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h0rnyauth0r · 1 year

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ghost wants to help teach you how to snipe! (but it turns into… something else)

i know i haven't posted in forever but i'm doing so much better so we'll see what happens <3

ALSO 1K??????? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHH

word count: 2.2k

tws: choking, unprotected sex, reader with vagina, pussy eating, cum eating, fingering, rough sex, cumming inside

you hate how cold it is on the rooftops, slow gusts of winds chilling your bones completely. you would normally complain, but with ghost being right next to you, you truly can’t. his large body blocks the majority of what should be hitting you, and you can’t help but feel giddy getting to spend time with him alone.

he gives off heat, thick layers of clothing doing nothing to stop the way his gloved fingers and muscular arms touch into you as you try adjusting the rifle appropriately. his eyes are looking you over to make sure your positioning is right; it’s not.

“you need to move some.” his voice is barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine as you turn your head slightly and only then realize just how close you are to him.

you gulp and nod your head, heat bubbling up in your tummy as you try to adjust yourself and the rifle once more. you can feel his eyes on your every part, silently judging how you just seemingly can’t do this right.

the darkness of the night is all that surrounds you, rifle aiming at some lit up targets prepared on base for you to use. you opt to fire with the newly adjusted position, but it’s no use.

the bullet whizzes into the very edge of the target, just scraping it. ghost sighs frustratedly, deciding to move closer to you so he can help (force) you into the right aiming position. you don’t expect his arms to wrap around you the way they do, causing you to jump a little as you’re moved around with ease.

once he stops, he’s speaking up. “try now.”

you nod, aiming down the sight and pulling the trigger. excitement courses through your veins when you notice the bullet hit the center of the target, a smile forming on your face.

“nice! did you see that?” you say, turning your head to him and immediately becoming hyper-aware of his face only inches away from your own. he nods, eyes staring down at you in a way that makes you feel a lot less cold than before.

it’s the sultry look that he always has that makes you break eye contact quickly, clearing your throat as you turn away from him and decide to take another shot.

following his prior movements of your body, you try once more to shoot and that’s when your confidence skyrockets. once again, a direct hit.

“yes!” you say happily, grinning and glancing over to the man. he nods at your work, opting to put a hand up for a high-five as opposed to using his words for the moment.

your eyebrows raise at such a random gesture, slapping his gloved hand gently and then move the gun over to the side of you. “did you want to practice at all?” you ask, swallowing harshly once you’re looking into his eyes again.

his eye contact remains so sharp in a way that sends spikes of heat in between your thighs, head shaking as he looks between your faltering smile and your bright eyes.

“i think we both know i don’t need it.”

you nod knowingly, almost feeling embarrassed. obviously he wouldn’t want to practice, he’s the best sniper on the base. you feel stupid for even asking, eyes wandering to the edge of the rooftop and looking around at the night sky.

the lights directly above the two of you make the view less visible, but it’s still beautiful nonetheless. you can’t help but wish you were able to stay out with ghost, that maybe this would be a date instead of him doing his job.

you decide to move around some to prepare to get up. “well, i suppose i should get going. i don’t want to take up anymore of your time.” you mumble.

as you move to get up, his hand stops you with a strength that has you wondering just what other parts of you he could move around so easily. you gasp out, looking to your side at him.

“stay.”

his eyes look pleading, emotions held in them that have you nearly melting into his touch. you immediately falter, getting back into the same prone position you were in before.

you don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. it’s like that for a while, silence between the two of you and the weight of unspoken words creating tension. you choose to take a glance at him, almost forgetting to breathe when you see the way he’s staring at you.

“it’s nice out tonight.” you’re embarrassed saying this, knowing it’s completely random to even mention how the weather is given the current circumstances.

he nods along though, which comforts you in some way. “better than normal.”

you sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. “why did you want me to stay out here?” you don’t want to pry, but it’s needed now. with the tension in the air and the crickets chirping away, your mind is left wandering.

one of his hands gently touch you, eyes pulling open from the pressure of his hand guiding you toward him. your body leans against him, his other hand snaking around your waist. you wait patiently for his words, but nothing is said.

instead, he’s adjusting your bodies so that you’re on top of his body, thighs on either side of his hips as you look down at him. the movement happened so quickly that you can’t think properly for a moment, just staring at him blankly.

your insides feel like they’re on fire from pure lust, face growing hotter from the feeling of a bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. you want to kiss him so badly right now, eyes desperately looking between his eyes and where his lips would be underneath his mask.

“please…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes fixated on that one spot. you unconsciously grind your hips against him, feeling his hands shoot to your hips where they dig in and he pushes up into you.

“fuck it.” he mumbles, hand flying up and pushing the mask up just enough so his lips are showing. you immediately lean down and press into his lips roughly, kissing him with every bit of passion you can muster.

your lips move against each other heatedly, one of his hands grabbing onto your neck to push you in more. you let out a whine when he starts grinding up into you more, the pressure absolutely soaking your panties and probably your pants, too.

the stimulation is just enough to have you gasping his name into his lips desperately, teeth clashing and wet sounds echoing in empty outside air. the hand on your hip is rubbing circles into it, making your body twitch as you push your hips down harder and harder.

he abruptly ends the kiss between the two of you, hands hurriedly pulling your jacket off before he hesitates to take off any more of your clothing. “will you get too cold?” he asks.

you nod, “it’d be best to leave my shirt on.” you mumble, trying your hardest to catch your breath. but he kisses you again, this time fumbling with your belt and then the button of your pants.

you stand up and quickly pull them off with your underwear in a rush, settling back down on him with your bare pussy resting against him. he reaches down and lightly presses his thumb against your clit, making you whimper out.

you kiss him again while he plays with your clit, eventually sliding down your slit and playing with your hole. his finger stretches you out and your teeth accidentally bite down on his lip as you gasp.

a second one pushes in as your lips leave his again, eyes looking down to where his fingers are thrusting into you and biting your bottom lip. your hips grind down and push him in deeper, eyes rolling back as you come closer and closer to your orgasm.

he slides his fingers back out though, looking you in the eyes as he slips them into his mouth and sucks gently. the sight has you moaning pathetically, a hand reaching down to palm his dick in his pants.

he grunts and pushes your hand away, quickly undoing his pants and pulling them down enough to free his cock. “are you sure you want this?” he asks.

you nod, hand reaching out and jerking his cock several times before lining it up and pushing just the tip in. you slowly sink down onto it, eyes clamping shut from the size and just how good he feels inside of you.

“fuck…” he groans softly when you clench around him, and you almost cum just from how sexy he looks. eyes glazed over, lips still revealed and puffy, and fists clenched roughly at his sides.

you start to move against him, grinding up and down on his cock as you reach out and grab onto his hands. he uses this to his advantage, pulling your body forward just a little as his hips start thrusting up into you quickly.

your mouth falls open, a mix between a gasp and a whine coming out of your mouth. “more…” you cry out, eyes widening when he pulls out of you. his body is moving yours around, your ass in the air as he adjusts himself to be behind you.

he slowly pushes himself into you from behind, fingernails digging into your ass as he bottoms out. the angle is much better than before, his hips slapping into your ass as he begins thrusting feverishly.

“so tight and pretty. and all mine.” he growls out, hand reaching around and gripping onto your throat as he fucks into you harder.

you can barely keep your eyes open, but you do when he leans your head back to look at your face while he thrusts. you can feel the pressure building up in you, a steady orgasm bubbling up from the pressure of his dick hitting every little spot that you know gets you going.

he squeezes your throat and you wheeze out, eyes rolling back and clit throbbing hard from the sensation. you can’t help but cry out loudly, even more so when his other hand moves from your ass to your clit to rub circles into it.

your whole body shakes as his movements quicken, his fingers pushing down on your little button as your orgasm hits you hard. you feel your thighs shake and you’re sputtering out incoherent words, a mix between his name and different curse words.

“that’s a good girl. so good for me.” he whispers in your ear, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and a content noise coming out from his praise.

he doesn’t stop after you come down from your high, hips never faltering but fingers leaving your clit after you try to squirm away from them. his hand remains tight around your throat, occasionally squeezing.

it’s not long after when you notice his hips sputtering and becoming more and more sloppy in movements, and eventually you can feel his cum fill you deeply. it’s leaking down your thighs, mixed with your own release and sweat as he finally pulls out.

you sigh out, exhausted but entirely satisfied. “that was amazing.”

he pushes your back into the ground, “i’m not finished with you yet.” his words are stern, and you let out a squeak when you feel his breath against your thighs.

he licks up your pussy, lips finding your clit and beginning to suck hard. you cry out, a hand slapping over your mouth to calm yourself as his tongue begins completely violating you.

his tongue runs along your clit in circles before moving back to your stretched entrance, sliding in and out of your hole before moving to your clit once more.

your orgasm approaches quicker since you’ve already cum once, a loud moan escaping your lips as you release against his tongue. he coaxes you through your orgasm, humming softly once he pulls back.

“you taste as good as you look.” he says shamelessly, and you don’t respond. your whole body is shaking beyond belief and you don’t think you can move anymore without falling over.

“i can’t move.” you say quietly, and he’s looking at you smugly as he pulls his mask back over the bottom half of his face.

he decides to help you put your clothes back on, hands gently taking care of everything and wiping your wet thighs down with a towel. “i can carry you.” he says, shrugging.

you shake your head quickly, “no! we’re not going to do that. it’d be so obvious we just fucked out here.” you disagree, arms crossing as you sit down criss cross on the floor.

he leans down to your ear, “you think they don’t already know, love? you were screaming my name. everyone here knows.” his voice is low and makes you shiver, your face going hot as you realize just how right he is.

needless to say, ghost carries to your room with knowing eyes glaring at the two of you the whole way there. but you really can’t care, knowing that this won’t be the last time it happens anyways.

taglist: @wwwurmomdotcom @kovieky @chibijusstuff

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#ghost #ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod #call of duty #call of duty smut #x reader #female reader #smut

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tarotwithavi · 1 year

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You from the eyes of your future lover / future spouse.

How would your future spouse describe you? How would they see you?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Piles : 1~2~3

For my females audience so I'll be using she/her pronounce in this post.

Masterlist

Paid services

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

She's the reason for my happiness. She is perfect in every sense. She fills my heart with so much emotions that it scares me sometimes. I can't imagine ever hurting her. I love her so much that it hurts sometimes. God if there's an afterlife please keep us together forever. I beg you. She's just so perfect and spontaneous. There's nothing she can't do. She makes the impossible become possible. She's magical. Well sometimes she's energetic and joyful and other times her mind seems to be all over the place. I love it she gets annoyed haha. She's a just to cute . I love how talented she is. She is intelligent but she's stupid. She's stupid because she doesn't see her beauty and her perfection. I never thought I would feel these emotions. She makes me feels mushy. Just the thought of her bring smile to my face. She's the light of my life. Without her my life would be in darkness. I wanna paint my world the the color of her skin. I wanna tattoo her smile on my body. Her voice is the only thing I wanna hear. Her laughter is my favorite melody. I would cherish it forever. God I love her so much it's driving me crazy.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

Who's she? Well she's my destiny. She is my begining and she is my end. She makes me feel like a child again. She's my other better half. These gushy-mushy feelings are all because of her. She is the reason I became a better person. She is the person I have been waiting for the my whole life. There's nothing more I want than to have a family with her. Just me, her and our pets. I imagine living with her and dying with her. I even want to be next to her in the casket. I love her to death. God knows I have never cared about the future but with her , I just feel as if I need to plan everything. I'm willing to go wherever she takes me to even if it's my death. With her I never feel scared or anxious. She brings me peace. I feel as if I can finally breathe after being suffocated my whole life. She's my morning coffee . she's my late night snack. she's like a cold breeze on a hot summer day. She's my sun, she's my moon and she's my star. She's everything. I wish she could see herself from my eyes, to see just how beautiful and mesmerizing she is. I want to express how much she means to me but I don't think I have right words for it. I want to make her my queen.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

She's crazy but she's mine. She's childish, she's goofy, she's a like a small kitten. Sometimes I just want to pull her cheeks so hard but I know she'll bite me. Oh how much I love her but she's stupid. She's not stupid stupid but she's hilariously stupid. She makes me laugh till I have tears in my eyes. She's like my personal comedian. She's my life long best friend. I am sure we'll never get old together. We will forever be high school sweethearts. She makes me feel alive. She makes my world light up. I love it when she argues with me. I love it when she gets annoyed with my pranks. Her face is so expressive that I can't help but laugh at her expressions. Oh how she's always in her own little world, how she's zones out when she wakes up. How she's ties her hair in a messy bun. How she runs like a child around the house. How she thinks she lives in her own fantasy world. How she unknowingly pouts while eating. How her eyebrows go up when she's surprised. I love her crazy ideas. She's a mystery that i wanna solve. I want to know where she goes when she zones out. I want her to take me with her where she goes , in her world. Where it's just us and no one else.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Hope you like it! And leave a note to show support ♡ Have a great day ahead !

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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calisources · 2 months

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𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘 (𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒) 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒. all quotes and sentences were taken from the movie troy (2004). change locations, names and pronouns as you see fit. mentions of war and politics are included in this post.

I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last.

Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now.

If they ever tell my story let them say that I walked with giants.

Men rise and fall like the winter wheat, but these names will never die.

Let them say I lived in the time of Hector, tamer of horses. Let them say I lived in the time of Achilles.

You gave me peace in a lifetime of war.

You're still my enemy in the morning.

You're still my enemy tonight. But even enemies can show respect.

I have endured what no one on earth has endured before. I kissed the hands of the man who killed my son.

I know my country better than the Greeks, I think.

You are a brave man. I could have your head on a spit in the blink of an eye.

Do you really think death frightens me now? I watched my eldest son die, watched you drag his body behind your chariot.

Give him back to me. He deserves a proper burial, you know that. Give him to me.

How many cousins have you killed? How many sons and fathers and brothers and husbands? How many, brave Achilles?

I knew your father, he died before his time. But he was lucky not to live long enough to see his son fall.

War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this. Ignore the politics.

My brothers of the sword! I would rather fight beside you than any army of thousands! Let no man forget how menacing we are.

Do you know what's waiting beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!

I chose nothing. I was born and this is what I am.

Imagine a king who fights his own battles. Wouldn't that be a sight?

Of all the warlords loved by the gods, I hate him the most.

Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone, and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?

Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity.

You say you're willing to die for love but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!

Go home, prince. Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow, we'll have our war.

Perhaps your brother can comfort them. I hear he's good at charming other men's wives.

You speak of war as if it's a game.

But how many wives wait at Troy's gates for husbands they'll never see again?

If you go to Troy, glory will be yours.

And the world will remember your name. But if you go to Troy, you will never come back... for your glory walks hand-in-hand with your doom. And I shall never see you again.

They say your mother was an immortal godess. They say you can't be killed.

You have your swords. I have my tricks. We play with the toys the gods give us.

All my life I've lived by a code and the code is simple: honor the gods, love your woman and defend your country.

Troy is mother to us all. Fight for her!

There are no pacts between lions and men.

Aren't you afraid?

Everyone dies, whether today or fifty years from now.

If I don't, you'll kill more men.

At night I see their faces. All the men I've killed. They're standing there on the far bank of the river Styx. They're waiting for me. They say, 'Welcome, brother'.

Last time you spoke to me like this, you were 10 years old and you'd just stolen Father's horse. What have you done now?

Do you love me, brother? Will you protect me from any enemy?

Well, then your men did. The sun god will have his vengeance.

His priests are dead, and his acolyte's a captive. i think your god is afraid of me.

Afraid? Apollo is master of the sun, he fears nothing.

I know more about the gods than your priests. I've seen them.

You're royalty, aren't you? Spent years talking down to men.

You must be royalty. What's your name? Even the servants of Apollo have names.

What do you want here in Troy? You didn't come for the Spartan queen.

Why kill you now, Prince of Troy, with no-one here to see you fall?

You should not have come here tonight.

That's what you said last night?

Last night was a mistake.

I have made many mistakes this week.

Of all the kings of Greece, I respect you most. But in this war you're a servant. And I refuse to be a servant any longer.

Sometimes you need to serve in order to lead. I hope you understand that one day.

Prince Hector, is he as good a warrior as they say?

You come here uninvited. Go back to your ships and go home.

The sun was shining when your wife left you.

She's up there, watching, isn't she? Good. I want her to watch you die.

And I've seen the limits of your mercy and I tell you now, no son of Troy will ever submit to a foreign ruler.

Trojan soldiers died protecting you. Perhaps they deserve more than your pity.

Pearls from the sea of Propontus.

Am I still your captive?

I have heard rumors of your beauty. And for once, the gossip is right.

Soldiers of Troy! You men are warriors! To lead you has been my honor!

Hector fights for his country! Achilles fights only for himself!

You were brave to fight them. You have courage.

To fight back when I'm attacked? A dog has that kind of courage.

It's no insult to say a dead man is dead.

I can't ask anyone to fight for me. I'm no longer queen of Sparta.

You're a princess of Troy now. And my brother needs you tonight.

Menelaus was a brave man. He fought for honor. And every day I was with him, I wanted to walk into the sea and drown.

I almost lost this war because of your little romance.

I want to see him grow tall. I want to see all the girls chasing after him.

Well, of course you do, she's a beautiful woman.

Then I'll make it easy for him to find me. I'll walk right up to him and tell him you're mine.

May the gods keep the wolves in the fields and the women in our beds.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

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adoresol · 2 months

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could I request bf!sungchan taking you to meet riize for the first time? btw love your posts sm!!

to say that you were nervous was an understatement. despite constant reassurance from your boyfriend, sungchan, that they would love you, you couldn't help but grow anxious at not meeting their expectations.

“baby, i promise everything'll be okay. you're stressing for no reason.” sungchan spoke as he began to put on his coat, looking at your through the mirror. you sighed and tried to find comfort in his words, ultimately aware that he knows them better than you do. “promise me you'll relax. they know about you, it's not like i'm just popping out with someone they've never heard about.” he walked towards you with softened eyes, reaching for your hands and placing a kiss onto your knuckles.

“i know... i'll be okay. i'm overthinking this... i just don't want to say or do the wrong thing and then they think i'm rude or that i don't deserve you.” sungchan shook his head at your words, pulling you by the waist into a hug. “you do deserve me. we're with each other for a reason, okay? i love you.” your heart fluttered at his words, a smile making its way onto your lips.

“i love you more.”

to say the least, you definitely underestimated how kind his friends were. as soon as you had entered, they all stood by the entrance with shy smiles, one that you returned with. seunghan had reached for your coat to place it onto the rack meanwhile shotaro gestured for you to try one of the meal options that the boys had prepared. “you should've brought her sooner!” sohee laughed, “maybe we'll replace you with her.” the quieter ones; eunseok, wonbin, and anton became much more talkative once you sat down and ate dinner.

you had figured out the role your boyfriend played in their lives and the role that they played in his. you knew that the bond between all the boys was special and demonstrated such great care, but to see your boyfriend so loved made your heart swell with newfound delight. the boys would be so quick to air out all of your boyfriend's business, habits that you weren't aware of from before the two of you became official. “did you know that sungchan would silence his phone so that he wouldn't constantly check to see if every notification he got was a response from you?”

“i think it was the third time he went on a date with you, he came back home and started cleaning with a smile. it was a little scary.”

you regret the feeling of shyness from before you met them, as at the end of the day, it was all worth it. little did you know, you gained six new friends that day.

“told you everything would go well.” sungchan smiled, helping you take off your coat as the two of you arrived home. “i know, i know... i'm just glad that it did. i love you, sungchan. and if they didn't like me, i would've tried really hard to make it happen. i wouldn't ever want to lose you.” his heart clenched at your words, bending down to place a kiss onto your lips.

“nothing could ever separate me from you, not even my friends' opinions. i love you so much more for our relationship to be destroyed off of first impressions.”

you nodded at his words of reassurance, smiling up at your boyfriend. “did you really show up half an hour early to every single one of our dates?” you teased, his eyes rolling at your words but a grin on his lips nonetheless.

“i'm gonna kick seunghan's ass.”

#adoresol ✮#riize #riize imagines #riize fluff #jung sungchan imagines #jung sungchan fluff #sungchan imagines #sungchan fluff #riize sungchan

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nocturnal-world · 7 months

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The push - Remus Lupin x female reader

The idea is...imagine Remus witnessing that your patronus has changed its form.

I'm missing older Remus stories, and I need to scroll way down to find them. Tumblr refreshes every so often and brings me to the first post. So I had enough and wrote a few things. Once again, maybe someone will like it...enjoy if you do <3. I plan on making a part two, and we'll see how that goes.

There are no warnings, except a larger age gap (reader is 22, Remus is 38) .

Imagine Remus seeing that your patronus has changed its shape. You were surprised as well. Whatever has been going on between you two was never given a name other than friendship. A denial of feelings is what I would call it.

For Remus it was also a feeling of not being enough for you. Of being too old for you. What could he possibly give you, he thought. Living from one paycheck to another? Never knowing where you will live next month? Having to suffer all sorts of slurs and insults once people found out he was the creature you chose as your partner? You had a life in front of you. He would not let you waste it.

And yourself? Apparently you were both presuming how the other would react without even asking for the other's opinion. There was a different pattern of thought in your mind, Of course you would not allow him to settle for you. Remus could do better than that. What could you possibly offer him? See, you believed that all your conversations were on surface level (they were not). You thought that once he would try to get to know you on a deeper level...he would find nothing there (Sirius teased him over how enamoured he looked every time you spoke). You did not see much worth in yourself at all. Oh, yes you hid that well. But, if you saw no worth in yourself, how could you possibly believe anyone else would find any. Remus would have spent hours proving you wrong if he knew. Just as you would spend hours proving him wrong.

There was another problem. To be with him would require of you to open up. And that thought alone frightened you. Yes, you two might have spent hours talking about everything. Or nothing sometimes. So, it is strange that it suddenly became something to fear. But perhaps for many it is not strange at all. Anyhow. If you suffered with such thoughts, why would you put Remus through all of that as well? He deserved someone better for himself.

Strange how similar you both were in that regard.

Well, apparently denial of feelings is how it would be between the two. Without a push, nothing would happen except longing gazes, and too long embraces when one came back safe from a mission. Or throwing oneself in front of the other to defend them against a dozen of dementors. It was the strongest patronus you ever casted. A bear that tore down every dementor which tried to get to Remus. Some got to you. Not many. But at least, Remus was safe.

As for that push - Well it just so happened, there was no need for long waiting. It's strange how fate works yes? I wish Umbridge had nothing to do to contribute to this, but sadly she did in a way. After coming to Hogwarts, she did a marvelous job at teaching the students absolutely nothing. With Voldemort returning, the students were vulnerable if there was no one to teach them how to properly defend themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione had a brilliant idea. Dumbledore's army. Not everyone believed the Ministry's lies. Soon there was quite a few students joining the initiative.

All in all they planned it quite well. But it was always good to get a second opinion. So, when Harry came to the Grimmauld place, it only felt right to ask the three residents of the house for assistance. Sirius was there constantly. He didn't need any convincing. Spending time with Harry, breaking some school rules, aiding in fighting Voldemort...and getting to call Umbridge a cunt as much as he liked. ...He would have done so regardless. But still.

Remus was there at the insistence of Sirius. The last few months have been difficult after his previous colleagues found out what he was. He defended himself when a hex came his way before he left that shop. See, even with witnessing that, he still thought of himself as a monster. After Sirius found out, he would have it no other way than Remus staying with him. And if the previous coworker somehow got too ill from eating one of Fred and George's experiments well...the twins left their things around constantly. It was an honest accident.

The girl? Well, she had a home of her own. Small place. Hidden. Cozy and simple. Sirius insisted here as well. She didn't know why exactly. And she couldn't be at Grimmauld all the time. But she did stop by as often as she could. After finding out about the hexing, it was more than other members of the Order. Good thing that Sirius handled it (it was an accident I swear), or she would have used something far more darker.

With Harry's arrival it was the four of them in the house. Planning which spells would be the most useful ones to teach. Considering they had cleaned the attic, it was as good a place as any to let Harry practice those spells with their supervision. That way he could get a better feeling on what should he pay attention to.

Spell by spell. Expelliarmus. Reducto. Stupefy. Expecto patronum. The push.

„I think that is a break for me. Anyone wants some tea?“ Sirius asked after an hour of dueling. James would be so proud of Harry. Remus was leaning back on one of the tables observing it all. Your dog was begging for food so you kept to the sidelines as well.

„I'm going back in three days. There is no time for breaks. I cannot let them down.“ Harry on the other hand was not backing down. He would not let anyone be unprepared. He would not let anyone lose a friend in front of their eyes. He needed to practice more.

„Harry, you will not be able to teach them anything if you fall unconscious from exhaustion.“

„Then I need to practice more, to endure as much as I can. The death eaters won't stop because I am tired. Voldemort will kill someone else while I am catching my breath!“

The others could only look at each other. One way or another, he would continue. With or without them. So it was decided, that while Sirius went to get tea, they'd practice something other than dueling. It was your time to step to the centre of the room. You agreed that you would cast the patronus. You would make random mistakes, which Harry would have to notice and correct properly. Remus would give him advice in case he missed something.

Considering she did well when casting a full bodied patronus, she didn't think there would be anything unexpected. First try, she moved her hand in a slightly different direction, which Harry noticed quickly. Second time, she didn't cast a powerful enough memory. Harry gave her some ideas. He would do well, they knew it. Third time, she decided to allow for some wisps to flow from the wand. Still not strong enough. Even here, Harry would give words of encouragement. She thought she saw Remus softly smiling in the corner of her eyes. She thought of that. The last time she saw him like that. It was after the Full Moon. Despite Wolfsbane, she found him pale in bed, wrapped up in blankets. With tea on his bedside table, she put a vinyl on. He mentioned he was fond of Cohen. He was a favourite of his mum's. A muggle store had that vinyl. She didn't have to think twice.

He mentioned that vinyl around six months ago.

If he had more strength in him, he'd get up and carry her with him to his bed in that moment. Nothing sexual. Just to hug her closer. To kiss her on the forehead. To nudge his nose to hers, until she gazed at him with that look. A look which left him thinking that it did not matter at all to her that he was a werewolf. Or 17 years older than her. Poor. Broken. At that moment he would know there was more to him. He'd nudge her nose once again until she blushed. Then he would press his lips to hers. And she would brush the hair away from his forehead. No, they would not let each other go. If only he had more strength. And courage.

She thought of him at that moment. At how she still managed to make him laugh to tears, even after that Full Moon. At how they both hummed to the songs. At what could be. The wisps got stronger this time. She saw the outlines of paws, only they were smaller this time. Strange. The whole bear seemed to be a bit smaller than it usually was. Remus's smile faltered, as he noticed what creature was forming in the room. The realisation was slowly dawning on her as well. It was not the bear she has come to expect, it was a wolf. She could lie to herself only so many times, but here was the proof. Right in front of him. A wolf making a circle around Harry. Coming to greet her dog. Harry was busy looking at the beautiful creature to notice two figures standing frozen in the room.

And sure, he hoped that it was him this wolf represented. She would not stop lying to herself, but she still hoped he understood now. What did each of them see though? He saw her carefree look fading. He saw her standing rigid in the centre. Was she ashamed? Angry? What if the wolf was not connected to him at all? He didn't want to meddle in her love life. If only to hide the jealousy of which he had no right to feel. What if there was someone with whom she felt as comfortable as she had with him the night that vinyl played. He had no right to wish it was him alone who would get to see her like that.

She saw him straightening up. She saw his smile fade. The clenched jaw. He was angry. A girl, barely out of Hogwarts fell in love with him. Just what he needed.

Sirius came up with tea. She was quick to apologize, saying all the practice made her a bit dizzy. Remus still stood next to the table. After a moment he excused himself as well. One could sense something went wrong.

„I suppose no one is in the mood for tea anymore. What happened here?“

„I'm not sure. The patronus appeared and right after they both left.“

A push needed to happen. However, that push can move events in any direction. Sirius had no idea what had transpired in that room. But he would do his best to find out.

#harry potter #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin x reader #older remus lupin #harry potter fanfiction

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months

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DAD WILLY okay I love the vids where babies are like shook when their dads shave off their beards so what about post season Will shaves his beard for the summer break and it’s the first time your lil nugget has seen him without one and he cries because like who tf is this strange man where is my dad…and Willy is so upset that your baby is scared of him but you’re cracking up because you love his beard too and go “he’s just as upset as I usually am when you shave” 🤣😉

Alright, so, I didn't really intend to post this today, but I just couldn't resist 🙈 I loved the idea for this scenario so so much, and I just had to create something out of it - even if it's a bit brief 😉

So, let's imagine it's set a few years earlier than this, with baby Eliot just over a year old during the off-season 🤗

[What can I say, I just love Willy with a good beard 🙈]

Dad!Willy x reader

Word count: 1.5K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

"He’s just as upset as I usually am when you shave"

"Hmm…" William mumbled to himself, running his hand over his beard while looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"Don't you dare," your voice came from behind him as you stood in the bathroom doorway, catching his attention.

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend chuckled lightly, as he contemplated what to do with his facial hair.

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean, babe... you know I don't like it when you shave it all off, which I know is what you're thinking of doing right now," you said firmly, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as you glanced at him, noticing the shaver on the counter.

"Well, it's my beard... I can do what I want with it," he countered with a mischievous grin, knowing he had some say in the matter. After all, it was his face and his choice. But you couldn't resist reminding him how much you preferred him with the beard, or at least some stubble.

"I know, Willy... it's just..." you said, offering a light smile. "You're just really hot with a beard – it gives you a rugged and manly look," you flirted your best.

"You mean I look like a tramp... or a monkey," he joked playfully, playing with the shaver.

"Well, maybe a little, but you're my monkey," you said with a sweet smile, walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his bare torso, resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a soft kiss.

"But babe, it's just too hot in the summer... And I prefer the clean look, you know," he explained with a gentle smile.

"I know, I know... just, please consider letting it grow back before the season starts," you pleaded, giving your best puppy-dog eyes.

"We'll see," he merely replied with a light chuckle. "But I am shaving my chest."

"Why though?" you asked.

"Because it's better for when I'm tanning," William chuckled.

"But I love your chest hair!" you whined playfully, adding a hint of mischief to your tone. "If I can't have your beard giving me love burns between my thighs, at least let me have something to grab onto on your chest," you winked teasingly, subtly hinting at potential sexual activities.

Causing William to burst into laughter, as he found your complaints about him shaving both his beard and chest every summer incredibly sweet and endearing. But nothing seemed to change his mind. Well, perhaps you had one little trick up your sleeve.

As he took hold of the shaver, you gazed intently at him through the mirror.

"Alright, but I'm warning you, if you keep shaving it off all summer, I won't shave my fanny for you…" you teased, testing the waters knowing how much he preferred your down stairs area to be neat and clean.

"You wouldn't!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I would!"

"No, you wouldn't, babe," William chuckled. "We both know you won't be able to let it grow without getting irritated... especially not during summer when you'll be wearing a bikini."

And you knew he was right.

But before you could counter with a witty remark, cries suddenly emerged from the kitchen.

"You win this round, Nylander," you chuckled lightly, before heading back to the kitchen to comfort your little son, who seemed to indicate that you'd spent too much time chatting with Dad in the bathroom.

"Shh, mummy's here, love," you reassured Eliot, lifting him out of the high chair and holding him close until his crying softened.

And while comforting your child, you suddenly heard the familiar buzzing noise of a shaver coming from the bathroom.

"Oh fuck," you softly murmured to yourself in disappointment.

Truth be told, it's not that you didn't like William without a beard. You always found your boyfriend incredibly attractive to say the least, but you just had a preference for him with facial hair. And not the delicate little moustache he occasionally attempted to sport. It just made him look like a young teen who couldn’t grow a proper beard, or a creep. No, you adored the thick stubble that adorned his masculine jawline and trailed down his neck.

Well, at least when he kept it well-groomed.

William had a habit of neglecting to style his beard during the season, letting it grow a bit longer than usual. And then eventually, he'd grow tired and irritated with it, deciding to trim it. But just a bit.

You always felt that William looked more rugged with a beard. Given his particular fondness for fashion, jewellery, and his lack of prowess in handy crafts, he wasn't always the epitome of traditional masculinity. However, seeing him with some facial hair just added a touch of toughness that you appreciated. Especially given that you knew he had a rougher side, both on and off the ice.

In a way, you saw it as a primal biological attraction – a preference for a masculine male, someone robust for breeding, to ensure the growth of a strong child.

And truth be told, he had played his part in that aspect: giving you Eliot, your first son. Who at just one year old, he bore a striking resemblance to his father. His big blue eyes and bright blonde hair had been copied and pasted directly from William. And if that wasn’t enough, he was a solid and hungry child, much like his dad.

As you held the toddler close, finally managing to soothe his cries of feeling momentarily neglected – again, a perfect mimic of William, you handed him a pacifier, gently set him down, and guided him towards the play area scattered with his toys.

And for nearly ten minutes, you engaged in playtime with your son. However, the abrupt halt of the buzzing noise signalled the deed was done. You almost dreaded how your man would look upon his return from the bathroom.

And as he emerged in the doorway, you had to stifle a chuckle. The tough and strong hockey player had transformed into someone who could easily pass as a college frat boy. And it didn't exactly please you.

Yet, as he approached you and Eliot, wanting to join in the playtime, squatting and settling down with his little family, you accepted the outcome as it was. However, Eliot did not.

The young boy took one look at his father, then suddenly burst into tears as if something had deeply upset him.

"What the-?" William was genuine bewildered by his son's unexpected cries.

And you couldn't help but burst into laughter, watching Eliot’s reaction to the sight of his own dad.

"He's crying... why is he crying, babe? What did I do?" William sounded almost panicked as he attempted to reach for his son. However, Eliot instead tried his best to crawl away from the unfamiliar sight and reached out for you to pick him up and hold him close.

"Shh... it's okay, baby," you tried to comfort your son. "It's just daddy," you reassured him in a calm voice, though laughter was bubbling up inside you.

Eliot's wide, terrified eyes remained fixed on William, while seeking solace in your motherly embrace to stop crying. But every time William attempted to approach and touch him, Eliot turned away, crying even louder despite the pacifier in his mouth.

And you just couldn't contain yourself any longer.

"Shit, what's happening?" William asked, utterly confused.

"He's just as upset as I usually am when you shave," you chuckled deeply, still holding and comforting your son in your arms.

"He's seriously crying because I shaved?" your boyfriend asked, throwing his arms up in defeat as his son gradually calmed down and settled his breaths in his tiny lungs.

"Seems like it, Willy," you grinned. "Apparently, he doesn't quite recognise you," you added with a soft smile, feeling rather pleased that your son seemed to strongly agree with your opinion about William's facial hair.

"I shaved last summer too," he tried to justify.

"True, but then he was just a newborn, love," you smiled again. "He's only seen you with a beard for the past six or seven months as his little brain has developed more."

And this time, William had to concede defeat.

Eliot had made the verdict, and it seemed the beard had to make a comeback.

"Hmm... I guess I'll have to let it grow back then," William chuckled lightly, releasing a deep sigh.

"Yeah, I really think you have to," you replied with a content smirk, already looking forward to when the scruff would once again adorn his handsome face.

Luckily for you, your monkey of a boyfriend had a good dose of testosterone, resulting in rather fast hair growth. So, during your holiday in Sweden with the Nylander family, Eliot could once again recognise his father.

That was until you told the rather amusing story to William's brother and sisters, who then convinced him to shave again, just to witness Eliot's reaction. And as predicted, it led to another bout of tears from your little boy, this time expressing very clear disapproval of his father's altered appearance.

Amidst the laughter, both you and Camilla realised it wasn't fair to Eliot. He was genuinely distressed, unable to recognise his own father - only a strange-looking man attempting to interact with him.

So, you persuaded William to let his beard grow once more and resist any temptation from Alex or Sandy to shave it off again.

However, there was one concession: he insisted on shaving his chest hair. That was non-negotiable.

#my asks #dad!willy #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

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trishlia · 1 year

Text

The Suprise

Characters: Chandler x reader (romanticly), friends x reader (platonicly)

Word count: 1.2k

contains: making out, mention of sex, naked. one shot

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, so its not that great and english is not my first language. I made the idea myself and I wrote this at 2 am and posted this 3 am so enjoy!

***

Me and Chandler have been going out for a while, but the other five didn't know about it. We wanted to surprise them by kissing in front of them, we would love to see their reaction.

It was a Saturday evening at Monica's apartment. Everyone was hanging around on the couch.'It's a Saturday, does anyone have a date tonight?' Joey asked.

'Not me.' Monica added. 'Same for me.' Rachel spoke.

'Yea no luck.' Phoebe exclaimed. 'Nope.' Said Ross.

'How 'bout you two?' Joey pointed at us.

'Me? Yea, I do.' Chandler said, 'She's amazing!'

'Wow, somebody got a date. What about you Y/N?' Rachel asked.

'Yeah, I have a date tonight.' I said, nodding my head. 'Lucky! I hate not going out.' Said Monica.

'Well, who's the date? What's their name?' Joey continued.

'Yea!' Everyone agreed. 'I'm not telling you guys. Yall are just gonna tease me with his name.' I rolled my eyes.

'Same, I'm not telling. But she's better than Janice I tell ya.' Chandler said.

We spent the whole evening talking in the living room, it is now 8 p.m. 'It's getting late, don't you two have a date to go to?' Phoebe asked.

'Oh right! Let me go get ready. Rachel can I borrow your-?' 'Yes! Let me help you get ready!'

Rachel brought me to her room and closed the door behind us. 'Well what about you?' Ross asked Chandler.

'Mine's at 9, we're going to watch a movie.' He stood up walking to the kitchen, 'What are you guys gonna do?'

'I guess we'll just play foosball the whole night.' Joey said looking at Ross, 'I'm soo gonna beat your butt.' he grin

'Hahah, the only butt getting beat is you.' Ross pointing his finger at Joey.

'Well have fun and good luck Ross, you'll need it. What about you Pheebs?'

'I was thinking about betting you for Joey but I know I'm going to win… 20 bucks?' She said happily.

'That's not fair! You have Joey! But sorry Pheebs, I'm not in my betting mood.'

'Its fine, Monica?' She turned her head to the black haired girl.

'Yep no thanks!' she said loudly.

I finally got ready and stepped outside of Rachel's room, who was walking behind me. 'You look gorgeous!'

'Wow! Where are you going all fancy?' Monica asked. 'Just the movies, I told you, Rachel! Nothing fancy!' The room went quite.

'Huh, what's wrong?' I asked, me and Rachel looked around the room. Noticing everyone was looking at Chandler. At that point, I knew I messed up.

'What is with you guys? Chandler?' Rachel was confused.

Chandler was standing still beside the refrigerator, his face was nervous. 'What? Mines at 9!' Chandler was now looking at me, making everyone do the same.

'Mines it's 8.45, and it's 8.30 I'm going to be late!' I walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind me.

'That was weird. What happened?' Rachel asked. 'Oh, we thought Chandler was going out with Y/N.' Phoebe told Rachel what happened.

'Pfft! Like Y/N would go out with a guy like Chandler!' Rachel laughed. Chandler was offended, 'Hey! What are you saying? Like she's out of my league?'

'Heck yea, she's out of your league!' Monica said. 'So you think I can't get a Y/N? I can get a Y/N okay?' Chandler said, walking towards them holding a piece of cookie.

'Come on! You and her? Can't see it!' Monica added. The others seemed to be agreeing.

***

'And they said you are out of my league! And said that we aren't a match !' Chandler said as we were walking at the park going back home. 'Don't make a fuss about it.' I said, 'Tomorrow we will surprise them, I have a plan in mind, but it includes us making out.'

'Okay, I think I like that.' Chandler said, smiling.

We are now at my apartment. 'So are we actually going to make out?'

'Of course! Why would I lie about that?'

I quickly pulled him in for a kiss, he then kissed me back and put his hands around my hips.

'My dream has finally come true' he said.

The kiss led us to my room, he pushed me on the bed and continued to kiss while he was on top of me. I was cupping his cheeks and giving out a moan.

The next morning, I woke up seeing Chandler was already awake sitting beside me fully naked. He covered his lower body with a blanket. 'Good morning, sweetheart. How was last night?' He said smilingly looking at me.

I sat up straight 'Good morning, honey. Last night was interesting..' My face was all red, we had sex last night. 'What, good, interesting?' He asked.

'Amazingly interesting..' I stared blankly at myself and notice I was naked and there was nothing that was covering my upper body.

'I can see that you're enjoying the view.' He laughed as I said that.

Chandler wore his clothes and went back to his apartment. I quickly changed and walked to Monica's apartment bringing Rachel's Jacket that I borrowed.

I opened the door to the apartment seeing that everyone was making fun of Chandler. 'Look, Y/N! Someone came home with the same clothes he was wearing last night,' Monica said as she walked towards me.

I smiled at Chandler, 'Whoo hoo! How was she?'

'Incredible! It was probably the greatest night!' He said, forgetting the woman he was talking about was in the room. His face got red quickly.

'Alright then, Rachel! Your jacket.' I said

'Oh thanks Y/N, just tossed it inside my room'

I did as I was told and walked towards the kitchen where everyone was hanging. 'You're not the only one who was having fun last night, Chandler.'

'Whoo hoo!' Everyone whistle.

'Well, how was he?' Chandler asked.

'He was amazing! It's like the dream you had Monica! He really did me.' I said. 'Really? Lucky!' Monica said.

As everyone was eating breakfast, it was the perfect time to show everyone that me and Chandler were dating, I have the perfect excuse as well. I gave Chandler a head signal and he nodded.

'Well I gotta get going, this grocery list is not gonna finish by itself.' I said, 'Wanna join babe? I asked him as I was walking towards him.

The room was now silent, everyone stared at the both of us. 'I told you I can get a Y/N' He said putting his arm around my shoulder, he turned his head to me, kissing me softly on the lips. 'And yes, I would love to help with your groceries darling.'

'Alright then, finish your breakfast. I'll be waiting downstairs' I said, walking out of the apartment.

Everyone is now staring at Chandler, 'You and her? You and her?!' One of the five said. 'I can't believe it, I just can't!' Rachel added.

'What's the big deal?' Chandler scoffs.

'Can't you see? You're the most awkward guy with bad social skills gets the girl while me and Joey didn't!' Ross said.

'Yeah! I can get any girl but she dumped me, remember?' Joey added.

'Oh, I see it now.' Chandler spoke, 'Alright let me eat my cereal. I need to get going.'

'Wait, so that means you had sex with her last night?' Phoebe finally spoke, 'Wow! Did she top you?' 'Nope,' Chandler replied.

He ate his breakfast and walked towards the front door 'See ya guys!' Closing the door behind him. He walked downstairs to Central Perk seeing me drinking coffee waiting for him 'Hello darling,'

'Hi sweetheart.'

#chandler bing #friends #chandler x reader #friends x reader #monica geller #rachel green #phoebe buffay #ross geller #joey tribbiani #writing #writeblr #smut #mention of sex #writerscommunity #one shot

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mcflymemes · 1 year

Text

RELATIONSHIP PROMPTS FOR POST-BREAKUP MAKEUPS * assorted dialogue for couples who want to try again

i never stopped thinking about you.

i didn't realize how good i had it until you were gone.

you were always on my mind.

so... what are we?

what we had was perfect.

i should have begged you to stay.

do you regret how it happened?

i want to keep trying. for us.

i replay our final argument in my head all the time.

after all this time? really?

i made a lot of mistakes. i said things i wish i could take back.

i didn't think you'd keep that.

i never forgot that night.

why do you keep looking at me like that?

you have no idea what you do to me.

for a while i saw other people, but none of them were you.

of course i remembered. how could i forget?

this place always makes me think of you.

i'm not giving up on what we had.

can we even go back to the way it used to be?

i haven't been back there since our first date.

of course i kept it. it reminds me of you.

i can't breathe without you.

i had a ring and everything.

no one ever made an impact like you did.

you were really one in a million.

i tried dating. i just couldn't get you out of my head.

i never fell out of love with you.

you were so good to me, and i blew it.

do you want to go out on a date? see what happens?

i really messed things up, didn't i.

i wish i could take it all back.

i've always loved you. always.

nothing feels right since you left.

the sight of you leaving is burned into my brain.

do you have regrets?

you sound like you're still in love with me.

would you ever consider taking me back?

i never moved on. not for a minute.

it was always you.

that didn't change how i feel.

i'll be better this time. i've learned from my mistakes.

i feel like i haven't seen you in ages.

you think you can just walk back into my life and act like nothing happened?

maybe i'm still in love with you.

you're everything to me. you always have been.

i never should have said that. i regret it all.

we're different people now.

what if we tried being friends?

i haven't smiled since you left me.

everything got colder when you left.

you could move back in with me, you know.

i still want you just as badly as i did back then.

what's your favorite memory from before?

i can still feel your touch as if it were yesterday.

you didn't deserve the way i treated you. i should have been better.

i'm sorry for everything. i really am.

we needed space. we were never going to work.

i missed you. more than you know.

could we try again? for old times' sake?

maybe this time we'll get it right.

you weren't there for me when i needed you.

they always said we were the perfect couple.

could i move back in?

do you still love me?

we both made mistakes.

the world lost its color when you left me.

how many years has it been since we ended things?

maybe we were meant to be together after all.

i never want to let you go. not again.

things didn't work out with them.

they think i'm still in love with you.

i said your name once. in bed.

i can't function without you.

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lunedottir · 10 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤVAMPIRE .. !

where you made a real big mistake, but Miles made the worst one look fine.

inspired by Oliva Rodrigo lyrics.

pairing: e42!aged up!Miles x reader

genre: angst, no comfort.

warnings: infidelity, both of them are 19, cursing, Miles being toxic

a.n: hi guys! i haven't posted day 2 of my writing challenge so here it is! i'll post twice today to make up to it, and i'm already working on it! love y'all, enjoy! xoxo.

taglist form

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPLEASE CONSIDER REBBLOGING!

you hadn't heard from Miles in days. sick worried, you had talked to all of his friends, and all of them would just shrug you off, and you knew something was wrong. you knew that it wasn't exam season at college, so why was he avoiding you? leaving you on delivered every day, not answering your calls, nothing. it was like you never met each other. until you got a text from an unknown number: a picture of Miles kissing another girl. the one girl that would always say how cute you two were together, the one girl that Miles told you not to worry about. you just couldn't believe that, after all of that you've done for him, you ended up being the fool. you texted him that same day.

you: we gotta talk.

mi vida <3: im omw

you: bet.

(delivered at 3pm)

he showed up at your window in his prowler suit at 2AM while you were writing your daily diary entry.

"hey." he called, making you look up from your notebook. "you good?"

"yeah, i'm good."

he looked at you, and you could see that he wanted to tell you something. you knew him better than he did, and that was the worst part of it.

"spill it."

"i… i fucked up, ma."

he mumbled out, and immediately you knew what he was talking about. why he was so distant. why his mother was avoiding you, why even his uncle, who was never even nice to you, asked if you were okay this morning when you ran into him.

"fuck yeah, you did."

"i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-"

"no you're fucking not. don't bullshit me, Miles Gonzales Morales."

"can you listen to me first?"

"no! no, i can't! God, i can't believe how stupid i was."

"ma, you're overreacting."

"am i? am i overreacting when some random number text me a picture of my fucking boyfriend kissing the one girl i was insecure about?"

"it was a one night stand, ma, i made a mistake! i love you!"

"no, Miles, i made a mistake. i made a real big one, and you made it look so fine!" you raised your voice, tears flooding your eyes. "and you can't love anyone, because that would mean you have a fucking heart!"

"c'mon, y/n, you're better than this. bet it was those crazy friends of yours that filled your head with that bullshit."

"don't you open your mouth to talk about them! they warned me! they told me you were bad news and you called them crazy like you did just now! God, i hate the way i called them crazy too…"

you leaned back, covering your face so he wouldn't see you crying. he walked to you, taking your hands and analyzing your face carefully.

"are you done? can i kiss you now?"

you scoffed, pushing him away

"is she better than me?" you mumbled, wiping the tears away.

"what?"

"is she better than me, Miles?

"you can't ask me that-"

"yes or no?"

he was silent, but you felt the energy shift.

"no one is better than you."

"it's incredible how you lie without flinching."

"listen to me-"

"get out of my fucking house."

"woah, who do you think you're talking to?"

"a stranger." you looked into his eyes, and you knew he knew it was over. "i hope you're happy, Miles. i truly do. but we both know that you'll never have another me."

he started to walk away, ego as shattered as your heart.

"thank God for that."

you took the ring out of your finger, placing it on his hands.

"we'll see about that."

you watched as he walked away, giving you one last look before leaving through the window. as you set down on your bed taking the notebook to write that down, you felt your eyes tearing up, and soon teardrops were staining the black ink that covered the pages. you knew that, eventually, Miles would regret that, but it would be too late.

this is so bad, i'm so sorry (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠) i hope y'all like it and let me know if you want a part two !! love y'all, xoxo!!

taglist: @elusive-honeydew

edit: I'm working on a part 2 of this one!!!!please lemme know if y'all wanna be tagged!

#42 miles morales x you #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv x reader #moon writes!#writing challenge #miles morales angst #i'm sorry this is terrible #miles morales #miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #42 miles morales x reader

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lvrsparadise · 6 months

Text

'strangers.' - M.S

synopsis - "and then one random night when everything changes, you won't reply, and we'll go back to strangers."

warnings! - angst, kissing, profanity, depressing (i hurt my own heart writing this), italics are flashbacks, the bold italic in matt's pov is his thoughts (he's battling with himself). based on strangers by kenya grace

a/n - i wrote this in math class..... anyways. i absolutely love this, but hate myself for making it so sad. also, just to clarify, when the text part comes up, he's not cheating !! my friend thought he was and i had to clarify. (ths is me stalling as i try to finish the tracklist post and finish nikes (i started it!!!))

i smile as i get in the car,

we’ll get in your car.

matt leans over and gives me a kiss.

and you’ll lean to kiss me.

i look to the backseat to see the seats down and blankets and colorful lights decorating the back of the van.

“what’s that?” i turn my head to him with my brows furrowed, but a smile on my face nonetheless.

“movie night under the stars.” he smiles as he puts the car in drive and starts driving.

“you’re kidding right?”

“no, i’m not.” he reaches over and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together and resting our interlocked hands on the center console.

we’ve parked in a field with the sunroof open.

i get out of the front seat and open the backdoor, crawling into the back of the van, lying on all the fuzzy blankets.

“how long did it take to set this all up?” i laugh as he gets in and lies down beside me, opening his backpack and getting out his laptop before pulling me into his arms.

“don’t even ask.” he shakes his head softly with a chuckle before he kisses my head and opens his computer, turning on our favorite movie before grabbing one of the many blankets and draping it over us.

we’ll talk for hours and lie on the backseat.

----

i sigh as i turn my phone back on.

maybe i’m being too paranoid.

maybe he’s just busy, being famous is time consuming.

and then one random night

i try to refocus on the show that’s on my tv, for the 4th time. nothing’s working. why can’t i distract my mind long enough?

i only just sent the text.

maybe his phone’s dead.

when everything changes

no. i shake my head softly to clear my thoughts and i grab my phone and walk into my kitchen, placing it on the counter before walking back to the living room and switching the tv to a movie i’ve only seen but a thousand times just to rip my mind away from him.

you won’t reply,

and we'll go back to strangers.

----

my eyes light up when i look at the bouquet of red dahlias in matt’s hands.

“where’d you get these?”

“i kind of drove around for like 3 hours searching for a shop that sells them.” he chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his head.

“well, they’re gorgeous!” i look back up to his face to see the kindest smile on it, making his otherwise sharp features soft and kind.

“i’m surprised you still remember, i told you these were my favorite back in middle school.”

“of course i remembered. i always remember everything you tell me. i'll write them in my notes app or i'll go home and write them in my journal for me to go back to.” how does this man get any better?

“i-” i’m speechless at the small confession, his words meaning more than i thought they would, making my heart flutter.

i take the bouquet into my hands and smell the flowers, smelling as good as the last time he got me them.

“do you want to take those with us, or do you want to set them in a vase first?”

“i don’t know, actually.” i chuckle and look back up at his face.

“here.” he grabs them from my hand and gestures for me to walk back into my house, him following in after me.

we walk into the kitchen and i immediately spot the vase my mother got me for my birthday. i grab that and fill it with some water as matt sets the bouquet on the counter, unwrapping them and cutting the stems.

i set the vase in the middle of the island and matt carries over the flowers, placing them in the vase before grabbing one out and handing it to me.

“thank you matt.” i place one hand on the side of his face, pulling his face closer and kissing him.

“anything for my pretty lady.”

----

it’s been a few hours, maybe he’s replied?

i’m hungry anyways.

i get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen, grabbing out food and making me something to eat before picking up my phone.

i take a deep breath and turn on the screen.

nothing. great.

stop overthinking it. it’s probably nothing.

i open my phone and click on instagram, looking through everyone’s stories, matts popping up first.

it’s just a promotion of their new video.

that’s right, maybe he was filming and didn’t get to be on his phone.

---

!Matt’s POV!

i stare at the text on my screen for a little longer than i should.

pretty girl ♡: hey, i was wondering if you wanted to go out to eat tonight?

i just lock my phone and toss it next to me on my bed.

and then one random night

it’s not her fault, it’s mine. i just can’t be around her anymore.

we’ve already fought about it many times. im just helping.

when everything changes.

right?

she’s mad i don’t want to show her off, which is wrong. i want to. so bad.

but i don’t want her to get hurt.

but isn’t that what you’re doing to her now?

shut up.

all you’re doing is making her hurt more.

stop it.

it’s your fault if she shows up at your door crying and screaming.

that won’t happen.

yes it will. and it’ll be all your fault.

i said stop it.

you can’t get rid of me. not like you’re getting rid of her.

i’m not getting rid of her. i'm helping her.

like ghosting her is helping her.

you won’t reply

i scrub my hand over my face and sigh.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

there’s no going back now.

and we’ll go back to strangers.

Tags ! ✮

@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮ @mxqdii ✮ @thetriplets3 ✮ @slaysturniolo ✮ @gwenlore ✮ @opheliaofficial07 ✮ @gabbylovesreading ✮ @luvsturniolo ✮ @itsaaliyah2 ✮

If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮

I love you all !

And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ✮

#l writes!#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo angst

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elderwisp · 25 days

Text

The Creative Process ‧₊˚✩彡

Because I love to be distracted

Hi! Ok, I wanted to share wif everyone my process in which I create a story post from conception to the final post. I would say I'm a very structured person when it comes to projects like these however, I've learned a lot and maybe someone could find something useful! We'll be referencing this scene. Oke, let's start!

✩ Rough Drafts

So, of course everything starts off with a vision. While I always say, write what feels authentic to you, I also know it makes things much more difficult if you don't have a solid ground to build from. I think I've scrapped this particular story about twice already and even reshot the first chunk of Tessellate so there was a better foundation. I like to start off with understanding a character before moving onto creating a plot, otherwise people start bleed into another. Greta Gerwig makes a really awesome statement about how characters come first to her before plot. OKE with that in mind, this particular scene, I wrote it well over a year ago, however there wasn't much flow in the initial draft. In fact, the two look nothing alike. This conversation was supposed to occur during France's concert, but I moved it to to this particular scene and I'm so glad. I felt like their current relationship was strong enough to have this conversation but also it allowed me to really focus in on the two. I am a huge advocate for jotting down dialogue even if things change because you can always expand on an idea. And if things don't work, scrapping is okay, but at least you gave it a shot! After that change, I didn't revisit that scene up until about a month and a half ago. I like to let things sit for a good while. In the initial draft, Taryn was reserved throughout a majority of the conversation. There was limitations in which how I wanted her to express things but things change in a year. When I looked at her as a character and how she's progressed throughout the story, the draft no longer aligned with her lack of response. And then that created the question of what the heck does one say? Because people aren't typically very graceful or eloquent when it comes to confrontation but also we're telling a story so how do I balance the two out? Since, I've followed these little blorbos for a while, knowing their characters and motives allowed me to flesh everything out. Atlas is much more cunning than he lets on and is excellent at painting a pretty picture for those around him if it means getting what he wants. Taryn on the other hand is perceptive and unwavering so being around someone like him, someone that she finds herself slowly falling for, is a complete, well, mind fuck. We can also see from this interaction that there's a hint of feeling inadequate and the lack of confidence to know that maybe he does like her. We also see that Atlas maybe isn't the most mature when it comes to developing something real so the two have plenty to work on just from this scene alone. Like Greta Gerwig says, writing is listening.

I also wanted to mention LocalScriptMan and this video all the time because it just about changed how I viewed dialogue in general. I think it's such a great tool! I've probably shared it a billion times.

✩ Blender & Posemaking

So I would like to preface this by saying, you do not need to use blender to achieve a vision. There are still scenes that I still use poses/animations from other creators! I wanted to list a few references! Rebouks, Rascgal and Simmireen have an amazing variety of poses to use! I literally use Becca's bumper packs RELIGOUSLY! However, if you need any suggestions, SurelySim's has an excellent breakdown on getting started with posemaking from tiny details, to SimRipper and using accessories! She also talks about Vyxated's Pose Helper which is a god send! For this scene I wanted to fully pose it. In my script, I italicize anything I want to pose, I'm such a sucker for the mannerisms that people have. When words fail, body language speaks. Are they fidget-y, or do I imagine them to be more composed? Taryn's stance is grounded, she doesn't move at all in the scene except for when she leaves and I think it's a great representation of her stubbornness. Whereas Atlas is watching every single move, up until he makes his incredibly bold (ridiculous!) statement. As for emotion when he made that statement, I wanted to go with shame but then I felt like his expression radiated ruthlessness. I personally enjoyed that 10x more because it represented two things for me, his character and that he felt comfortable enough to show that part of himself. When posing a scene from start to finish, it takes me about 1-3 days depending on how complex it is. I'm a huge advocate for using references! I love referencing hands, posture, how to grab a book ANYTHING! Because this was a conversation and not much action happened, it took me about a day.

✩ Taking Screenshots and Composition

I began taking photos for this scene on March 6th. I use to use this reshade preset by growfruit however, after tinkering with some settings I use like a mish-mash blorbo of a preset. Amobae and Sforz have some cool LUT's for download (I think of it like a filter? That's probably not what it is but MEH) and I love the qUINT's lightroom shader as well. Huge advocate of relight, I was today years old when I learn that you should load it at the top of your shaders order so you don't get like a weird whitecast. These spotlights though are super fun too if you don't use reshade! There are some photographers on instagram that even go over how to use lightroom and it can translate to game as well! For the most part, I try to keep screenshots pretty simple, editing-wise but there are moments when I doodle in little hairs, add in some texture and include shadows for, uh, DRAMAAA. Lately, I've been incorporating intricate fonts because idk sometimes my brain enjoys a little graphic design moment. Sometimes shooting conversation heavy scenes can get so repetitive so I like to look at film stills on pinterest or pay close attention to a film and how they present the camera work in a conversation. Rule of thirds is a great reference tool to use, I believe GShade has a shader for that. However it's okay to experiment, it's not an end all be all. I love looking at animators and how each frame is incredibly intentional, whether it's a shot from above or a really close frame. The beginning of this scene, I honestly didn't have a clue as to how I wanted to open it up since they were walking down a hall. Then I noticed the detail in the fencing and how the tiles were opposite. Using the TOOL mod, I was able to get them both in the center and it created a strong opening shot of how different these two are.

✩ Editing

My god, I love editing but also this is usually the moment where I get so freaking distracted. This process takes me a day if I am focused.... But realistically it takes three days.... That's why I try to keep things to a minimum. I do use Photoshop. I like to use this sharpening action (the other actions are awesome too!) for story posts, I crop each photo (I use a 9:5 ratio and a 16:6 ratio if I need to focus on something specific idk why i picked those numbers yo), and add in text. Dafont has a lot of different free fonts. I like to use these little guidelines if sentences needs to be centered.

For adding umph to text, I like to use two things: The warped text option when using the type tool or just going to the distort panel and using the wave option!

Also bottom right of your layers channel is an fx layer. I like to use stroke and drop shadow on all text so it doesn't get lost within a photo!

✩ Finalization and My Schedule

That story post was uploaded on March 29th. As of right now, I like to stay three weeks ahead so I have three weeks worth of story posts marinating in my queue LMAO. I always reread things like a bajillion times, sometimes I'll go back and tweak conversations if they feel a bit stiff. Having that three week buffer also gives me time to really dedicate myself to details and focus on being present with a future scene. Another perk is, it allows me to work on cleaning up the script, plotting for future arcs, and having fun with edits. When I used to upload story videos on youtube, I didn't really plan ahead and it was so chaotic for me. Sometimes I didn't have enough time to actually create a solid episode so things felt rushed because on top of that I had a schedule I committed to. This isn't necessary but structure and patterns is something my little brain needs.

I hope this maybe provided some tips for people wanting to start out or it was just a fun little thing to read! One final OP tip is to write about something that you enjoy, something that matters to you. I'm one mf that loves a fleshed out character arc, that doesn't like linear plots and for fucks sake I love a good slow burn and I think all of that reflects a lot which helps me be engaged.

#damn me really talking about my hyperfixation with the fellow gamers #there might be hella run ons sorry my brain is a run on i don't control dat #u get one sneak peak too in the film roll #i wish i had rough drafts of dialogue but bc i use google docs i don't have any prior copies >.<#idk wtf to tag this #tessellate: extras #sims 4 story #sims 4 story tips

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tonberry-yoda · 9 months

Text

Dewdrops - Asra

notes - Asra brainrot bad dudes. He is so fine and I have been wanting to kiss him all week, so here's a lil fic lol. I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!! <33 @thearcanagame yall should hire me to write arcana stories haha jkjk... unless tee hee word count - 538 ~~BUY ME A KO-FI (COMMISIONS ARE OPEN)~~

You woke up delirious, blinking rapidly to get the bright sun out of your eyes. The air felt different than usual. Humid. Cold.

You felt that you were somewhere familiar, but there was also something strange about it.

A dream. Yeah, that was the best way to describe it.

You still couldn't see, so you tried to sit up and block your eyes from the brightness above you. When you sat up, you felt something fall from you, like a weight. But it sounded like you were under water.

What was going on?

You were finally able to see a little bit better after a couple more blinks and saw that you were definitely somewhere dream like. And you looked like you were just lying in a pond.

You tilted you head and tried to stand up, but your legs were much to weak for that.

The water you were in, you noticed, changed from shades of purple to blue and even looked like there was glitter swirling at the bottom.

But what shocked you the most is when you turned next to you to find Asra fast asleep in the pond. There were dewdrops in his hair and falling from his lips.

How the heck did you two end up here?

"Asra." You tried lightly shaking him to wake him up, but nothing. "Asra! Hey, wake up!"

You watched his white eyelashes flutter open until they shut again, probably from the brightness of the sun, if that even was the sun.

You blocked it nonetheless and cupped Asra's face, wiping the water away from the corners of his eyes. "Asra."

His eyes finally opened and he smiled when he saw you. As he sat up - holding you in his lap - water dripped from his clothes and his body.

There was a dewdrop on his lip that looked rather kissable...

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eye.

"No clue. I thought you would've known, almighty Master Asra."

"Ew," he giggled. "Don't call me that. Just... let me get my bearings. I should be able to tell."

You got off of his lap and tucked his wet hair behind his ear while he looked around.

You both knew where you were. A sprit realm of some kind. But how you got there was beyond you.

"A spell..." Asra slowly began to remember. "Hm. Must've hit us hard."

"You don't think it was me, do you?" you asked frantically.

"No, I don't think so. And even if it was, I guess fate was telling us we needed a nap. Either way," he stood up and stretched, reaching his hand out to yours. "We'll figure it out along the way. Let's get going, yeah?"

You nodded and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your legs were still weak, but with Asra's help, you would be fine.

"You have water on your lips." you told him cheekily.

"Oh? Than why not help get it off." he smirked.

You pressed your lips to his, licking of the water lightly. He held you by the waist and pressed his chest to yours smiling in the kiss.

He didn't have the heart to tell you that you messed up a spell.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#writing #my writing #jesus he's so hot #help #i love this game #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #the arcana #arcana #the arcana x reader #arcana x reader #asra #asra x reader #asra alnazar #asra alnazar x reader #<3

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sheepgirlmaidtummy · 2 months

Note

fucking thank you for mentioning that black and brown and indigenous bloggers (esp trans women) on this website have been nuked since 2016 and nobody gave a shit. this website has been racist and transmisogynistic for years and 99% of the ""community"" on here didn't give a fuck until now.

an indigenous child is dead. transfem bloggers are harassed. nobody cares about that. the white trans community on this site cares about funny jokes and infighting instead of protecting us. avery deserves better. nex deserved better. children are being murdered and people have decided to strip every ounce of racial and transmisogynistic intent from the current wave of violence in favor of jokes.

when do we get to be a part of our own communities? when do we get the support and protection and righteous anger from other trans people? im so fucking tired.

honestly? ive been talking about this stuff for years, and the only reason it got attention is because of what happened to rita being so public, those posts never got the attention they should've and that doesnt surprise me in the slightest.

we arent a part of this "community", we wouldnt be trampled on and forgotten if we were actually important. and whenever we make our own spaces they take that over too. it doesnt matter what happens to us in the process. i hate the performative bullshit i hate the jokes i hate the ignorance i hate that theres nothing left for us.

the only times we're fucking noticed is when somebody murders us and EVEN THEN thats giving too much credit. white people get to joke about this shit while we have to live every day accepting that we'll be left behind. with no way of finding others like us to even feel just a smidgen of comfort. you look at the tag for black trans women before this photomatt bs and theres nothing but our murders. you cant even find shit about all the poc getting banned from this site because nobody cared to document anything let alone Help us.

im really fucking tired of seeing the 'support black trans women!' posts around here. you dont support us when we look you in the eye and Beg. when i got kicked out last year and made a post about it NOBODY batted an eye until rita and afew other popular white transfems reblogged it. and im the lucky one. people would rather be upset at the hammer car than us dying in the streets. i dont even know how to type this all out, just thinking about this makes me furious. i spent the early years of my transition hearing nothing but black trans girls getting murdered in their cars for $100. thats how worth our lives are in this "community". we cant even get that much in donations.

im tired too hun, im really fucking tired

#transgender #predstrogen #transmisogyny #transmisogynoir #trans #i feel like im gonna fucking puke lol i hate how fake you people are #for the people that actually care. that story about a black trans woman being murdered in her car is Real.#she was 17yrs old. i saw that story when i was 16. ive seen more like it before that and since #i cant even find her name because trying to look it up only pulls up more murders. one 2hrs away from me too! awesome!

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 4 months

Text

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

#morpheus x reader #fic: persephone's devotee #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x oc #fic: hello mr. monster

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16-jarrah · 3 months

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mentioning LOST's church ending got me riled up about the racism in LOST again lol. i obviously am aware that some actors just did not return to production for possibly other reasons, but also especially in the case of harrold perrineau (michael dawson) he felt like his character (and walt, his son) was treated like shit by the writing. and he was absolutely right. i've already made posts about this (will try to dig them up later), but michael was treated absolutely bullshit and unfairly wrt the story. michael betrayed them and killed two people, yes, but what did he do it for but to protect his son? he felt like nobody gave enough fucks about walt and there was some truth to that claim. his whole character arc is about being a dad to walt and their improving relationship over the course of being stuck on the island, so of course he would do that. it just makes sense.

which is why i don't think it's all that fair to punish him for it immensely in the narrative. harrold perrineau said it himself that he didn't want michael and walt to be another case of the absent black father stereotype [citation needed, i'll look for it but he said it in an interview] yet that's what he ended up being anyway. after his and walt's escape from the island, apparently walt cast him away because he doesn't agree with what his father did—which i actually think its interesting to explore: walt disagreeing with michael's actions and trying to grapple with it, but i don't think separating him from his dad was the best writing choice to make. walt is being punished for caring about his son by making his son be the one to cast him away. you can argue it's supposed to be tragic, michael is supposed to be a tragic character, but with the context surrounding michael's character? there's better ways to make his character be tragic than this.

which brings me to his next punishment. i was happy to see michael again on the kahana (just happy to see him in general), but it didn't last long when he gets killed, sacrificing himself to prevent/prolong the kahana's explosion from happening. (put a 📌 on this bc it's similar to how sayid dies and we'll come back to that later.) michael dies here and walt doesn't know about this. and then michael joins as part of the whispers, his soul trapped on the island (presumably forever) and that's why he's not in the church ending.

i'm gonna be frank. michael being trapped on the island because of his guilt or remorse or perhaps repenting for his sins is just bullshit to me. a lot of characters seen in the flash sideways and in the church ending are characters who've done "bad things". it's bullshit to have michael be the only one doomed to pay for his misdeeds forever. his misdeeds for... killing two people. not that killing two people is Nothing, but moreso if you examine the circumstances it's hardly anything to be damned eternally for.

remember the 📌 we had wrt sayid and michael? both of them died trying to prevent an explosion from reaching everybody else. which makes this more egregious imo. i can say 1000 things about sayid's arc (points to url), but this is about michael and not him, so i'll just focus on this: sayid was grappling with "being a bad person" for torturing and killing so many people. he worked as an assassin for ben. and yet, somehow, you're telling me sayid is not being damned eternally for his misdeeds but michael is? if you don't see the BS in that i don't know what to tell you.

i'm also aware why some characters don't appear any more re:conflicts with their actors (or just availabilities or other reasons for declining to come back), but even then arguably any conflicts with harrold perrineau stemmed from a justified place because of how michael was treated.

i think mr eko had a more dignified arc (he's one of my fav characters, thematically speaking) and honestly he had some of the rawest shit i've ever heard:

I ask for no forgiveness father for I have not sinned, I have only done what I needed to do to survive. A small boy once asked me if I was a bad man, if I could answer him now I would tell him, that when I was a young boy I killed a man to save my brothers life. I am not sorry for this, I am proud of this. I did not ask for the life that I was given but it was given none the less, and with it I did my best.

but despite this it doesn't change the fact that his absence in the church ending is very noticeable. he had meaningful connections with charlie, with locke, and interestingly like michael he kind of parallels sayid but this time thematically through their arcs. sayid is constantly burdened with feeling like he's a bad person and resigning to it as some sort of self-fulfilled prophecy, but mr eko is very firm about how he sees himself as not necessarily a bad man, just a man whose hands were forced because of the cards he was dealt. i wish we could have seen a more direct parallel between them, because it would've been interesting. back to the main point: i think it's such a missed opportunity for mr eko to not be here. especially since even after his death, hurley was able to communicate with his ghost, showing that he still had connections with his fellow losties even long after his death.

ana lucia being "not ready to move on" is interesting. but ultimately you can't help but raise a few eyebrows at it anyway. you can argue that, unlike mr eko she died an unresolved death, but most of the LOST characters died with an unresolved death. (she was killed early.) that's the whole point of the sideways segments. so what makes ana lucia so different from the others? yeah she killed shannon, but that was completely a freak accident. her people (the tailies) were being picked off one by one by the other so she was understandably on edge. she was kind of a hated character but i think a lot of it is just racism and misogyny combined tbh. (LOST is...notorious for a lot of misogynistic character writing decisions.) ana lucia was just as complex and morally "ambiguous" as the rest of them. i find the decision to make her corrupt in the sideways segments interesting (negative). cz like, there was never any indication she was like this in real life. what does that corruption symbolize? because obviously that corruption is a key to why she "can't move on yet". what exactly is she supposed to be repenting for? they hinted at a possible direction her arc is going towards before killing her off, ie. her ultimately choosing not to kill "henry gale" because she no longer wants blood on her hands. again, in a way, she's just like sayid! someone who decided they'd turn away from ceaseless violence. only right afterwards she got killed. so what does she need repenting for so much that she's left out of the church ending? much to think about.

i don't really know how to conclude this post. but my main point is that the lack of these characters during the church ending is and has racist implications. (again, i understand the casting issues, but it's still a writing decision you can critique as a viewer at the end of the day). i'll try to find the old posts i made last year abt michael and mr eko and their parallels to sayid and link them here (and self reblog).

edit: go read/look up "burn it down". it details a lot of the behind the scenes mistreatment of the staff (including racism and sexism), including actors and writers. the quote from an interview from harold perrineau that i mentioned was also linked in a reblog. (post link)

#op #lost #lost abc #abc lost #lost 2004 #<- have we agreed on a main tag yet #michael dawson #mr. eko #ana lucia cortez #meta #analysis #media analysis #church ending #//#lostposting #<- my tag for LOST rambles on this blog

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