. VERY VERY queer space and very awesome. it was fantastic in that regard

anything you could imagine probably happened in blaseball.

when in doubt, its a pun. or some kind of wordplay (chances were if u were theorizing, if it was a pun then you were at least close)

the discourse was so bad sometimes though (like. necromancy discourse sucked so bad. like please stop taking it so seriously necromancy is inherently funny!!! also oh GOD yorkcourse that was the WORST. basically ppl were mad that the fridays lored our favorite player as an 8 year old boy considering players die in this game)

#anyway york DID die like 7 seasons later #but at that point he had magically doubled in age due to being trapped in a giant peanut shell for 2 seasons #his corruption arc ruled tbh #ari opinion hour #blaseball #askbox #anyway i hope that was helpful #also GOD there are so many questions i wish i got an answer to #what the fuck was that quest shit that was os fucking cool and fascinating

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