#fucked up abt these two eternally

[meetthefatess]

do I have a folder of stupid dramatic pose refs for when I want to draw calamity characters? no ofc not, that’d be weird

#rewatch calamity marathon me & who? #fucked up abt these two eternally #digital art #sketches #exu calamity #critical role #critical role fanart #exu: calamity #exu: c #critical role art #critical role spoilers #exandria unlimited calamity #exandria unlimited #loquaerryn #faerie fire #divorseelies #loquatius seelie #laerryn coramar seelie

[arolesbianism]

hello gamers minor life update I have been doing Real bad lately so I will likely continue to be very inactive, but hey on the bright side I have been fleshing out some eternal gales lore I reworked a while back and I can happily say that Dodie no longer completely contradicts the very nature of reality in eternal gales and the fog tower™ officially has a real reason to exist again so hell yeah to that

#rat rambles #eternal gales #oc posting #this is a piece of lore I technically updated a while ago but I mostly just relocated dodie home to a different piece of worldbuilding #but now Im fleshing things out a bit more and Im so glad that I set myself up such an easy way to jump ship on the old stuff #it also makes my life easier because it means that I have an actual reason for mase to be the first person dodie encounters in person #also an actual reason to trap him at first sorry dude it adds to the suspense #longggggg story short dodie lives in the universe's core of sorts #its where all the other characters are transported to at the beginning of the story due to other stuff #I already had it as a thing that the core attempts to replicate the casts home and food and such to help maintain them #but the fog tower™ had its core echo in place since forever basically #mostly because the narrator wanted to get dodie a home set up in the core instead of having to find a way to house her in notmal society #now the tower wasnt exactly meant to be found but it still had to be real enough to actually get echoed so it was real enough to be found #hense why mase's family lives in the lower half of it #the top half is fully reserved for setting up stuff to be echoed to dodie's tower #this is mostly handled my cup aka dodie's long distance mom figure #but most of that stuff was done before dodie was properly created and as such cup had to fight for their life to figure out how to best get #this child growing up in fucked up situations as happy and stable as they could with limited budget and time #they were also dealing with doing a lot of this behind the backs of mase's parents as the two wanted them to provide just the bare basics #despite this cup managed to sneak in a shit ton more video tapes than they were supposed to and attempted to cover as much as possible #ofc dodie still ended up incredibly unstable and fucked up anways but she still loves her long distance video mom dearly #up til she was like 12 or so those tapes were the only way she could see and hear another person #but yeah in the echoed version the lower half of the tower is mostly consumed by plantlife and the such #hense why dodie avoids the area like the plague she has hashtag issues regarding plants #oh yeah Ive also been thinking abt fydd a lot lately #I have been slowly developing a bit of a side plot for him in my head that Im not 100% sure Im going to commit to but Im mivrowaving it #basically I was thinking abt each of the human casts sort of quote unquote domains are #by that I mean the whole reason they get drawn to the universe core is because theyre all sorta connected to universe functions #fydd is one of the weird ones because his place in the system is the basic software ig would be the best way to put it? #hes connected to the very base of the system that the rest of the functions are built into

[chisatowo]

Thinks oh so hard abt stalien biology, but also thinks oh so hard abt how fucked up the rest of the planets life must be like considering for good chunk of history these stupid bastard were always just spawning everywhere that there was underground chambers, which is a lot of the planet dktjfjrh. This includes places that they kinda suck at living in, like if ur a stalien born in caverns that are hot humid ur so fucked bro ur gonna get targeted by every parasite in a 50 mile premise

#rat rambles #oc posting #eternal gales #I do think its funny that theres a society of staliens I have that partially live in a surface desert #like imagine being a preditor and watching some lanky fucker come out of a hole and immediately falling over and being unable to get up #staliens are. not built for softer walking surfaces dgsjdgjd #that society is fun to think abt because both the cavern and surface enviorment are pratically built to kill them but they just stay anyway #they tend to alternate between their surface and cavern settlements between seasons #during the dryer seasons when its too hot to survive on the surface they stay in the caverns #and during the wet and shady seasons they stay on the surface to avoid the deadly paracites and planlife in the caverns during those times #although not all staliens there alternate some just deal with one of the enviorments year round #this is actually pretty important though for managing abandoned towns and egg collection #usually its not super important to keep like constant surveilance on everything in settlements but making routine checkups on buildings is #mainly because both super dry and super humid climates can fuck up a building if left unatended #this has the interesting side effect that buildings are constantly in near top condition and are very frequently renavated to keep up to #date with the most recent architect developmemts and discoveries #generally architecs are a very very prestigious and well respected job there #and despite most living on one local full time there are also ones that travel between the two for the sake of maintaining a shared #knowledge pool and helping provide support to whichever settlement actually has ppl living in it at the moment #for similar reasons I imagine that writing is a much more commonly learnt and applied skill in this society throughout its history #since theres a lot more back and forth in local and physical seperation of the population #if they have some form of local internet too I imagine that it got deeply embeded in the culture almost immeduately #in fact I definitely think they probably developed local internet WAY sooner than the one featured in eternal gales thanks to this #anyways this has been ur anual keese rambles to itself abt random worldbuilding shit session hope yall have a good night #honestly surprused I didnt reavh the tag limit on this one

[mo0nfairy]

Any chance of some nsfw with guard puppy leon pls? 👉👈 I love the way u write him sm😩😳

tw :: nsfw themes (mdni!!), re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, sub!leon, masochism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, leon being infected for like 2 seconds, (also no specification of reader's gender/genitalia).

⸺ ya'll.................. you can't drop shit like this in my inbox and not expect me to go feral. (i am also legally obligated to use this gif cause how can i resist).

let's say it's right after the events of re4. you and leon had spent an eternity dodging every kind of abomination known to mankind before you finally made it to safety. the government then took you in to study the effects the plaga parasite had on humans. however, leon was infected while you weren't, meaning the two of you would have to be temporarily separated. and fuck, being away from you kills leon with need. he just has to get his hands on you. and when his head gets fogged up with all sorts of disastrous scenarios (all involving you hurting in some shape or form), leon busts open the lock to his room and sets out on finding you. practically tearing the place asunder in his efforts, he finally locates you in a completely separate wing.

how fucking dare they take you so far from him? what if something happened? what if he can't be there to protect you-!?

his train of thought is abruptly cut off when he enters the room and finds you, entirely naked. there are several doctors around you, poking and prodding at you like a lab rat. leon literally just !!!!!!!!! at the sight, but is also >:( because of all these people putting their filthy hands on you. he is enraged at the people for touching you, but he also can't tame his heart after seeing your bare skin. he leaves to his room with his tail between his legs and his face adorned in red blotches. and poor leon hasn't been granted a single second alone to relieve himself, not with all these scientists and security guards surrounding him 24/7. (he got a little aggressive with staff when he had to seperate from you).

and being unable to relieve himself before he can see you and drown you in his obsession is destroying him. especially when he learns you've been moved to a safehouse all the way across the country, all while he has to stay in this hospital without you. he isn’t sleeping, he lost his appetite, and his body temperature has increased to a worrisome degree. the doctors even put down ‘hypersexual’ as one of his symptoms. and just a week later, leon is still distraught, but is all healed up. his mood brightens, however, when he learns he is being sent to the same undisclosed location. finally, he gets to be alone with you. and god, he is desperate.

practically tearing the front door off its hinges, leon searches for you through the house like a goddamn serial killer. and when he finds you, he goes feral. you don't have a second to even acknowledge the second presence in the house before he is all over you. one second you're minding your business and the next you're practically being smothered to death. on the counter, on the bed, hell, on the floor, leon doesn't give a shit where. as long as he’s able to ensure no inch on your body goes untouched.

leon tears your clothes off like a predator tearing apart the flesh of its prey. his calloused hands touch everywhere he can with almost religious fervor. good god, has leon ached for this. he's constantly losing air from latching his mouth all over you. he'll pull back a good centimeter, wait maybe a picosecond to catch his breath, before indulging in you again. and sidenote, he's a virgin (fight me abt it). sweet, innocent leon is so inexperienced but tries so. fucking. hard. all you have to do is sit back and guide him. every syllable out of your mouth is gospel to him, after all.

while his tongue is practically shoved down your throat, you bite down on the squirming muscle and it's just....…. instant subspace. his eyebrows scrunch upwards and he's moaning like a bitch into your mouth. his entire life, leon has endured so much pain, (especially right after the events of re4). but to hurt at your hand, knowing he is still safe with you? it is like heaven and hell in the same breath. so please, hurt him, bite him, rip out his fucking throat with your teeth if you want- just fucking do anything to him!

and leon is so distracted by you, he doesn't even realize how devastating he looks. his cheeks are as red as two ripe cherries; his eyes are wet with infatuation, brimming with tears. and downstairs, the vulgar sight displays a good 8 inches erect, on the skinny side with veins protruding the straight, pink shaft. his tip flushes an angry red and is overwhelmed with precum. you gently take it into your hand and caress the white-pearl with your thumb. and leon's voice literally raises several octaves in such an obscene manner, you wonder how he'll react when he's finally inside of you. but for now, your mere hands on him has turned him into a completely different person.

you guide his bloated head to your entrance and rub it into the surrounding skin, now slick with your spit and his precum. leon's entire body is shaking; his chest is flat from holding his breath in anticipation. 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-' his chants huff against your face while his gaze is casted downwards, trembling from the sight alone. you could keep him here if you wanted, torture him even more. mock his whining while his swollen head is practically begging you to let him in and end this agony. but, he's just too damn cute. so, you give your poor puppy what he so desperately wants and push him into your soaked hole with ease. and the cry leon lets out is nothing short of pornographic.

"y-y/n/n-! oh, jesus, sh-shit-... uhn-!" his forehead is pressed against yours as he moans out for you.

when leon finally bottoms out inside, you let your spongy, sopping walls adjust to the length of his dick and try to calm him down (to no avail, unfortunately). he's too caught up in tripping over his words, attempting to verbalize the adrenaline coursing through him from just how amazing you feel and how soul-crushingly good it will be when he finishes. leon hasn't even started moving yet and he's already overwhelmingly drunk on pleasure.

you then push down on his lower back, giving him permission to begin moving. and the man leon becomes is that of a creature possessed. there is not a single moment spent being gentle, he is rutting into your thick heat like his life depends on it. he buries his face into your neck and everything just becomes so messy. your hot, hyperventilating breaths paint the air and your bodies are sheen with sweat as they stick together. his hands are locked around you like a lifeline, clinging so tightly to you as if he were hanging from a cliffside and you were his saving grace. (this is him basically). with his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, his jaw hung low with uncontrollable moans — god, you make him so fucking stupid.

'hmy- my fuckin’ god- y/n/n, i-... 'm-your- your stupid mutt, your dumb puppy... fuck, s’fuckin’ good, s’fuckin' perfect." you're not even exactly sure what leon is saying, with his voice muffled against your neck. but, when his voice is so whiny and slurred like that, you can only imagine how adorably pathetic the words that follow are.

drool seeps down his chin and pools in the nape of your shoulder. his mouth is all over your neck like a vampire, lazily kissing and marking your skin. with how overwhelmingly intense the euphoria is, he knows that one glance at your godly face and body will send him over the edge. so, he keeps his face nestled away. fortunately for him, however, you're not far behind from finishing. every vigorous thrust of his plunges deep into you, causing your body to jolt forward from the sheer force.

you grasp hold of leon's hand, causing his heart to practically explode in his chest, before guiding him on how to stimulate you. his hands rub against your sex with fervent, clumsy haste. and before you can even blink, your orgasm hits you like a wave. it is unexpected and unbelievably intense. every sound from your mouth causes leon’s dick to twitch inside of you, pushing him closer and closer to that earth-shattering finish. he is now full-on crying, his lewd sobs and pleads reverberating from the grip your body has on him. in the cusp of your high, you grab a fistful of leon's blonde hair and pull his head back.

you growl in his ear, "you're my bitch in heat."

and with that, leon gushes inside of you. a deafening wail permeates the room as he sporadically thrusts his hips against yours with bruising force. he practically bleats like a sheep as he cums and anyone lurking outside would probably think you were murdering him. leon fills you to the brim with his seed, the excess escaping past your entrance and staining the surface beneath. his vision goes white, his body shivers with rapture, and his mind is devoid of any thoughts beside you, you, you. the act of intimacy, to revel in your pleasure — oh, it is heaven. leon knew it was gonna be good, but never this fucking good.

every muscle in his body then goes limp against you. quiet whimpers pervade the air as he presses sloppy, soft kisses against your lips. chants of 'i love you, i love you so fucking much' escape his breathless mouth. and the look in his honeyed gaze... he is just so fucking happy to be back with the only person he could ever love, the only person he could ever need. it's clear as day, leon couldn't be more in love with you. but, when you try and push him away for some room to breathe, his hold on you turns tenacious and you can feel how he is still rock-hard inside of you.

you realize that not only are you in for a long night, but you are in for a long, long life beside leon.

okay..... this is my first time writing smut. like ever. if it's shit, pls don't be afraid to send some critique my way!! thank u !

#i have no idea wtf im doing #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #yandere smut #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: misc. edition

— miscellaneous :P probably pt.1 bc this is so fun to dooooo

— no romantic pairings, just the strawhats being cutie friends, male reader!!!

ー idk if the formatting is weird on desktop bc i did this all on my mobile 😭😭😭

liked by freeluffy, roro.zoro, and 8.6k others

-> ._.[name]: luffy is recycling, recycling is good for the enviornment!!! be like luffy <3

tagged: freeluffy

dni_nami: who on earth would want to be like that idiot ???

-> roro.zoro: no bc shes right

-> ._.[name]: you guys r so mean 😭😭

dr.law: im surprised there arent more bottles, u guys had the whole block awake....

-> freeluffy: we had to make five trips :DDD

-> ttchopper: FIVE TRIPS?????

-> dr.law: and when your guys' livers fail ill b there to laugh

-> ._.[name]: actin like u werent sneakin in shots of vodka :/// alright buddyyyyy

-> uso_pp: LMFOAOAO

-> SUPERCOLA: u jus got exposed

liked by ._.[name], dni_nami, and 4.6k others

uso_pp: im beggin yall to stop getting into drinking contests w zoro and nami

tagged: ._.[name]

._.[name]: naw trust next time i got em

-> uso_pp: didnt u say ts last time???

-> dni_nami: the fact he keeps thinking hes gonna win is crazy

-> ._.[name]: imma win back all my money

-> uso_pp: AND YOU BET MONEY??? ur gonna b in eternal debt [name]

princesanji: my beautiful nami is always coming out on top 😻😻😻

-> ._.[name]: who r u ???

-> princesanji: i dont interact w losers

-> dni_nami: sanji, ur the reason my username is what it is please do not test me rn

[liked by ._.[name], robinkills, and 80 others]

liked by ._.[name] and 7.3k others

robinkills: nami and i showing sanji and [name] who exactly they gotta jump

tagged: dni_name, ._.[name], princesanji

dni_nami: skank ass bitches invading a party that our friend is throwing jus to talk shit is crazy

-> ._.[name]: glad we took em outside 😋

-> princesanji: ILL FIGHT TO PROTECT YOUR REPUTATION MY QUEENS NAMI AND ROBIN - NO ONE WILL EVER DEFAME YOUR NAME IN FRONT OF ME EVER AGAIN

-> ._.[name]: one time ill agree w sanji on smth

freeluffy: no fair i wanted to come :(((

-> dni_nami: the pouting at not being involved in a fight is crazy

-> boahancock: my beautiful boy luffy i have many people you can have the pleasure of taking care of 🥰🥰🥰

uso_pp: their stupid ass bfs thinkin they stood a chance against sanji AND [name] was hilarious nglll

-> robinkills: it was over before it even started

[liked by dni_nami, princesanji, ._.[name] and 40 others]

liked by freeluffy, portgasdace, and 4.1k others

princesanji: someone donate this brokeass some money so he can buy his own packs

tagged: ._.[name]

._.[name]: HOW MANY OF MY LIGHTERS HAVE YOU STOLEN??? this is compensation

-> princesanji: stop lying i didnt steal shit from u

-> ._.[name]: I SAW MY ZIPPO ON YOUR NIGHTSTAND U FUCKING LIARR

ttchopper: smoking isnt good for u [name] :((

-> ._.[name]: suddenly i no longer like cigarettes

-> ttchopper: :DDD

-> roro.zoro: walked like a dog.

-> ._.[name]: ur just mad cuz chopper actually likes me

-> roro.zoro: im gonna kill u

-> dni_nami: chopper doesnt like either of u pls stfu

liked by robinkills, roro.zoro, dr.law and 13k others

._.[name]: my hearts <333

tagged: portgasace, freeluffy

portgasace: YALL SEE THIS im [name]'s favorite u wish u were me

-> freeluffy: i think [name] likes me the most, sorry ace!!!

-> portgasace: im beggin u to shut the fuck up

-> freeluffy: ur jus mad cus im right :DD

uso_pp: i wanna see a fight between these two over [name]

[liked by dni_nami and 50 others]

-> ._.[name]: u jus wanna see a fight mf shut up 😭😭😭

liked by dr.law, freeluffy, and 7k others

._.[name]: DAMNN PAPI ZORO GIVE ME ONE SHOT PLSLSSS 🤤🤤

tagged: roro.zoro

roro.zoro: we r never going to the gym tgt ever again im sick of ur bullshit

-> ._.[name]: can u pls come home and meet my parents i told them all abt us 🥺🥺

-> roro.zoro: i hope u die in a fire

uso_pp: unexpected couple of 2023 😱😱😱

[liked by ._.[name], robinkills, and 70 others]

._.[name]: he looks soo fionneneee

-> dni_nami: pls stop thirsting for zoro on ur main at least take it to the finsta [name] i cant stand this any longer

-> roro.zoro: how abt he jus stops in general???

-> ._.[name]: ur ltr in love w me stop being so obsessed in replying to my comments zoro 🙄🙄

-> roro.zoro: unlock ur apartment door im outside

-> ._.[name]: i feel unsafe.

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱ #one piece x male reader #one piece smau #one piece modern au #one piece #zoro x male reader #nami x male reader #ace x male reader #usopp x male reader #male reader #male reader smau #smau #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #x male reader

[museofthepyre]

Thinking abt Elijah and Jedidiah again, I’ve said a lot of it before, but I’m expanding here (finale spoilers btw):

I think Jeddie and Elijah were intentionally written to represent the opposing extremes of unhealthy love/ affection. It’s a symbolic parallel, they’re complete opposites in terms of attachment style… but they’re united in the fact that they’re both hurting Sydney (the subject of their feelings).

Jedidiah embodies cold, distant, withdrawn and purely behind the scenes love-

And Elijah embodies obsessive, love-bombing, all consuming and suffocating love.

Through this lens,

They both saw Sydney suffering and without consulting him (WITHOUT GIVING HIM A SAY!!!) took it upon themselves to help- but their fucked up perceptions of love lead their solutions to being… naturally… fucked up.

There’s even symbolism in the WAY they both tried to help (…had Sydney die).

Jedidiah wanted to end Sydney’s suffering. He would have Sydney die a lonely, cold, quiet death in the sterile environment of a hospital- then he’d bring him back in body, hoping that he’d return healthy again (the rose tinted memory of the old friend he loves)

Elijah wanted to end Sydney’s suffering. He would have Sydney die in a passionate roaring flame, surrounded by a crowd of feverous celebration- then he’d bring him back in spirit, hoping it’d bring him eternal peace and rest (the mirage of the deity-like figure he loves)

That is like the most blatant metaphorical representation of this whole thing imo. The mode of death represents their destructive love, and how it’s killing Sydney. Like, literally. But when it happens, they both wholeheartedly believe they’re doing this FOR Sydney, to “help” him.

AND THIS BRINGS ME TO MY OPINION ABT ELIJAHS INTENTIONS:

I’ve always interpreted Elijah as being entirely, legitimately convinced of everything he said. Like, through the lens of his own incredibly warped and distorted perception of “love”, he genuinely thought he was doing what was best for/ “helping” Sydney.

He had it in his head that he loved Sydney, none of that was a knowing lie, it was real to him— but his reality was… again, distorted.

And it’s written in a way which highlights how HORRIBLY UNHEALTHY that warped perception is. It mirrors how Jedidiah’s starkly contrasting ways are showcased as unhealthy, despite him too thinking that he was doing what was best for Sydney. Neither go excused, or sugar coated, the point being: to show how neither extreme is good.

Beyond their skewed actions,

They both wanted to resurrect a Sydney that didn’t exist. The Sydney Jedidiah wanted back had withered away,, Sydney’s sickness was more than physical, it had roots in his mind and memories. Jedidiah had left him feeling abandoned for so long that it’d take more than a simple reset to heal their rift. But he didn’t know how to do that, he didn’t know how to be close, and he was too wrapped up in his self- flagellation to actually break down the walls he’d built.

And Elijah’s version of Sydney was a total idolization. He was never self aware enough to realize he was a large contributor to Sydney’s suffering in the first place. He was too wrapped up in the thrall of his own delusions to realize how scary and confusing this all would be for Sydney. (I say delusions bc I think… they were/gen. Coming from someone who’s BPD-spawned delusions get similarly obsessive and convincing… I have a whole other tangent on this for another day)

This isn’t an Elijah apologist message btw, nor is it a Jedidiah apologist message— I just think this depth is an important part of the overall message- you can love someone and hurt them every second of it, if there’s no balance- a line between the two extremes!! I think we are seeing Jedidiah starting to find that line- he was actually listening to Sydney by the end of it all. Elijah… is still stuck in his head.

#ramblings #camp here and there #chnt #camp here & there #ch&t #sydney sargent #sydney o sargent #elijah volkov #the elephant man #pink elephant man #jedidiah a a martin #jedidiah martin

[ultrone]

any way can u write an enemies to lovers w nat (precrash) nat and r hate each other, rest of the yellowjackets are annoyed w them not getting along so they forge an intervention (stick them both in a room and force them to bond) heavy denial about liking each other

𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥 ★ 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

cw. fighting, smoking weed.

wc. 3.2k

n/a. tysm for the request, i hope u like it :) and sorry abt the delay, it took me a while to come up with the beef between them 😭

You tried to forcefully jiggle the door open, but despite your efforts, it remained stubbornly closed.

Nat let out a frustrated sigh and spoke up, "Just stop, it's not gonna work." She said, watching you from the corner of the room.

You turned to her, frowning, and sat on the floor with crossed legs, a few feet away from her.

You should’ve known this was going to happen.

“Give it back you asshole!” Nat exclaimed, annoyance evident in her voice as she reached out for your hand. It held a small bag you had taken from her just moments ago.

“Dude, we’ve got practice in an hour, get your shit together,” you retorted, withdrawing your hand and using the other to push her away.

“I just wanna have a fucking smoke,” she argued, “It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t be a moron,” she said, her anger palpable.

“What is going on with you two?” Jackie intervened, clearly annoyed and confused.

“Just the usual, Y/n’s being a fucking dick,” Nat complained.

“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes, turning to Jackie, “Jackie, could you please tell Nat to be responsible for once in her fucking life and go od after practice? Not before.” You complained to her.

"Fuck you!" Nat exclaimed, shoving you on the shoulder.

"No, fuck you!" you shot back, pushing her in return.

Before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a childish fight until Jackie and Tai intervened, separating the both of you.

"I don't know what the hell’s been going on between you two, but you need to stop. Right now." Tai said, her tone firm and assured.

"Yeah, this behaviour is starting to affect the team," Jackie added. "Everyone's noticed, even the coach. So cut it out. Consider this your final warning."

"You know what? Fuck it." Nat said, walking past Tai. She turned to face you and pointed at your chest. "And fuck you," she said, before finally leaving.

You shrugged, letting out a stressed sigh, and shook your head in disagreement as you walked out of the room behind her.

Little did you know that the whole team was plotting against you, scheming to trap you and Nat in the gym’s backroom. They played you like fools, telling each of you to grab more soccer balls. Nat fell for it first and slipped away without you even noticing. By the time you entered the room and noticed her holding two soccer balls in her arms, someone had already locked the door behind you, leaving you both stuck inside.

Time crawled by, only ten minutes passing, yet it felt like an eternity. Stranded in that room, both of you had stupidly left your phones outside. There was nothing in that cramped space to distract you except each other, and well, that wasn't even an option at this point. So, you were left alone with your own thoughts, and let me tell you, it wasn't a pleasant experience.

Your eyes kept darting around the room, desperate to avoid making eye contact with Nat. You shifted your position, uncrossing your legs and propping them up in front of you, knees bent. Without even realizing it, you began tapping your foot up and down, making the sole of your shoe smack against the floor.

"Can you stop that?" Nat snapped, clearly annoyed by your restless behavior.

You stopped your foot's movements, but you didn't bother to respond. An eye roll was all she got from you.

In an attempt to get comfortable, Nat got up and rummaged through a box filled with brand new, unworn Yellowjackets sweaters. She grabbed one, went back to her spot, and laid down on her back, using the sweater as a makeshift pillow. With one forearm covering her eyes, shielding them from the dim light, she rested her other hand on her stomach.

A few more minutes passed, in complete silence.

Wait a minute, you thought, a realization hitting you like a lightning bolt. Your hands instinctively shot towards your left pocket, and a wave of relief washed over you as you felt the familiar presence. No fucking way. Thank god. Hastily, you slipped your hand into your pocket, retrieving the small bag of weed and rolling paper that you had swiped from Nat during your argument earlier today. And as luck would have it, you always carried a lighter with you, just in case of an "emergency." You were damn well prepared.

Wasting no time, you excitedly cracked open the bag, readying your supplies with lightning speed. You skillfully rolled up a joint in a matter of seconds. Once you were finished, you placed it between your lips, holding it firmly, and with a flick of your thumb, the little flame on the lighter sprang to life. Bringing the flame close to the joint, you lit it up, shielding it with your other hand to ensure a perfect burn.

Interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound, Nat sluggishly shifted her forearm away from her eyes. As her gaze adjusted to the light, she turned to you, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She blurted out, incredulous, sitting up abruptly. "Is that my stash?" she questioned, her tone a mix of surprise and accusation.

"Indeed it is," you responded, taking a deep drag from the joint. As you exhaled a cloud of smoke, Nat continued to stare at you, her expression transitioning from disbelief to annoyance.

"What?" you asked casually, relishing in the playful taunting. "I mean, it's not like we're going to practice today, right?"

"I can't fucking believe you," she muttered, disbelief and amusement evident in her voice as she let out a chuckle.

Extending your arm, you offered her the joint, a mischievous glint in your eyes. For a moment, she hesitated, but let's face it, there was nothing else to do in that stuffy room, and she was starting to go crazy. Besides, she had been craving a smoke ever since you snatched her stash earlier, so why not indulge?

Nat stood up from her spot and made her way toward you. As she lowered herself to sit down, just a few inches away from you, she reached out and took the joint from your fingers. Inhaling deeply, she mirrored your sitting position, her arm resting on her knee as she brought the joint close to her mouth for another drag.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence, sharing the joint between you, the smoke weaving its way through the air. Eventually, Nat broke the silence.

"I didn't know you smoked," she remarked, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me," you replied cryptically.

Nat's expression turned serious, but a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Well, I do know you're an asshole," she asserted, maintaining a deadpan face.

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you matched her tone. "You think you're funny, huh?" you retorted.

"Hey, it's the truth," she said, a touch of seriousness creeping into her voice. But you brushed it off, choosing to ignore her comment for now.

"Can I ask why?" Nat inquired, breaking the silence once more.

"Why what?" you replied, feigning ignorance, though you knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Why have you been acting like this?" she pressed. "One day we were cool, and then suddenly you turned into a total dickhead."

“You're a pain in my ass too, y’know?" you retorted, feeling the need to defend yourself.

"But I am because you are," she shot back, her argument strong.

You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air. Slowly, you brought the joint to your lips once again, taking a deliberate drag before exhaling, the smoke dissipating into the room. Your eyes fixed on the wall ahead, lost in thought.

"You really don't know, do you?" you murmured, the words almost escaping as a whisper.

Nat turned to look at you, her brows furrowing and her gaze filled with confusion, searching for answers.

You couldn't help but chuckle, a nervous yet affectionate sound escaping your lips, as you deliberately avoided meeting her gaze.

“It’s stupid,” you said with a sigh, “Now that I think about it, it wasn’t even your fault.”

“What is it?” she asked, her confusion evident.

Nat and you used to be good friends. While you weren't particularly close during school hours, barely acknowledging each other as you passed in the hallways with a simple nod, you were close enough to hang out after practice pretty much every day. You both would head to the parking lot and lie down on the trunk of Nat's car. There, you would gaze at the sky as it gradually darkened, listening to music, either talking or simply revelling in the comforting silence. It sort of became your thing, a little secret that held great importance to you.

However, as time went on and your conversations deepened, you couldn't help but develop feelings for her. You would eagerly await the end of practice just to see her again, to enjoy the privacy of each other's company.

But then, you stopped showing up.

"Do you remember that day when Shauna kicked the ball so hard that it hit Van directly in the face and gave her a concussion?" you asked her.

"Yeah, of course I do," she replied with a chuckle, recalling the incident vividly. "And we had to call an ambulance and ended up leaving practice half an hour early."

You chuckled along. "Exactly. And had planned to meet at our spot, but I told you I needed to grab something from my locker. So, you said you'd wait for me there."

She nodded, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece the puzzle together. "Yeah, and then you never showed up. Not that day or any day after."

You nodded, feeling a bit guilty. "Well, I did go to my locker to get something, but that's beside the point," you began, your voice tinged with regret. "The thing is, as I walked back to the parking lot and opened the building door to step outside, I could see your car perfectly. You weren't lying on the trunk as we always did though. Instead, you were standing beside it, with your back turned to me," you explained, "And as I approached, I realized that you weren't alone."

Nat's face shifted from confusion to realization, but she remained silent, giving you space to explain.

"As I got closer, I saw the guy leaning in," you continued, furrowing your eyebrows as you recalled the memory. "And then you kissed." The words hung heavy in the air as you conveyed the pain and disappointment you had felt at that moment. "I didn't want to interrupt or cause a scene, so I turned around and walked away. Seeing you with someone else, especially after realizing my own feelings for you, was more than I could handle."

You paused, letting the weight of your words settle between you. "I didn't have the courage to confront you about it then, and I thought it would be easier to distance myself instead. But it wasn't your fault. I guess I was just angry because I wanted to be with you so badly but I couldn’t have you, so I started acting like an asshole. I'm sorry," you said, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Embarrassment weighed heavily on you.

Nat let out a frustrated sigh, running her fingers through her hair in a stressed gesture. "Damn it, Y/n," she sighed. "I had no idea," she admitted, her voice tinged with surprise and frustration. "The guy you saw me with was Kevyn," She started explaining, "As I was walking to my car, we happened to cross paths, and he said he needed to talk to me about something. We started walking together towards my car, and long story short, he confessed his feelings for me and then kissed me. I was completely caught off guard, so it took me a few seconds to react, but I pushed him away. I guess you didn't see that part," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I rejected him right away, Y/n. I told him that I had feelings for someone else, and he apologized for kissing me like that and left."

You listened, your heart sinking with every word she spoke. The truth unfolded before you, and you realized how mistaken you had been.

"I waited for you," Nat continued, her voice laced with a touch of sadness. "I waited for an hour, then two, but you never showed up. I thought something might have happened, but you didn't respond to any of my texts, and I got worried." She paused, her expression reflecting the hurt she had felt. "The next day, I saw you at practice, and I felt relieved, thinking everything was okay. But you wouldn't even look at me. And then, you didn't show up at our spot either."

She took a deep breath. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore or something, I don’t know. I got really upset and wanted to talk to you about it, but then you started acting like an asshole. So, I got mad and started acting like that as well. But I never understood why. I guess I just went along with it."

Nat's voice softened, revealing the depth of her emotions. "I started hating you so much because you were the only person I could truly be myself with. I loved you, Y/n, and then you just left without an explanation."

As she poured her heart out, you finally looked up, meeting her gaze. The raw emotions in her eyes mirrored your own.

Tears welled up in your eyes, "I'm so sorry, Nat," you whispered, "I misunderstood everything, I’m so dumb,” A single tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek.

Nat's expression softened further, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's alright, Y/n," she reassured you, her voice gentle and soothing. "I had no idea that you saw me with Kevyn, and I never meant to hurt you." With a gentle touch, she used her thumb to wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

"I missed you so much," you confessed, your gaze locked with hers.

A small, affectionate smile graced Nat's lips. "I missed you too, you dumbass," she replied, the gentle teasing highlighting the warmth in her voice.

You extended your arms and pulled her into a tight hug. She reciprocated it, her arms wrapping around you, and her fingers caressed your hair soothingly.

The two of you remained locked in the embrace for a moment, finding solace and comfort in each other's arms. However, the sound of someone fumbling with the lock on the door shattered the tranquility, jolting both of you back to reality. Instinctively, you pulled away from each other, your hearts racing.

"Shit! The stash!" Nat exclaimed in a whisper, a sudden realization dawning upon her. She swiftly moved and positioned herself on top of it, acting on reflex to conceal it from view.

Just as you both scrambled to compose yourselves, the door swung open, revealing Misty standing in the doorway.

As she stepped into the room, she started rambling, divulging how she had overheard a conversation between Tai, Jackie, and Van, who planned to lock the both of you up in the gym's backroom. Misty, in her usual saviour complex fashion, sprung into action, determined to rescue you from such a predicament. She told you to make your exit discreetly through the back, ensuring that the girls wouldn't catch sight of you leaving. Grateful for her intervention, you and Nat thanked her.

However, Misty seemed to be in a talkative mood, wanting to continue the conversation, until Nat, with her characteristic straightforwardness, couldn't help but say, “Okay, Misty, we get it.” She said, her tone laced with annoyance. “Thanks again for your help. See you later.”

Understanding the hint, Misty finally caught on and nodded, her enthusiasm momentarily dampened. "Sure thing," she replied, slightly deflated. "Take care, you two. See you around."

With that, Misty left the room, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"You're so rude to her," you playfully remarked, nudging Nat with your elbow and letting out a light chuckle as the both of you stood up, ready to leave the room.

Nat shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Can't help it," she replied, reaching down to grab her stash and rising to her feet. Then, she turned to you, her gaze softening. "Hey," she called, her voice tinged with shyness. "Would you want to come with me? Like, to the trunk. You know, to catch up and stuff."

A smile spread across your face, accompanied by a gentle blush. "That'd be awesome," you responded, excitement lacing your voice. "But before we head there, can you come to my locker with me?"

"Of course I will," Nat agreed, her tone filled with assurance. "Wouldn't want you slipping away again, not on my watch," she added jokingly.

You chuckled sarcastically, unable to resist teasing her in return. "Ha, you know what should be on your watch though? That big-ass green stain on your butt." A mischievous smirk adorned your face.

Nat's eyes widened, and she quickly spun around to inspect her shorts, discovering the noticeable stain caused by sitting on top of the stash. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, she hastily patted her shorts, trying to remove the stain as best as she could. "Shut up," she mumbled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Let's go," she said, taking the lead and walking out of the room. You followed closely behind her, a content smile playing on your lips.

As you both stood by your locker, Nat stood beside you, watching curiously as you opened the lock. With a few swift movements, you arranged some items and retrieved a small box that had been carefully hidden in the back.

You retrieved the box and handed it to Nat, who looked at you with confusion and intrigue. "What's this?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she opened it.

"This is what I was getting from my locker that day," you revealed, "About a week before that, I remember we were listening to the radio together, and 'Black Star' by Radiohead started playing. You mentioned how much you loved that song. So, when I got home, I decided to make you a mixtape with songs I like that have a similar vibe."

You watched as Nat's eyes widened, the realization dawning upon her. "You made me a mixtape?" she asked surprised, her fingers brushing against the cassette tape inside.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yes, I did. But, obviously, I didn't give it to you back then because of everything that happened," you continued, "But I've held onto it all this time, just in case."

Her gaze met yours, and you could see the fondness reflected in her eyes. "This is so dope," she exclaimed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Y/n."

Another smile spread across your face at her words. "You're welcome," you replied. "Now, let's go to your car so we can listen to it together." Without hesitation, you gently took her hand, intertwining your fingers, and led the way toward the exit, making your way to her trunk.

#nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio fanfic #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x y/n #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio oneshot #nat scatorccio fic #yellowjackets nat scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfics #yellowjackets oneshot #young nat scatorccio #young natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio fic #natalie scatorccio fanfic #natalie scatorccio oneshot

[a-little-lostecho]

Currently thinking abt Jingliu’s story quest, spoiler’s ahead beware —

I’m thinking about how much of an impact Jingliu’s torture had on Blade and how fucking devastated Jingliu must’ve been to go through with it. I’m thinking about how Yingxing must’ve still been reeling from the new effects of the abundance and his possible regret and grief for ending up as the very thing he hated and swore to fight against—

I’m thinking about the way Jingliu must have chased him down after hearing or- or seeing and experiencing them attempt that resurrection and feeling utterly betrayed by two of her closest friends— two people who were supposed to be Baiheng’s closest friends— (How could they do that, how could they do that, how could they do that?!) —and swinging her sword, the Shard Sword (the one he made— the one he gave to her), at him mindlessly and hurt, with the intent to make Yingxing feel the same way.

I’m thinking about how Yingxing must’ve first felt when he died — the first taste of nothingness to cleanse him of the utter agony of devastation and grief, and then the horrible feeling of everything when he was resurrected again. I think about the way Yingxing, so open and honest, feeling so deeply, must’ve ley out a sob when his chest began to heave again. I think about the way Jingliu must’ve watched with tears of frustration and agony shining in her own eyes. (You did this to yourself. I failed by not stopping you but you and Yinyue-jun were the ones who disgraced her memory first — you have no right to cry like that!)

I think about the way Jingliu must’ve made a conscious effort to destroy his hands— his pride and joy, the ones that made the Shard Sword she turned against its creator. I imagine her throwing it on the ground after the first— or one of the first few of his many deaths, telling him to “Rise” and “Stand” to face her, forcing him to fight over and over again living over a hundred deaths as punishment for what he did.

I think about the way ‘Yingxing’ must’ve slowly died in this process of hours or days of endless torture and punishment with his heart as an artist splayed out and destroyed, flesh bared and heart unbeating as the artist in his mind marvels at the beauty and fantastical agony that became his existence until he no longer thinks; mind rewritten with Jingliu’s preachings of “The three who must pay the price.” and her merciless sword techniques and lessons. I think of how Yingxing, the existence that he was, had truly been killed and warped in all the suffering Jingliu imparted on him — and I wonder how they could ever mend that bridge again.

I think about Jingliu stopping only after the hundredth death as now Blade stands on steady feet with muscle memory from the past nth deaths until Jingliu turns her back with her final lesson and parting words; satisfied, but not fulfilled, by the way she’s carved her presence and regrets into Blade’s mind and body irreversibly. I think about the way she spared ‘mercy’ to him by leaving him astray and to escape the Xianzhou and Luofu. I think about the effort it must’ve taken Blade to chose aimless wandering over eternal sentence… or maybe that too had been Jingliu’s choice.

I think about Jingliu, walking away with nothing but white noise and mara screams, echos of the past, filling her mind until her body gives out from restless days of fighting Blade, forcing onto him the punishment she so strongly believed he deserved — because she couldn’t rest until the lesson had finally set in, what kind of teacher would she have been if she had? I’m thinking about the way her body collapses to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings with no one to catch her and no one to see her at her weakest as she mourns for everything they once had but can never have again because of what they did. Because of what all of them have become.

And finally, I think about the reports that must eventually reach Jing Yuan at the divine seat of foresight. I think about the way he must feel; knowing one of his friends is irreversibly dead and the other three have torn each other apart in that grief. I think about how destroyed he must be, choosing between his duty and his lovers— but finding all too much fault in the choices they made and the suffering they have caused. I think about the decisions he would have to make and the punishment he’d have to invoke on Dan Feng becoming Dan Heng in spite of his emotions, because he is the last one left. And if no one else can remain on the Luofu then he must be the one to carry their memories.

I think that the High Cloud Quintet are irreversibly scarred by themselves and by each other, and I wonder how they’ll ever be able to mend things.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr rambles #honkai star rail fanfic #jingliu #jing liu #hsr jingliu #hsr jing yuan #hsr blade #hsr ren #hsr dan heng #high cloud quintet #xianzhou luofu #jingheng #jingren #jingrenheng #implied renheng #lost rambles #rambles #hsr spoilers

[thedrarrylibrarian]

hi!! I first off wanted to say THANK YOUU!! I came across your page abt two months ago when I needed new fics and I use your recs so often!! I was wondering, what are a few of your all-time favorite fics, if you had to choose? (:

Oh my goodness! I'm so glad to hear that you've been enjoying my blog! I can't believe I've been running this blog for 3 years today!

What a fun ask (I've been sitting on this so I could use it for today!) I really struggled to pick fics - or more accurately, not to pick ALL the fics! I picked fics that are my go to rereads - whether it's because they make me laugh or because they pull at my heartstrings, or because they're so hot, these are some of my personal favorites.

Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (4,184 words, rated G)

Cupboard Love: the psychoanalytic theory of an infant’s primary drive being food which, when satisfied, leads naturally to a secondary drive for attachment.

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass (4,899 words, rated G)

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

Five Little Things by @bixgirl1 (6,197 words, rated T)

Harry was supposed to be good at this.

Headway by orphan_account (7,482 words, rated M)

“It’s called courting,” Draco spat suddenly, livid and red in the face. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand a single thing about it, actually Potter, since it’s formal, and there are rules, and neither of those are concepts you’d know anything about even if they took on human form and kicked you right in the fucking dick.”

The Exhale by spqr (7,506 words, rated T)

Hermione makes a soft, concerned sound. "Harry, look at this." She shows him an article with a photo, but the photo's not moving; it must be a Muggle newspaper. "NASA have just landed a rover on Mars. It's called Curiosity, and look, this is so--I don't know if it's sweet or sad, but--it's all alone out there, and they programmed it to sing itself Happy Birthday."

Nothing is wrong, but Harry starts crying.

Silverpoint by @tackytigerfic (8,836 words, rated E)

It seems fairly simple to you, but you know that you don't really understand love - how could you, after all? You've never known how to talk about it, but you've never had to before. Everyone you ended up loving has always understood. You've been able to show them, by fighting for them, dying for them.

That seems a bit much- after all, Malfoy just wants tea in bed and his cock in your mouth (not usually at the same time).

It's ok to love him, you reason with yourself - he doesn't have to know. No one ever has to know.

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel and @babooshkart (10,000 words, rated E)

Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?

The Way These Days Seem to Go (And Go) by @firethesound (15,230 words, rated T)

Stress baking isn’t a hobby Harry ever thought he’d pick up, but he’s surprised to find how much it helps him to get through those long months post-war. It keeps his hands busy, it keeps his mind occupied, and when Draco Malfoy steadily pushes his way back into Harry's life, it helps with that too.

Let him lead me to the banquet by @harryromper (16,066 words, rated T)

The worst part is Harry’s got no idea why Malfoy keeps sending him invites. He’s never replied to a single one. And if the whole dinner is as exclusive and sought-after as the Prophet keeps breathlessly reporting, then presumably the only reason Malfoy wants him there is in his capacity as the Chosen One. So, really, he can fuck right off. Harry doesn’t care about Draco Malfoy’s redemption tour. And he’s certainly not going to help him with it.

Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18,153 words, rated E)

It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way to Burn) by @femmequixotic (22,167 words, rated E)

A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

In the dark, the light by phrynne (32,203 words, rated E)

‘Potter… It’s Malfoy. Do you still want this?’ It started like that. Malfoy’s breath on his ear, his voice low, hot against his skin. Harry shivered, though he could feel the heat from Malfoy’s body just behind him, too close, but not touching him. Even if he could. For the rest of the night, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with Harry.

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (36,733 words, rated E)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 (42,882 words, rated M)

After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (103,395 words, rated T)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre (122,217 words, rated E)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

What We Pretend We Can't See by @gyzym (131,086 words, rated M)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Love forever,

The Drarry Librarian

#my favorites #my favorite fics #the drarry librarian's favorite fics #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco #the drarry librarian #happy blog anniversary to me! 3 years! #blog anniversary

[sunflowersteves]

i'm supposed to be cleaning up my dorm rn but i cant stop thinking abt steve and insecure!reader

first of all hed be so confused as to how you dont think youre beautiful, so hed ask. i think youd tell him maybe you got cheated on or something in the past and hed make it his mission to make sure you felt beautiful all the time. hed call you beautiful every single day, whether youre in one of his sweaters tangled up in bed with no makeup, or in a ballgown, every single day without fail......

(nsfw under here so dont read if you dont want to !)

....hed also rail you in front of a mirror and make you tell him how pretty you are, when he thinks hes got it into your pretty little head, he'll let you cum on his cock.

ok bye babes im gonna go make dinner (a bowl of cereal)

idk how i missed this bc it's making my mouth water,, also i hoped you enjoyed ur cereal dinner ;)

warnings || smut!! insecurity over appearance, fingering, [18+ only]

He would literally look over at you randomly—your face could be stuffed with Cheetos, but he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“You’re beautiful.” He says. His eyes dart from your pajama shorts and all the way up to your cheesy fingers.

His graveled voice sends shivers down your spine. You even try to shy away from his comment, but it was no use. Steve casted his lure and hooked you like no other.

You, in your pajamas, focusing on the movie in front of you with glassy eyes had Steve staring for what felt like an eternity. He no longer cared about whatever it was Patrick Swayze was saying—he cared about staring at you.

~~

He smiles through the doorframe, watching you steady your hand to delicately place eyeliner on your lid.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers. After you perfected the winged liner, you turn toward him.

You giggle this time at your wide eyed boyfriend that’s stunned by your beauty. “Thanks, stevie. You’re beautiful too.”

And at that, he smiles. He smiles so wide—teeth sparkling and joy flushing through his chest. 

“Shall we?” He holds out his arm for you. You lift your dress so you can tiptoe over toward him. You grab your shoes off of the floor and gladly take his arm.

“We shall.”

~~

The third time he tells you that you’re beautiful is when you had discussed of your past insecurities regarding your appearance.

His smile never faded so quickly at the depths of your mind deceiving you of what you truly are—beautiful.

When he tells you that you’re the most beautiful essence he’s ever laid his eyes upon—there’s a sharp glimpse in your eye that tells him you don’t believe him.

So, with your permission, he asks if he could show you how much he thinks you’re beautiful. You obliged, though, you must admit to yourself that you didn’t expect much from it.

Oh, how you were wrong.

Steve sat on the ground, slender legs pouring underneath your own. He spread your thighs out wide for him and stood in front of the two of you was a mirror.

The mirror was long and rectangular that proceeded to grasp every glimpse of you and your arousal.

“Such a pretty baby, yeah? Look at you drippin’ for me.” His words slur together as if he was drunk, and he was.

He was drunk off of the sweet sounds that left your lips and the intoxicating spasms that your walls curled around his fingers.

“Y-You’re so beautiful, baby, so much.” Your head leans back on his chest—your fingers in a death grip on his forearms attacking your spongey hole. “See how beautiful you are for me? S-So wet and, fuck, good.”

You nodded but you weren’t all the way there. Not when he expertly knows exactly how to make you crumble.

“You gonna cum, pretty? C-Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers.” He presses gentle and soft kisses against the base of your neck.

Your slick kissed the apex of your thighs and you could hear each squelch of Steve’s thick fingers dragging out. “S-Steve.”

You beg. You preen. You squirm.

“I’ll only let you cum if you say how beautiful you are, hmm? You won’t get my cock until I see those pretty lips open.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic

[oqlixsreads]

𝗜 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗖𝗵. 𝟭

summary// y/n can see eddie drifting away so easily for someone else, how would he feel when he has to watch you go through what he saw with chrissy? or could he possibly prevent it?

warnings + content warning// angst, fluff, break ups, cursing, mentions of drugs, death, SPOILERS FOR s4, lmk if i missed some

authors note// if i’m obsessing over a character i’ll hit a stage were i need to read or write angst abt them😔 i’m literally in love with chrissy she could never do anything wrong🫶🏼 italics =flashbacks n/n=nickname (this was not supposed to have multiple chapters i’m sorry)

t.list

you had been well aware of these strange things that went on in hawkins. hell you were involved since the day will byers went missing.

you were friends with steve, worked with him during summer where you made your new friend robin. until a human meat monster comes in along with russians torturing the three of you while two kids try to save you.

but that’s in the past now. or at least you tried to put it in the past, newsflash. it didn’t work with everyone reminding you about it or talking about it like it’s the new hot gossip. while you were practically over with your junior year of high school. it was finally time for spring break. you were so close only one day left! although there were some cons to this spring break ahead of you. for some reason you had been starting to see things. clocks for some reason? your nightmares, the headaches, the random clock that would show up, a magic wizard killing teens…

you could get away from the school for two weeks that’s so exciting. it’s even better now that you don’t have to see the boy that had been pushing away from you. your ex eddie. it was hard to walk past his table to get to either max or robin without dustin or mike calling your name. while he was present.

finally. the day was over, max invited you over for a little sleepover it sucked that she lived right beside eddie. the two of you were feeding her dog when his van pulled up. making the both of you turn, and you saw him hoping out locking eyes with one another. before he walked into his uncles trailer.

then seeing another presence following him, the girl you knew eddie had been ditching you for, chrissy. you didn’t blame her though, it was actually far from her fault. max placed her hand on your shoulder. “y/n, you ok?” you let out an agitated sigh “yeah i’m fine” flashing her a small smile. “how about we get ready for bed and watch a horror movie.”

however the power started acting weird. and the two of you heard eddie scream the watch him drive off like a crazy person but just continued on with your night.

you didn’t even get to finish the movie without the two of you being knocked out. a nightmare had taken you once again. this time you were in a long hallway with doors plastered from left to right. and a grandfather clock inside of the wall at the end of the hall. it felt like it kept getting further and further. and that noise no matter how far the wall was the noise just kept getting louder as if it were right beside you.

a door to the right creaked open and there were your friends. however they were dead with flies coming out of their mouths while swarming their bodies. you watched in horror the sight was sickening. while trying to leaving the room you were met with a door slammed shut.

and a deep voice behind you. “you’re next, but don’t worry. i’ll take the pain away.” “w-what?” it felt like the floor was snatched beneath you.

you were falling for what it felt like an eternity before shooting up on the bed while sweat beads were rested on your forehead while it felt like something was punching our skull over, and over. “holy fuck.” max wasn’t beside you anymore or she was probably out in the kitchen.

police sirens were heard in the distance but got louder as the approached a near house. following the noises max caught sight of you and the two teenagers ushered outside. they were at eddie’s house.

“looks like that munson boy’s up to no good again.” while his uncle sat in the porch looking stressed, or traumatized even. y/n and max took a closer look the scene in front of them made their stomachs churn. Chrissy cunninghams lifeless body sat right there on the floor. it felt like the world went quiet until an officer came scared them back into the house. “you kids can’t be out here, get back inside.”

y/n and max had a feeling this had to do with the past encounters they had before. there was no way a human could possibly do what had been done on that poor girl.

“ok, what the fuck did we just see.” y/n said as calm as one could be. max was struggling to form the words that were going on in her mind. “we should go see dustin.”

“Chrissy cunningham?! you’re sure it was her?” “yes, she was in her cheerleader outfit when we saw her with eddie.” “you tell all this to the cops?” dustins voice sounded unsure about this information pacing back and forth. “no, no but we can be the only ones that saw them. i mean, they stick out like a sore thumb”.

“Eddie the freak. and chrissy the cheerleader.” “Eddie’s probably suspect number one right now.” the boys facial expressions changed like a gust of wind knocked his hat off. “no way, eddie didn’t do this” max’s face made an iffy expression. “no. way.” “honestly, i don’t really think eddie did it either.” y/n spoke with agreeing with dustin. “i mean we saw her body there’s no way any person could possibly do this.”

“well we can’t rule it out.” “yes we can.” “the only person nice to mike and i when we got to high school was eddie.” “they said the same thing about ted bundy.” y/n’s head tilted and eyes narrowed looking at max.

“are you comparing him to ted bundy?” “n-no! we just can’t presume anything plus it doesn’t look good for eddie.” the three teenagers took a seat on the bed “why didn’t you guys tell this to the cops.” they sighed. “something happened, in the house. the power went crazy. and we heard eddie scream then drive off like a maniac.”

“what if this wasn’t something you could see.” y/n stuttered. “but that’s impossible plus the only person that actually knows.” “eddie”.

the three of them went rushing out of the house not before Ms. henderson scolded them “dusty where are you kids going? you heard the news it’s not safe.” “you’re right so we’ll be extra careful. thanks mom, i love you bye.”

the trio sped off to the video shop. “y/n what are you doing here? it’s your day of-“ max cut steve off “steve we need the phones, all of them.” robins and steve’s eyebrows knitted together. “huh?”

dustin jumped over the counter the the three older ones yelling at him. “guys you could play around out here on monday but it’s saturday our busiest day.” dustin ignored them and continued looking up eddie’s friends phone numbers.

“yeah do one of you wanna strangle him or should i do it.” steve said glancing from robin to y/n. “guys fill them in.” “fill us in on what..?”

now all of them were on the phone with his friends. while steve was flirting with customers. until max got someone ‘reefer rick’ however they knew nothing about this man. till steve recommends the police. “we’re trying to prove him innocent steve.” now the five of them surrounded the computer narrowing out all the ricks in the system.

after finding one that might just be the one they sped down to the home by lovers lake.

even though y/n hated eddie for falling out of love with them and the way they had to find out. the way he was so up front about it.

the two of them met up in the woods behind the school whenever they could. y/n quickly picked up when he wasn’t showing up to dates, or movie nights, never kissing them, or picking up calls. watching him share a glance or two with chrissy.

“you’re dealing to chrissy now?” y/n said looking up from the book in front of them. “that’s shocking.” eddie shook his head in agreement. “just don’t leave me for her.” y/n joked trying to see him laugh instead he hit them with a scoff and rolled his eyes. “seriously y/n” “what? i’m just messing with you.”

oh and y/n knew all about his little crush from middle school.

they had agreed to meet up at their spot in the woods unbeknownst that they would find him there with chrissy. watching from a distance to where they did see them they saw eddie being all cheerful, happy, he was giggling and she was too, eddie was giving her the opposite of what he was giving to y/n.

they watched their boyfriend have a wider smile on his face than the one he gave them in the morning. y/n walked back not caring if a twig broke turning their attention onto them. chrissy didn’t seem to hear it from her laughter but eddie heard it. and caught sight of his partners figure get smaller and smaller with every step they took. he knew he was royally fucked.

“hey sorry but i need to be heading home.” the deal was cut short and he raced after them with chrissy going in the opposite direction. luckily for him he was able to catch up. “hey y/n wait!” he spoke quietly grabbing their shoulder and turning them around. “just leave me alone eddie. i’m tired of this.” “tired of what?” y/n swayed their head with a sarcastic smile and laugh. “you keep forgetting about me for her. don’t even try and say it was just a deal. because you know it wasn’t. just fuck off at this point.”

“no, no, no, no. don’t walk away. i’ll make it up to you, i promise i will.”

the first time they had hung out in what felt like months y/n felt him pulling away. “eddie” his eyes tore from the screen to look y/n in the eyes. “hm?” “why don’t we go on dates anymore?” he looked at the ground. “uhm don’t know i guess we’re too busy.” they winced at that stupid excuse and let a single tear hold down their cheeks. “that’s such bullshit.”

his heart rate picked up. “what?” “i know you don’t want me eddie. you want her. why won’t you just admit it? were you set on leading me on until i couldn’t take it anymore?” he was at loss for words while being met with questions he could never answer without straight up saying ‘i don’t know’. “i-well.” he stumbled over his words. he looked guilty. “you don’t want me eddie. do you?” “i- i’m sorry y/n. i don’t love you anymore.” that was the last straw. “you should’ve just broke it off with me. you wasted my time.”

they grabbed their shoes lacing the strings and opened up the door. “wait- don’t leave. it’s raining let me drive you home and we can talk.” the door shut. and y/n walked home tears that night. 7 months of their life. wasted for nothing. and for what?

the next few days were absolute hell. it sucked you were good friends with dustin and mike, because he was too, they caught on fast when they weren’t showing up to the campaigns anymore and scolded eddie. all they wanted to do was go home but was stop by mike.

“y/n do you have a minute?” “no.” they just stopped hanging out with them altogether.

those words would repeat over and over again. but the real question was why does y/n care so damn much? very valid question as surely most people would turn away and not give a shit.

they pulled up to an empty house on liptom. “looks like no one’s in the-“ dusting started banging on the door. yelling out his name. when y/n saw a shed. “hey guys? i’m gonna look in the shed.” max followed behind feeling like it was necessary.

the place had food wrappers and they started analyzing it. till steve started poking the tarp with an ore. “he might be in here.” “hey i think someone was here.” “maybe he got spooked and ran away.” “don’t worry steve with help us with his ore.” with a figure popping out from under a blanket.

half scaring them all to shit. “wait wait wait.” “EDDIE STOP ITS DUSTIN!” forcing steve to drop the ore. “it’s my friends you know robin from band. this is max the one that never wants to play d&d and you know n/n obviously.” he said trying to lighten up the mood. “i swear on my mothers life.” the younger guy said ushering everyone else to agree with him. “yeah, yeah we swear on dustin’s mother.”

eddie sat down and was shaking and flinched at the touch of dustin’s hand. “we just want to know what happened.” y/n said taking a closer step. “you won’t believe me.”

“try us.”

“her body just- lifted up into the air. and just stayed in the air. and her bones started to snap.” he paused “it was like something was inside her head. pulling. and i left her there.”

he was looking from dustin to robin to max and steve but refusing to make eye contact with y/n. “you all probably think i’m crazy.” “no we actually think the opposite eddie.” “don’t bullshit me.” “we aren’t we believe you.”

they start explaining the upside down. and how hawkins isn’t totally a good place. y/n bent to his level “the monsters have been back before and if they’re back again. we need to know. did you see anything?” “like dark particles?” “like dust almost. swirling dust.”

“no man. it wasn’t anything you could see. or touch.” max and y/n exchanged a look. “i tried to wake her it’s like she was in a trance.” “a spell.” “a curse”

“vecna’s curse.”

“an undead wizard with great power.”

all of them were trying to piece together what the fuck was going on in this town. then dustin spoke up.

“we’ll get you some food and try to find some information. y/n i need to go stay here with eddie.” he said as if they had no choice and tossing a walkie-talkie into their hands. “WHAT THE FUCK? NO? i’m not staying here with him.” automatically protesting. “yeah i don’t really think that’s a good idea.” max said trying to defend y/n’s situation.

“he needs someone with him.” “yes i agree but that someone will not be me.” “y/n listen-“ eddie attempted to butt in the conversation but failed miserably. “shut up.” “i’m not staying here with him dustin.”

y/n watched the four of their “friends” drive away without them. “you gotta be fucking kidding me.” their intention was to talk to themselves but ended with eddie hearing it. “y/n can we just talk.” they ignored him by walking off into the house.

finding the closest room and slamming the door in his face. y/n spent the last hour talking to max on the walkie-talkie. “i can’t believe you let them drive off without me max. i’ll never forgive you for this one y’know.” “i know i’m sorry. it’s getting really late. i’m sorry again. goodnight.” y/n sighed to themself. “goodnight.”

slowly dozing off. before rudely interrupted by 4 soft knocks from the other side of them door. “please y/n i just want to talk.” he got no response. “i know you’re awake, i won’t come in but just listen to what i have to say.” y/n sat up and sat in front of the closed door keeping the two apart.

“i don’t need closure eddie. you already said it. you don’t love me anymore.” their voice cracked while eyes were brimmed with tears. lifting their hand up to lock the door that sat behind them. eddie heard the click. “you don’t have to respond y/n just listen to me.”

“ok look i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry, the second i realized i wanted chrissy and thought i fell out of love i should’ve broke it off. but i didn’t and i missed out on our dates, our movie nights. i missed everything i know. and i shouldn’t have. i wasn’t there for you. i lied. i wish there’s a way for me to go back and fix it but i can’t. you’re the most amazing person i’ll ever meet, and i was stupid enough to not see that.” there was a long pause.

“i was wrong y/n, i was wrong when i said i didn’t love you anymore. i still do and i realized this since you left my house that night, i shouldn’t have let you walk out..” the silence between them was awkward and uncomfortable. “i love you.”

their nose flared, what do you even say after your ex who told you no more than 5 weeks ago that he didn’t love you anymore, does in fact still love you?

“no you don’t eddie”.

he heard foot steps getting further from the door and shuffling noises from the bed and heard the lamp cut off. there’s no way he was recovering from this one anytime soon.

i decided to make this a series i don’t feel like making a long ff and it might be LONG

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[brewstersbru]

Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o

The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.

Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.

Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.

All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.

The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.

Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.

The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.

Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.

Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.

Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.

It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.

The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.

“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.

“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.

Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”

Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.

“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“

Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.

“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.

“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.

Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.

She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.

It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.

It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.

Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.

“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.

“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.

With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.

“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.

Alastor rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.

“This is really good. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.

“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.

‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.

“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.

“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.

Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.

It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.

Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.

There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.

The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.

A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.

With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.

Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.

He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.

Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.

His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.

He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.

Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.

Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?

“Explain.”

Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.

“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”

Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.

“Give. Me. The. Needle.”

Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.

He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.

The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.

“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”

Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.

“What about you?”

Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?

“What about me?” He asks.

Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.

“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.

That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.

Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.

“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.

Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.

“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.

Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?

Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.

“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.

“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.

There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.

“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”

Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.

Lucifer nods, hesitantly.

“I can do that. Thanks.”

Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.

“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”

And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.

Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.

Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.

Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.

#radioapple #queerplatonic #old men #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #theyre so odd and weird about affection #oh u didnt maul me and u made me food? #what do u like me or smth? #something something giving a monumental sacrifice and acting like its nothing bc if you dont you have to grapple w the fact that you care #anyways #brublurbs #enjoy idk how long this is but it took four hrs to write !

[fand0mh03]

What abt the Evans with a reader who gets like violently aggressive? And I mean like “I will cut you open and set a pack of wolves on you to eat your organs.” And then after their little fit of anger they say the most innocent thing like, “Thanks for listening!” Or, “Too much?” I just think that’ll be funny who quickly reader can change like that from a fucking hell spawn to the most innocent person alive 💀

The Evans with a hot-headed S/O

Hi love! This was a really fun request to write, and I hope I was able to encapture your idea well enough <3  I had way too much fun writing this lol

Tate Langdon:

He’s afraid of you. Point blank, period, terrified

Like yeah your his significant other, but he’s fucking scared to get you mad

“Tate, do that again and I will rip out your organs from your ass and feed them to your mother”

This will make everyone stop in their tracks and just stare at you

Tate will stop doing whatever he’s doing to piss you off or annoy you, and will apologize and take a few steps back

You’d go back to reading your magazine and just look up when it goes quiet and just say “what?”

You’re not aware of how hot-headed you really are. At all

You get really peeved if Tate does something repetitive to you, like copying you, or tickling you

When Tate tickles you, you’ll giggle at first and tell him to stop once. Second time you’ll tell him to stop again. However, the third time is when you get angry

“Tate stop fucking tickling me, I swear to god I will put you in a crawlspace and leave you there for all of eternity”

He pauses and just stares at you

“Too much?”

He thinks its funny when it’s not directed at him

Kit Walker:

He tries to calm you down a lot of the times

Most of the time it’s not in an angry manner, but like an annoyed tone if that makes sense?

“Kit, I swear to god, if you don’t fucking get to bed right now, I will drug you and force you to sleep”

He stares at you before smiling and laughing, in shock from how aggressive you have gotten for no reason at all

He listens to you, because who wouldn’t when they’re being threatened?

Oh god, when Jude comes in the house and hits one of the kids as a punishment for something- you two see red

“Fuck that, get the fuck out of my sight before I pull your eyes out and feed them to you!”

Kit stops and motions to the children, who stare at you in confusion. You nod and let him deal with it, comforting the children who had just gotten hit

He usually has to deal with things because you will get angry and will threaten them, especially if they say or do anything towards kit and your kids

Kyle Spencer:

It’s never directed at him, but always at the other members of kappa gamma

Kyle will complain to you about something the other one is doing, but you will see that as a reason to scare the others into making them stop whatever their doing

“I heard what you said to Kyle. Say that again, and I will tear you apart, limb from limb, and make it look like a bear attack. Do you understand?”

They usually laugh, thinking your joking, until you continue to glare at them, then their laughter dies down and they usually nod and walk away, never doing it again

Kyle has 0 idea. He just thinks they realized how annoying they were being

“Y/N they stopped!” He would say excitedly to you, as you act shocked and congratulate him

Jimmy Darling:

Sometimes it’s directed at him, but mostly when he’s drunk

“Jimmy stop fucking drinking, one of these days I will call the townspeople on you, motherfucker”

He stops throwing up and just stares at you “What”

“Jimmy if you don’t stop drinking, I am going to actually swallow a bunch of Advil and fucking end it all”

“OH MY GOD-WHAT?!”

Afterwards once he’s sobered up, you just look at him, smile and say “thanks for listening”

And leave him there, confused, scared, and slightly concerned

#ahs #american horror story #evan peters #evan peters x reader #ahs asylum #ahs coven #kit walker #ahs murder house #kit walker x reader #kyle spencer #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon imagines #tate x reader #kit walker fanfiction #kit walker imagines #kyle spencer headcannons #kyle spencer fluff #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer x reader #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling headcannons

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 14

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn

cw ; mentions of scars (edit: im a fucking idiot i forgot they talk abt scars at the start of the chapter) and like… brief dottore mention, so u know it’s icky. also u guys will be mad at me.

notes ; AHHH!!!!! I LIVE!!!!! oh gosh so many hectic life events lately….. i hadnt been able to get my hands on this dang chapter for so long

anyhow, i was planning to publish this one early like a day or two ago with a reference to an arlecchino voiceline that was THEN a leak and not out yet, so i’m glad i waited and developed this one just a little more LOL

also good luck with everyone’s arle pulls!!! (better luck than mine i hope ;w;) just like childe and the reader at some point, WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS ‼️

previous | next | masterlist

“agh— be more gentle!”

“i’ll be more gentle if you stop flinching away. you’re a war machine who can turn into an abyssal beast, withstand how draining it is to use it, hold your ground against a champion duelist but you can’t handle a little cotton ball soaked in alcohol?”

“well there’s no adrenaline anymore to remedy this sting, now, is there?”

it’s almost comically reminiscent of your meeting with childe back in zapolyarny palace, where he got himself hurt just to come tell you that he was to leave for liyue— feels like it was ages ago. childe leans against the elegant marble counter of your hotel room’s bathroom, pile of bloodied cottons and tissues piling by his hands, while you clean the fresh wounds he’s just acquired from clorinde.

from how much he flinches and hisses, the wounds almost seem grave… but they’re no more than a few scratches, slashes and bruises. after his witty remark, you can only attribute his absurd resilience during battle to the mentioned adrenaline— otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as he has with those reactions of his.

“so did you get what you wanted from that spar? how was it in comparison to your other tries?”

childe pauses thoughtfully and proceeds to pout.

“…i think she was still holding back. i need another spar.”

“gh-! are you kidding?! childe tartaglia ajax, i am not letting you resplit the forehead i just fixed up anytime soon.”

he sighs melancholy like a grounded child, but nods in agreement anyhow. childe’s eyes remain downward, he mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your shirt as he awaits patiently for you to finish tending to his wounds. once you finish, you scan him up and down to certify that you’ve taken care of everything, until your gaze is caught by his scars.

his war medals.

he’s got an insurmountable amount of them scattered all over his body and not one is like the other— some are large lashes most likely caused by weapons like axes or claymores; some are finer lines caused by swords or daggers; a few of them even look like different types of burns, likely the work of varied elemental catalysts; and some look like small stars or circles, probably the result of arrows or the tips of polearms.

the inches of his skin that his scars don’t cover are littered with the tiniest specs of freckles… ones you’ve barely had the privilege to see over the years as a result of living in eternally cold lands. it’s only been since you’ve both been to warmer regions like liyue, inazuma and now fontaine that you’ve began to notice them.

and you’ve found that the intricate, graceful tapestry that childe’s scars and freckles weave is… gorgeous.

it’s so uniquely mesmerizing that you nearly struggle to find a worthy comparison within words or the world around you. the closest one would be to a starry sky— you imagine that his freckles become the stars that remain stationary and furthest away in the night sky, small and bountiful, while his scars are the shooting stars that flash by in a vivid explosion of light.

it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

you’ve realized that you’re less afraid to admit this to yourself now. perhaps spending so much constant time with childe after such a while of misencounters and diverging schedules, has made you become more comfortable around him— to the point where you barely minded him childishly playing with the hem of your shirt. it feels fine, domestic even… almost in the same way that a coup—

“hey, why’re you staring so hard? am i not gonna make it, doc?”

you flinch as you’re snapped away from your train of thought, taking in how childe’s eyes flicker worriedly over your face. unfortunately, your mind isn’t freed from the grasp of your thoughts of… admiration and your gaze quickly flies over his scars once again. the delicacy of the moment, unexpectedly, fuels you with enough confidence to raise forward a hand that lightly grazes a particularly eye-catching gash on childe’s neck— the stretched healed skin ever so slightly bumping against your digits.

“nothing… j’st looking at your scars.” you answer absentmindedly.

beneath your hand, you feel his adam’s apple raise in a hearty gulp. next, childe inhales deeply and exhales a shuddered breath, as if an attempt to ground himself.

“what about ‘em?” he whispers expectantly.

“i like them.”

it’s as if you’ve gotten the liquid courage of a drink while being entirely sober, you’re surprised that you’ve done so much as let yourself say that out loud. though perhaps… that bewilderment might just be your downfall— within the thought, you notice just how close you and childe stand before each other. he leans against the bathroom counter in only the deep red undershirt of his uniform, eyes laser-guided onto your every move while you’re only a hair’s length away from him. his absurd height doesn’t help the moment either, as he’s forced to hunch over and his figure arches forward into you— it’s suffocating.

you can’t allow yourself to crumble and panic right now, it would absolutely destroy you for the rest of your life, so you opt to breathe deeply. childe watches intently as you do and returns it with his own deep sigh, one that you feel hit your face warmly the moment it leaves his lips and so it further capitalizes on just how obscenely close the two of you are— to the point where you breathe each other’s air.

childe’s piercing azure eyes move from matching your own to slightly further down on your face…

to your lips.

“yeah?” he mumbles in the most delicate tone possible, it’s not like you’re too far to hear anyway.

it’s an inexplicable magnetic pull that brings you the smidgenmost closer to him, it has to be so. it must be that same pull that brings you to look at his mouth— plump and pink, likely still store from the split at the corner of his bottom lip. and there’s no other possibility other than that damned magnet as to why your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, childe’s shyly snaking around your waist in response.

you don’t feel like you’re in a bathroom in a hotel room in fontaine anymore, you don’t feel like the seconds pass anymore. it’s a pocket between space and time that has enveloped the two of you, away from everything else.

and there’s nothing in this world left to do other than to lean just a breath closer to each other… just a little more and—

knock knock knock knock!

you flinch away faster than lightning, heart thudding ironically like thunder. childe also seems to have been entirely spooked by the knocks on the bedroom door and he pretends to bring his hand up to scratch something on his face, but you know very well he means to hide his glaringly flushed face— you know that because you do the very same, only you briskly step away to open the door instead.

outside the room, two fontainian officers greet you, though they seemingly go wide eyed for just a brief second as if you’re not who they expect to answer.

“forgive me, friend, this is… mr. tartaglia’s room, is it not?” one inquires.

you frown in suspicion, and you plan to not directly confirm the question as to pry exactly what business two policemen would have with childe. unfortunately, the devil decides to announce it himself by coming up behind you, arms crossed defensively.

“and what might be the problem, officer?” childe asks pointedly.

both officers simultaneously eye the two of you, the blushing idiots opening the door together, and proceed to share a knowing look. the first officer sighs while the second clears his throat awkwardly.

“we apologize for… intruding so abruptly but— mr. tartaglia, you are currently being suspected of being the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young women case. for the time being, you are under arrest and must face trial at the opera epiclese to make your case.”

…what.

“what?”

coincidentally, both you and childe exclaim at the same time— though, childe’s tone is rather condescendingly skeptical while yours is laced with pure, unadulterated shock.

the harbinger scoffs. “well, i can very confidently tell you right now that i didn’t do it.”

yeah, great way to clear any and all suspicion, man.

frustratedly pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to help you process the last five seconds, you sigh.

“i-i think what he means to say, officer, is that it’s not plausible for him to even be a suspect in this case. i mean— if i remember correctly, doesn’t that case extend for over twenty years? we’ve only been in fontaine for a few weeks! you can check our travel tickets, they’re dated. plus, we haven’t done anything even remotely disruptive while we’ve been here, both of us have multiple reliable alibi’s regarding our whereabouts over the past few days, and—“

the officer puts up a dismissive hand, effectively interrupting you. “please, leave this for the iudex to hear.”

a metallic jingling catches your attention and you see that the second policeman wordlessly produces handcuffs from his tool belt, the panic bubbles in your throat even further. childe’s shoulders visibly tense and it’s clear that he’s intent on fighting back— with once again lighting fast reflexes, you put a hand on his shoulder and throw him a warning look as a means to discreetly impede him. childe sighs frustratedly but ceases anyhow, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. out of pure illogical desperation, you chase after.

“don’t say anything hostile or stupid until we find you a lawyer! i promise you i’ll be right behind!” you call out as the three are at the other end of the hallway and catch a final look from childe, the emotion behind it is indescribable.

your chest feels overwhelmingly tight.

—

who knew such a resplendent room could be so suffocating.

it feels as though you’ve been waiting for an eternity and the intended comfort of the opera eplicese’s waiting room only serves to unnerve you more. the most important person in your life has just been abruptly accused of being a serial kidnapper and you’re supposed to indulge in sickeningly sweet pastries and tasteless tea? it’s almost derogatory.

your leg has become sore from how much it bounces restlessly, your nail plates scratchy from how much you fidget with them, all the paper napkins on the table sloppily folded into failed paper stars. none of it helps.

you can’t even decide what to worry about, all of it swirls and spirals in your head like a rumbling tornado. is he okay? are the officers treating him well? who will defend him? will he go to prison? for how long? when in the tsaritsa’s name will arlecchino retur—

the door slams open and you jump, partially with the abruptness of it and out of sheer panic to get some news on the situation. your heart starts palpitating again and it takes everything within your willpower to seem more put together in front of the knave.

“s-so?” you ask with an uncontrollable shake in voice.

“it’s invariable, childe must face trial and defend himself. we can only count on the factuality that he is innocent and the oratrice will say accordingly.”

you sigh, at least… whatever in the archons’ name constitutes that machine is infallible.

“the trial starts in five minutes.” arlecchino adds curtly.

you nod and allow yourself to take a deep, grounding breathe before standing up to leave the waiting room. as your hand reaches out to the doorknob, there is a firm grip on your shoulder. you turn ever so slightly to find a pointy-nailed, stark black hand holding you back— another moment to analyze the hand reveals to you that… that’s her skin. black.

a chill runs down your spine.

“allow me, for a moment, to ask a selfish question in exchange for a selfish answer, sargeant.” she stands, voice dark and menacing. “as an asset of the doctor’s… do you share his ideals?”

the question takes you off-guard but it also… doesn’t. you’re not an idiot— you’ve heard of dottore’s letters to the house of the hearth suggesting the, err.. ‘rejects’ be sent to his custody so he can further his experiments. you remember how utterly appalled you were when you first came across the information. if the knave truly cares about the children in her orphanage, it’s no wonder how tightly she grips your shoulder, sharp nails just a breath away from breaking skin.

and so she asks you selfishly, a question not of loyalty but of morality.

dottore’s face flashes before your eyes and your hand subconsciously tightens into a fist, expression hardening.

“if his life were in my hands, i’d crush it in a heartbeat.” you whisper bitterly.

the grip releases you and it’s as if air is easier to breathe after that. arlecchino wordlessly steps ahead to open the door for you and gestures for you to leave first, expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

the courtroom looks like no courtroom at all, rather you feel as though you’re about to watch an opera in a grand theater— the rumors about fontaine seem to be true after all. in the rows of cushy seats, people whisper and gossip endlessly until you find yourself a seat and the booming sound of a gavel being struck echoes through the court, all sound ceases.

“court is now in session for the case of serial disappearances of young women, today we will hear both the prosecution and defense’s arguments regarding mr. tartaglia of the fatui’s alleged involvement.”

a baritone voice echoes through the silent courtroom, the direction it rings out from reveals a white-haired man in proper blue robes, sitting in a balcony that floats above the courtroom’s stage. you recognize him as the iudex, the chief justice, monsieur neuvillette. his tone is elegant and intellectual, with complete considerate professionalism—- its cadence almost reminds you of zhongli in a sense. but that’s not all that reminds you of zhongli… you can’t quite put your finger on it though.

what follows is merely formal introductions from the prosecution and the defense and you take the opportunity to become distracted and ponder over just how catastrophic your morning had turned out. it all happened so quickly too— one second you were… ah… canoodling with childe and the next he was being escorted out the room by law enforcement. had you been cursed by the gods? would they be so cruel as to make every peaceful moment in your life just merely bedding for the next major inconvenience? would they be so frustratingly taunting as to let you get that close to the one you have feelings for only to rip you two away from each other right afterwards?

“it would appear i must repeat my question, mr. tartaglia.” neuvillette says firmly, catch your attention and breaking you from your daze.

“do you accept the charge that you are the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case?”

“to be perfectly honest, i don’t understand your country’s complicated court systems, or the reason why i’m being charged with something i’ve never even heard of.” the harbinger answers bluntly.

“however, i did hear that people who have been charged can choose to participate in a duel to clear their name— is that right? in that case, as long as i accept the charge, i can have an all out fight with that champion duelist clorinde, right?”

…

how can the supposed love of your life be this stupid?

“when i privately sparred with her last time, she was obviously holding back… real disappointing.”

“hey, don’t you understand? you’re currently the prime suspect for a major case! this isn’t the place for you to be looking for fights.” a female voice calls out from the balcony directly above where you seat— while you can’t see who it is, you can only assume from the bossiness of her tone that it’s lady furina herself, the hydro archon.

“oh? sounds like the hydro archon wants to lecture me on the ways of the opera house…” childe taunts. “then why don’t you duel me too? i’m the kind of students that learns best in the heat of battle.”

you’ll kill him, oh you’ll kill this idiot one day… does he want to rot in prison for the rest of his days? this time you truly cannot hold yourself back from subconsciously standing up in panic, limbs urging to get up there and try to amend the situation yourself by arguing like a normal, sane person— but the judging stares of the other spectators hinder you glued to your seat out of sheer embarrassment.

“alas, it would appear that communication with the defendant is going poorly, and we have made very little progress.” neuvillette intervenes. “in that case, let me explain everything from the very beginning again. the goal of this trial is to determine the culprit behind the serial disappearances case—“

“that case had nothing to do with him! you’ve got the wrong man!”

huh? …who said that? did that not come out of your own mouth? seems like something you’d blur out… instead it comes from a flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who bursts into the courtroom at that very second. to you, she nearly seemed angelic in the moment.

“miss navia, this is the second time you’ve interrupted the court proceedings. i only tolerated your behavior last time because you were able to provide the court with a key eyewitness. but that was exception rather than standard court protocol— i can very well charge you with contempt of court for your interjections.”

“oh please, did you ever think i had any respect for this place’s pointless theatrics?” navia scoffs.

“we can put aside that discussion for now, i’m not here to argue with you. i’m here to charge the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case. and if my charges prove true, the tartaglia here will be proven innocent by default, correct?”

neuvillette proceeds to dismiss childe from the stand to make way for navia and allows him to seat in the audience and you feel like you should owe this lady your life. childe’s eyes scan through the seats and when he spots you, he visibly lights up and beelines to the seat next to yours.

“challenging the hydro archon? really?” you whisper playfully.

childe contains himself not to laugh loudly. “can’t say it wasn’t worth the shot.”

it’s as if a wordless conversation settles between the two of you, silent glances and deep sighs that express the mutual hopefulness for a good outcome of this trial. after a solid few seconds of staring at each other like fools, childe’s gaze drops down, you follow it to see his gloved palm sat in the armrest between the two of you— it faces outward in an invitation. your hand joins his without thought and the second your skin registers the warmth that radiates from his hold, it’s like an electric shock runs through your veins. one so buzzing that makes you two simultaneously face away from each other to hide your burning cheeks.

you’d like to pretend that you’re paying attention to the trial, but the ever so gentle squeezes childe hand gives yours periodically seem to take up all of your focus and cause it to short circuit. suddenly, there’s another burst of the courtroom’s doors and there stand the traveler and paimon, because of course they’re somehow also involved in this.

“naviaaa, we’re back!” paimon calls out.

“as expected of my partner! i just knew you’d come back in the nick of time!”

“just how often do you intend to flout the rules of this court…” neuvillette mutters disappointedly.

the traveler’s appearance contributes new evidence towards navia’s favor, who expertly disperses all of the oppositions statements. the culprit is revealed to be a man by the name of vacher, who was intent on bringing back his dear vigneire to the point where he began dissolving innocent young women with primordial seawater. as overtly ridiculous as fontaine’s spectacle culture seemed to be, you couldn’t say that watching this trial play out wasn’t extremely entertaining.

but speaking of innocent…

“at this point, the verdict of this trial is clear. with mr. marcel’s conviction, the charges against mr. tartaglia no longer hold any basis.”

you giddily look over at childe, who seems as aloof as someone who didn’t worry for a second. your fingertips tingle with excitement and you can feel the stress evaporate off your shoulders in real time. neuvillette summarizes the entire case once more and submits the verdict to the oratrice— the machine hums loudly and flashes a blinding blue, producing an envelope finally confirming his guilty status. much to unspoken disappointment, childe lets go of your hand to stand with his chest proudly puffed up.

“well now, hasn’t this been the most delicious piece of drama? the villain has been caught, justice has been served, pas wrongs have been righted and it’s a bit ol happy ending… since it’s been such a great show, i’ll just let the false accusations against me slide. either way, i’ve still got some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me—“

the harbinger looks back to offer you his hand once more and you happily take it before childe begins to lead you two out of the room. unfortunately, the guards at the doors of the courtroom remain unmoving as they block the doors and you frown in confusion.

“please wait just one moment, mr. tartaglia.” says the iudex.

“oh, what now? none of this has anything to do with me.” childe groans.

“according to court protocol, since this trial was initiated due to a charge against you, a verdict must also be made regarding the initial charge before the trial can conclude.”

you sigh out of selfish frustration, but opt to respect the proceedings anyhow— it’s not like the verdict will change now. childe, on the other hand, voices his annoyance like a petulant kid.

“please respect the laws of fontaine. this has always been the rule.”

“it’s fine, we’ll just have to wait here a few little seconds more.” you whisper to childe coaxingly.

he sighs. “alright alright, but this has been a lot of hassle. all i need is to stand over there, right? let’s just get this over with…”

“through evidence presented in the public trial that was just held, it has been established that mr. tartaglia has no direct connection to the serial disappearances case. the guilty party has been established and thus, it is logical to suppose mr. tartaglia is innocent of the charges.”

the machine whirrs once more, stirring some curiosity within you as to what exactly makes it tick or give accurate verdicts at all. as the envelope reaches the chief justice’s hands, he seems to stutter for a moment as he reads it. neuvillette’s ever so stoic face falls slightly into a vexed frown and he hums in confusion.

“according to the judgment of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, mr. tartaglia is— guilty.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

#genshin impact fic #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia x reader

[dani-ya-dig]

Ok now that I’m fully awake. It’s time try and organize my thoughts on that audio oh my god.

Also trigger warning for mentions of suicide under the cut

That’s actually the first thing I wanna talk about, and is the only gripe I have with the entire video. Why the fuck wasn’t mentions of suicide tagged in the description??

Like I understand the concept wasn’t dwelled on and Sam didn’t outright say “I’m gonna fucking kill myself” but he PRETTY EXPLICITLY talked about how he planned to commit suicide even if he didn’t say those words. idk “chosen morality” doesn’t seem like the right warning for that? I’m not gonna complain abt it like too much, I just was a little confused on why it wasn’t tagged.

But anyways onto my jumbled up thoughts about the actual audio! Because as a member of the Sam Collins fandom, I have thoughttsssssss!!

THIS AUDIO MADE ME SOB! I couldn’t sleep because of how sad I was over it. Sam and Darlin need to be happy just for fucking ONCE, god give them a BREAKKKKKK.

The idea of them just silently holding each other on their roof with the night sky above them, a few tears probably falling from both of them. IM DUHXSJDIJFDJFHFHJ

AND MOTHERFUCKER THE VIDEO ENDING ON “Brown. My eyes were brown” I FELL TO THE FLOOR SHUT THE FUCK UP!

On a happier note about that, I KNEW Sam’s eyes were brown. I feel like almost everyone did tbh. I’ll tell you what gave it away though, the gentle way he says “please” to Darlin in some of his audios. Automatically gave it away that he would have had the biggest brown puppy dog eyes you have ever seen in your life. I’m physically sick over it, it’s not even funny.

Now back to the thing I desperately don’t wanna think about. Sam telling Darlin that he wasn’t planning on living forever.

That’s where the dam broke for me, I started bawling. It totally makes sense, I get it and I can’t say that it’s not a choice that makes sense given that Sam never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

Do y’all think that he was planning to watch the sunrise on his roof? Because that was my first thought and it hurt real bad. Sam finally getting to feel the sunlight after so many years of having been deprived of it, only to be ash when the sun was fully in the sky.

Also I know damn well he probably would have done it after Darlin died and that’s what hurts so bad. If Darlin chose to be a vampire I think he would happily spend however long their eternity would be by their side, but once they were gone he probably wouldn’t feel a reason to stay. Especially because if Darlin turned into a vampire the two of them probably would have completely pulled away from all mortals before that would happen.

On that note, I don’t think Darlin is gonna want to be turned. I never really thought they would, unless they were under very specific circumstances. Sam telling them to spend time in their wolf form and with their pack before deciding solidified that for me 100%. I don’t think they would be able to lose their wolf which we know is a pretty big part of shifters, talking from Milo’s audio where he breaks down worried he was never going to be able to shift again. I don’t think they would be okay with the idea of watching their friends, and their family all start to wither away and eventually die while they remain.

Now, do I think Darlin is going to want to be turned? No. Do I think the dynamic of Darlin choosing to remain mortal opens a lot of really good angst possibilities? Yes. Do I fully trust Erik to not turn them anyways? Not really no.

If I had to put a bet in for how it would happen if Darlin got turned, it would be by Quinn. Quinn would find out or catch wind of the fact that they chose not to be turned (if he didn’t already know they would chose that) and turn them anyways just to hurt them.

(I think Alexis turning them is an interesting idea to think about, from any angle but I highly doubt that’s gonna happen lmao)

All in all I genuinely think that was the only audio that has affected me that much (aside from maybe listening to the inversion for the first time??)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted sam collins #sam collins #redacted darlin

[shinelikethunder]

You mentioned in one of ur posts abt dunking on agents of shield and im so curious what writing you were talking abt (genuine question i love AOS but i’m bad at recognising bad writing lmao and i’m nosy)

under a readmore because AoS is one of the few bad shows i've ever given enough fucks about to outright fucking loathe

i made it through all of, like, two seasons before i ragequit, so i can't speak to anything it did afterwards, but i am always down to clown on those two seasons for being creepy culty police-state apologia, having one of the most egregious cases i've ever seen of "entire fictional universe contorted into a rube goldberg machine whose sole job is to frantically prop up a shambling putrid mess of protagonist-centric morality," spending its CA:TWS tie-in throwing spite tantrums at the whole movie for having the gall to suggest that Maybe The Real Tyranny Was The Post-9/11 Security State We Built Along The Way, devolving from mediocre but serviceable case-of-the-week in s1 to undifferentiated arc-plot mush in s2...

like i know the fandom likes to wank eternally about Ward, but he was at most a moderately entertaining symptom of a show that never met a jackboot it didn't want to fellate sloppy style, yet lacked the skill to even make a point except by flinging ever-more-ludicrous strawmen at the screen. its tragedy was always that the characters were just likeable enough to make you wanna scoop them up and find them a forever home on a show that was slightly less dogshit.

obviously different people watch shows for different reasons and get completely different things out of them; i assume AoS fans have their own aspects they're invested in, likely involving the characters and having very little to do with the show's politics. i'm not accusing them of anything except, like, dubious collective taste in character-centric flamewars. but i cannot watch it without going into a white-hot rage and wasting more words on it than it deserves, and my mid-2010s back catalog of stupid fucking hills to die on includes "my reasons for finding this show rancid may not be relevant to your viewing priorities, but they are an unassailably fucking valid reading of those first couple of seasons."

#untagged/unrebloggable because i don't foresee my opinions of s1-2 ever changing and have no desire to join AoS fandom's local food fights