#i dont have anything in mind yet but i have the semblance of an idea... its budding but i dont have it refined in the dome... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starswallowingsea · 1 year

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just calling this one himeru comes up with a song theme. no i dont understand the lyrics in the sample i'm just trying to write because i need to stretch my muscles

word count: 950

HiMERU tapped his notebook with the tip of his pencil. Anzu had told him he needed to come up with some ideas for his solo song (and that he couldn’t use any of his old songs as a cheap cop-out) so here he was, in the garden with an empty cup of coffee and a blank notepad. A few pieces of paper were crumpled up on the table, some scribbles peaking through the wrinkles. Suddenly HiMERU understood why Leo had an endless trail of paper following him around all the time.

This was more difficult than he had imagined it to be. Who was HiMERU? Who was he behind the mask he wore every day? Even when he was younger, what had his interests been? He checked his phone, which had been opened to his music player with another idol’s solo song playing from the speaker, and saw that his battery was almost dead. He still had to visit the hospital today and it was only four in the afternoon. He dug through his bag for a spare charger, but where would he plug it into? He was outside and didn’t particularly feel like going in quite yet, and he didn’t want to leave his phone unattended either.

He could plug it in during rehearsal later, probably. Rinne typically used his own phone to sync with the bluetooth speaker, so it would be fine. Until then, he’d have to be careful to not let it die.

HiMERU stood up and stretched. It wasn’t a good idea to just sit around either, and maybe taking a lap around the garden would help clear his mind. The flowers were just about to bloom, and maybe he’d get some inspiration from that. Couldn’t hurt anyway.

He closed his eyes and let the wind clear his mind. When he opened them again it was like something had been lifted, though he still didn’t know what to write about. It didn’t have to be a full song, just some ideas for lyrics, maybe a verse or chorus, but nothing was clicking. Nobody wants to listen to a song about perfection, and that was what HiMERU as an idol really encapsulated. He tried to be kind and personable to fans, but that also wasn’t exactly a thrilling song theme either.

Great songs needed a focus, and HiMERU was anything but today. Rehearsal was in less than an hour and he would be heading straight to the hospital before trying to do some semblance of a nightly routine before going to bed at 10 o’clock sharp like he did most days.

He opened his eyes again and took a look around at the flowers. Some were still struggling to open but many were in full bloom in a rainbow of colors. Roses, tulips, plum and cherry blossoms, wisterias growing up the side of the greenhouse. He took a deep breath and let his mind calm down again.

A small patch of blue flowers caught his eye tucked away near one of the plum blossom trees. He walked over and knelt down next to them, noting the small sign that denoted them as forget-me-nots. Flowers of love that matched his, well, Kaname’s color palette on stage. The soft blues would compliment him well in a photoshoot and it would be excellent fan service.

But HiMERU, the man behind the mask, wanted to take one of the flowers and press it so he could give it to Kaname. It would last longer if it was pressed in the pages of one of his favorite books, and maybe he’d be able to connect with his younger half-brother with it when he woke up. He plucked the stem of a flower between his fingers and twirled it gently.

Look at me, hold me tight, it seemed to say to him. Look at me and hold me tight, don’t let go no matter how hard the world tries to separate us.

Typically the flower represented romantic love, and he had seen some of the other idols put it in their bouquets to their…friends (it was an open secret that many of the idols were dating each other, but nobody dared spoke of it to the media because it would only come back to bite them down the line). But when he pictured Kaname with the flowers, all he wanted to do was pull the other boy into a hug and never let him go, never let him fall into something so dangerous again.

Maybe he was being a little overprotective thinking like that, but he had been in stable condition for over a year at this point with no signs of waking up any time soon. HiMERU was not a spiritual person, but he had spent countless nights praying to whatever god or spirit was out there that Kaname would wake up.

He thought forget-me-nots encapsulated Kaname perfectly.

He plucked a second flower, one for each of them, and went back to his notepad. He scribbled down some notes, a few lines that had come to mind, and then checked his phone again. Just enough time to make it to practice if he left now.

He grabbed his bag and gently tucked the flowers in his jacket pocket. He’d find one of his detective novels and press the flowers in it later.

He must have had a noticeable uptick in his mood, as all three of his other unit members had commented on his good mood while he plugged his phone into the wall. He told them it was nothing, but spared a soft smile as he fingered the flowers in his pocket before returning to the group and beginning their stretches.

#shay speaks #shay writes #im not gonna main tag this one i feel my migraine coming back but eh #feel free to reblog it anyway #i might do a little series of these for alkakurei as we get teasers for their solos idk yet #would people be interested in that? i might make that a little collection on ao3 or smth #i'll probably touch this up before then obviously this isjust like. first draft wrote this in an hour

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derekscorner · 1 year

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KH Fandom Miscommunication

Come, sit, let’s have a serious look over this. Don’t you find it jarring that a series based in Disney magic only ever spawns talks of echoed opinions or fierce talks of hate?

We all have fell pray to it and I’d go as far as to say I’ve had a very bad stint in it in previous years. You can’t say you like something without a swarm of hate on why you’re wrong nor can you criticize it’s writing without being told you’re wrong.

And before someone takes time to screenshot an old post of me during my awful faze or one of my meme/jokey posts let’s just take a moment to sit and really think about this conundrum.

I criticize KH all the time yet I keep posting things because most of my longer posts are a critical talk about why I dislike something. I don’t generally expect responses but I still throw them into the void to get them off my mind. (like this one)

When I do this I rarely get responses and when I do it’s just short echoed replies or just simple replies about why I am wrong. Which some topics dont really leave room for longer responses but the point is I dont usually see people on any site give a genuine answer from critical thought.

For example, if I asked you why you liked KH Days or it’s leads I’ll usually get a response of some sort of head-canon. If I’m lucky, a short response like “I find them cute and/or tragic”.

To some extent that simple feeling is fine as an answer but if someone is going to debate with me (because subjective does not seem to exist in the fandom vocabulary) don’t tell me you think they’re expertly written because of what ideals you push onto that character.

The most recent example was someone trying to discuss with me what sexuality they put on Xion which baffled me. I wont name the person, they were just being nice, but this idea still baffled me. Why? Because:

1) Xion has the body of a 14 year old with the mental experience of one year.

Her initial body didn’t even have a true face. So it’s very hard for me to imagine she’d have any semblance of that aspect of life figured out. One day she might but I highly doubt she does at this moment in time.

She’s lucky she even got a body back to experience life beyond her initial year.

2) When I ask what you like about so and so from Kingdom Hearts I want to know what, within the written story, that this character experienced, made you think that way.

Head-canon, lord forbid fanon, is something we all have but what you saw online or added in your head isn’t from the actual story. It’s not a factor when giving critical thought to the writing.

Even I will reblog Xion fan art or manga panels despite hating the DS game Days because the manga and artists add something the games do not. It’s drawn/done well and I’ll reblog it but that won’t be a positive point I add to my view of the game itself.

3) And the final issue this causes is admission. You’re telling me that you only liked this thing after adding ideas you liked to that thing.

That’s an indirect admission on your part, to me, that your initial take on the story wasn’t as positive as you remember it. You’re having to support your opinion with added fluff not found in that story to begin with.

The best example of this is Terra. I’ll make jokes but at the end of the day Terra and the BBS cast is given writing that makes their intelligence questionable.

Yes, you can infer or speculate that Terra’s trusting nature is due to his sheltered life but Terra himself never hints this. The writing doesn’t have to tell me verbatim that he is too trusting. If anything show is better than telling but do keep in mind that the story lacking this nuance is what adds to the “terra is stupid” view.

His initial mistake with Maleficent is understandable. That’s the first mission. It’s entirely possible he’s naïve but I won’t get that impression when Terra rarely feels like he learns from his misadventures.

And this is me giving a realistic look at Terra. I can’t speak highly of his middle story but his initial mistake and the death of Eraqus are two aspects in his story that’s actually done decent and makes his actions shortly after believable.

The Issue

If you’re still reading then you likely think I’ve rambled into a tangent but no. I mentioned these things because that’s something I expect to see when I hear someone telling me why they love or hate something KH related.

You think I’m wrong about Terra? Okay then tell me why based on what you saw in BBS. I may not agree but I’ll respect critical thinking.

You think I’m right about Xion? Fine, tell me why you agree. Don’t just respond with “lol Nomura sucks ass remove him from office”. I may not necessarily disagree with your sentiment but I will not accept that as a point about why you, or me, are right about Xion compared to someone who likes her character.

Saying “nomura sucks” doesn’t tell me why you disliked Xion. I can tell you why I didn’t in long or short form but it’ll be based on the Days game I experienced. I will also always end any Xion criticism (a serious one mind you) with the undertone that I liked the manga.

I genuinely love the personality and humor the Kh manga gives the cast because I feel the games and their writing do not add the same level of humanity to them. This does not make my issues with the game writing better but rather gives me an example of how good it could be.

And I expect this civil thought in turn. If you want to joke I’ll shoot the shit with you all day but if you’re wanting a serious talk you’ll find yourself muted or losing my participation the moment you drop some tribalism like “it sucks and you’re wrong because Nomura sucks” or “you’re wrong. you’re just a hater that should quit playing the game if you hate it”.

Such responses aren’t responses. What they are is childish anger because you feel personally slighted. Acting this way doesn’t fix anything and it’ll only pollute the area you hoped to discuss it with others in.

You can’t even say “Kingdom Hearts” on twitter or a forum without a flood of why Kh3 was written by God himself or why it was so bad it should cost an old Japanese man his job.

Worse, you risk the chance of running away everyone but the five who agree with every word you say which doesn’t help you grow as a person. That just builds a bucket that you’re shouting into and hearing your echo shout back.

It’s all sad to watch and it’s even sadder knowing I was no better for it ages back. I even risk it now because I genuinely get annoyed when any level of thought is brushed off by someone just saying I hate so and so and replying constantly hoping for a conflict.

We all fall victim to it and it is just so very sad....it also makes me wonder if our generation and later is losing the capacity for critical thought thanks to social media and the internet but that’s a topic all it’s own.

Bye now. 8D

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #kh4 #kingdom hearts missing link #khtangent

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bridgyrose · 2 years

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Neptune overcomes his fear of water to save Jaune from drowning, and they have a dramatic kiss at the end.

“Oh come on Nep, the water isnt that bad,” Jaune said as he lowered himself into the pool the apartment complex owned. The warm air rushed against his wet skin as he waded deeper. “And you dont even have to get to the deep end, you can stay there in the shallows.”

“Yeah, I know, but I… I’m not going in.” Neptune moved a bit away from the pool and sat down on a chair to watch Jaune. “Besides, its after dark and the pool is supposed to be closed.”

“And I told you that we’ll be fine.”

Neptune sighed and kept an eye on his boyfriend as he swam. He always hated the idea of swimming, and swimming at night just made his skin crawl. Especially with a semblance like his. He sat back and closed his eyes to get the water out of his mind. “If you say so.”

Silence met his ears and he opened his eyes once more. “Jaune?”

Neptune made his way over to the pool and hesitated when he saw Jaune under the water and no bubbles coming up to the surface. He started to panic and paced a bit before he looked into the water. Every part of his being was telling him this was a terrible plan, yet he never noticed when he jumped into the water. He swam down to Jaune and used his semblance to put a bubble of water around him to move him to the surface.

Jaune took a deep breath once he broke the surface and coughed out a bit of water. He felt himself get dragged to the poolside and took a couple shaky breaths. “Nep?”

“I told you to be careful! Do you know how much you worried me?”

“You… saved me.”

Neptune sighed and nodded, wet hair still dripping over Jaune. “Y-yeah, I did. Just… please dont drown on me again.”

Jaune smiled a bit. “Does this mean you’re not scared of water anymore?”

“I dont think I’m completely over it, but… it does mean I’ll stick with you in the pool.” Neptune smiled and kissed Jaune. “Just the shallow end.”

Jaune pulled Neptune down into another kiss and smiled. “I wont push you for anything further.”

#rwby #jaune arc #neptune vasilias #drabbles #jaune x neptune #noah's arc #he's still not completely over his fear #but he took a giant step forward #he's mostly just terrified of his semblance

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ellsbclls · 3 years

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you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

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amberofembers · 3 years

Text

I am tired (and I am yours)

A/N: This angsty fic is brought to you by a party of one by brandi carlile induced breakdown. buckle up and i hope you enjoy the read! (wc: 3.3k)

ao3

The car cruised along a quiet road. The sky was tinted a featureless dark blue as night enveloped the grey skies of the day. It was a silent car ride home from the grocery store, a trip that neither of them wanted to take, but takeout could only sustain them for so long.

Andrew stared blankly at the winding tarmac road ahead of them, one hand on the steering wheel and the other kept on his lap. She opted to look out of the window at the blur of trees and houses whizzing by. Silences like these were thick, impermeable. Saying anything would feel like a strange interjection and it had already taken enough energy out of her seeing him follow her begrudgingly on this grocery trip.

The car pulled up to the gravel driveway, stopping with a jerk. They sat in complete silence for a few seconds, the engine whirring in the background. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye - nothing. With a quiet sigh, she got out of the car, forcefully opening the boot. There were three large paper bags stuffed messily in the tight space, their contents threatening to spill out.

The only task you had to do and you couldn’t even do it half-decently. She bit the insides of her cheeks to stop her from saying anything she would regret. For just a moment, the sharp teeth pressing down on the slick flesh of her mouth provided a distraction from the frustrating situation at hand.

It had been this way for more than a week now, each day making her closer and closer to snapping, but she couldn’t snap at him; he had done nothing to deserve it. He’d driven them to the grocery shop, he’d placed the bags in the boot like she’d told him to. But he’d been apathetic at best, distant and unaware most of the time.

“Not there,” she said with a touch of scorn, pointing at the countertop, “put it in front of the fridge, there’s meat in there.” Is this your first time living in this house? She wanted to add.

He nodded and complied, placing the paper bag on the floor in front of the fridge. He stood there for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could do to help out. His hands hovered over the bags, unsure of what to do. It was obvious to him that she was mad, he just couldn't think of the reason why.

“I don’t need an audience,” she said, her back facing him as she placed various food items on the cabinet shelves. She stood on her tiptoes, pushing the jar of pasta sauce into place on the top shelf.

“Let me help,” he said, the paper bag rustling as he reached in to get other items out. Spinning around to face him, she grabbed his arm abruptly. “I don’t need any help,” she stated plainly.

“O-okay,” he stuttered, the sudden harsh movement and blunt attitude startling him slightly.

Shit. Too mean. She wasn’t proud of it, how her anger took over her in that moment. But it had been there all along, slowly building in the pit of her stomach.

Andrew walked away into the living room, since it seemed like stepping away from her was the best option. As he moved away, he heard her voice from the kitchen, “Can you at least take your shoes off? The carpet just got cleaned, for god's sakes.” He was nowhere near the carpet.

“I’m not stepping on the carpet,” he retorted, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible, “and my shoes are off.” He turned around to face her. She looked at him through furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been mad at me the whole day,” he began slowly, “did I do anything?”

“A day!” A small laugh escaped her lips as she continued, her voice laced in sarcasm, “and you’ve just realised that today?”

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing,” she brushed it off nonchalantly. Nonchalant, just like you’ve been, she thought.

Andrew wasn’t one for confrontation. In fact, he’d try to avoid it at all costs, but he pushed through this time.

“Well, obviously it’s not nothing, judging by the way you’re acting.” He said with a voice firmer than usual.

“The way I’m acting?” the bitter words rolled off her tongue almost immediately.

“Wh-”

“Have you even considered how you’ve been acting lately?” She cut him off, her voice rising in volume.

She looked at him directly in the eye, her fists clenched knuckle-white.

His eyes darted from her to the ground and back to her again. “I can’t read your mind,” he said curtly. “So no,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, pulling it back tight before letting it cascade in a mess around his head, “I don't know how I’ve been acting.”

“When’s the last time we had a conversation since you came back from London?”

“We’re speaking right now,” he snapped back in frustration.

“This has nothing to do with London...” he started then paused. “And you told me to go there. It wasn't even my idea!”

“It was a suggestion so you’d stop moping around at home, I didn’t ask you to go there and disappear!” Her voice strained as it reached volumes she hadn’t realised existed.

“I was working! You can't expect me to be talking to you all the time!” He retorted. Her face fell immediately.

“Working? Andrew, really?” She sounded almost incredulous.

“Yes, working! I don’t –”

“Any other lies to tell me?” She hissed through clenched teeth.

“What–”

“I asked Alex about what you were doing,” she said, rubbing her temples as she spoke, “he said you were with friends.”

“Why’d you have to go through Alex?”, He snarled, “It’s like you don’t even trust me!”

“Well, I don’t, Andrew! Because you can't just tell me you're working and then– and then ignore my texts and calls for a whole week when you’re not even fucking working!” Her cheeks started to flush a deep red as she rasped a near-scream, her eyes searching his for some semblance of an explanation.

“It was one night! One night that I went out with friends,” His hands flew up in the air as he gesticulated, “What, I can't even catch up with friends now?”

“It’s not about that, you're not listening to me!” Adrenaline coursed through her veins and her body buzzed with anger. Gripping the countertop for stability, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I do not care what you do in London,” She said, the firmness in her voice wavering slightly, “I just want to know what the radio silence was for.”

“I told you, I was busy.” He said, his tone ice cold. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Look, I’m tired. Can we handle this tomorrow?”

“You're tired?!”

“I’m the one breaking my fucking back over here. And you just take, and take– ” Her voice cracked as she croaked out the last few words, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She clenched her jaw in desperation, trying to hold back those tears. His tongue fell silent.

The room quietened for a moment. Her chest heaved up and down, her heart beating erratically against her ribs. He stood opposite her, wringing his hands. His eyes were fixed steadily on the ground; he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly.

“Well then fucking show it!” The room filled with noise yet again as she let out something between a sob and a shout. “Don't come home and ignore me! Or avoid me or– or whatever the fuck you're doing!”

“Because it feels like months since we’ve had an actual conversation. and when you're here it's like your head is in a completely different place!” Words escaped her lips in an exasperated flurry. All the unsaid words and quiet car rides of the past week seemed to have cumulated to this.

“Look at me,” She ordered. His head remained bowed downwards. “Andrew, look at me.” She repeated, voice softening this time around.

“I’m sorry– I really am. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what I was even thinking but fuck I'm sorry.” He said in a single breath. He reached out to grasp her hand, but she pulled away. His hand was left in the space between them, frozen in motion. His heart dropped to the depths of his stomach.

“I’m fucking tired, Andrew.”

“What– what do you mean?”

“I don't know how much more I can take. Of all this, of... ” She trailed off. Each word sunk deeper and deeper into his chest.

“If you leave me, I don’t know what I’d do. We can't– we—”, his words distraughtly pieced into a plea.

She cut him off, tears steadily streaking down her face. "I am yours, Andrew. You know that, but right now…” She choked out, “I- I don't know if you're mine."

“I am yours!” He insisted, taking a step towards her, closing up the distance between their bodies. Instead of leaning into the familiarity of his warmth, she took a step back, shaking her head. “Andrew, I- I can’t…” She barely managed.

As she backed away, she knocked into the cabinet behind her. Just as protest was about to escape his lips, a loud crash silenced the both of them. It was a slow motion moment for Andrew as he saw the jar of pasta sauce fall from the shelf, narrowly missing her shoulder. The ground was stained red with sauce, shards of glass embedded deep among the red.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, jumping away from the mess of broken glass. The crimson sauce had splattered onto the bottom drawers as well as her pants. The scene looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Jesus!” in a slight state of shock, he asked, “are you hurt?” She shook her head.

He reached down to pick up the largest shard of glass sticking out from the spilled sauce.

“Stop. Dont.”

“Let me help you clean this up,” he persisted as he picked the piece of glass up.

“Andrew, I told you to stop.”

He looked up from where he kneeled on the ground. “This mess… I’ll h-”

“Can you leave? Please just- please just leave…” She strained, her voice cracking.

“But I-”

“Please…” she whispered. Her head was turned away from his, a single hand clasped over her mouth to prevent sobs from escaping. His heart broke at the sight.

More apologies were at the tip of his tongue, inches away from tumbling out, but he couldn't bring himself to say any more. Fearing that it would sound like nothing but empty words, he slipped out of the front door. It took every fibre of his being for him not to turn back, but seeing her hurt like this stung just as much as leaving her did.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he turned his back away, taking quiet steps towards the front door. His movement was so quiet that only the jingling keys and closing door could be heard.

Once out the front door, his footsteps quickened. He pulled open the car door with a force that shook the entire vehicle and plopped into the driver’s seat. Leave, she had said. So he did, but now, he didn't know where to go.

Andrew sat motionless in the driver’s seat. He could hear the hum of his blood flowing through his veins, the quick yet steady rhythm of his heartbeat filling the silence. He tried to focus on breathing, but his mind couldn't help but drift back to her. The image of her head buried in her hands, shoulders jerking up and down as she took shuddering breaths seared deep into his mind.

Without much thought, he revved the engine and headed towards the only place he knew would welcome him with open arms, unconditionally.

He pulled over where the road leading to the beach ended. No other cars were parked and the beach was completely empty. The sharp scent of salt water hit him first, followed by the cool, moist land breeze as he stepped out of the car that seemed to edge him towards the water.

The silence of the night was disrupted only by the rhythmic crashing of waves on the shore. His thoughts, however, couldn't be further from the calm of the night sea.

He never meant to hurt her. Truthfully, he’d felt it coming, and so when she suggested taking the trip to London, he figured it was the easiest way to get away from all the tension building back home. Catching up with friends and burying himself in work were all familiar and comfortable sensations. Conflict, on the other hand, was unfamiliar territory, and escaping that seemed like the best option to him. He didn't want to ruin anything between them, and he thought that time and distance would ease some tension, but maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way.

Leaving for London and labelling it as an “escape” in his mind was the first mistake. Placing his phone on “do not disturb” mode and disappearing into the studio for hours on end was the second. Then, grabbing drinks with friends led to bad drunk decisions - the third.

“You gonna get that, man? Been going off all night,” His friend gestured towards his ringing phone lit up with her name.

“Fuck, I’ll handle it when I get back,” he remembered leaning over to shout in his friend’s ear to be heard over the loud chatter of the pub, or maybe it was because he was drunk - perhaps both. Either way, he’d turned his phone over facedown on the table for the rest of the evening.

He sat on a large rock facing the sea, kicking the pebbles beneath him. He gazed at the ripples formed by the undulating waves far out in the sea, then focused on the thin layer of foam on the edge of the shore that reflected the moonlight almost entirely, causing an ethereal silver glow along the shoreline.

I don't know if you're mine. Her shaky voice echoed in his mind.

I am yours, He wanted to scream out to the sea, or to anyone who would listen. I am yours, he wanted to affirm so unreservedly that it would be known by the most distant of stars. I am yours, he yearned to whisper to her as he breathed in her scent and felt her skin on his.

Some time had passed since Andrew left the house. 15 minutes? 30 minutes? She couldn't tell.

Once he left, the onslaught of tears hit. She crumpled to the ground and cried in earnest. Her chest burned like it never had before as she struggled to take in breaths that quickly turned into hiccups. She refused to let the tears get any further than her jaw, angrily wiping them away as they trickled down her cheeks.

She’d only just managed to get up from the frozen position she maintained, crouched on the kitchen floor. Pushing herself away from the cabinet drawer that she was leaning on, she grabbed the countertop and heaved her aching body up from the ground. She had clutched the bottom of her sweater so hard as she sobbed that it fell in a permanent wrinkle as she stood up.

The mess caused by the broken jar of sauce was still apparent in her peripheral vision, and she could more than use a distraction at this point.

Wiping the mucus that had collected at the dip above her upper lip, she leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water over her face. Lingering over the sink for a couple seconds, the tears and tap water became indiscernible as they dripped off her face.

With that, she patted her face dry with the same wrinkled sweater. She shuffled about the house, drained of all energy as she cleaned up the mess with robotic movements. Conscious enough to handle the broken glass with care but too spent to wipe away every speck of red on the floor and cabinet doors, she did the bare minimum of cleaning and left the rest of the groceries in the bags.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. She was fully aware of his tendency to detach from everything when faced with uncomfortable situations. She thought she was prepared for it, for the silence and the coldness, but it was harder on her than she’d expected.

She climbed into the bed, not bothering to change into something more comfortable. They’ve never had an argument this explosive before. She had half expected him to stay in the driveway but her heart was hit with a sharp pang of pain when she heard the sound of the car starting up.

She wondered where he could’ve gone at this hour of the night, but she was too tired to think straight or feel anything anymore. She drifted in and out of consciousness as the events of the evening replayed in her dazed mind, spliced haphazardly together into a confusing jumble of screams and tears. It was as if she was a spectator to her feelings, too numb to experience them. Still, her head pounded with an unrelenting headache. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing for sleep to wrap her in its comforting arms.

The front door creaked softly as he pushed it open apprehensively, as if to inform her of his presence in the house.

He wondered if she was still awake, if she had waited up for him. Taking one look around the kitchen area, he noticed the still bagged groceries left on the floor, the cabinet drawers left open and oil smears on the ground. A rush of panic raced through his mind.

Scanning the empty front room for her presence, he padded around with caution. The house was eerily quiet, not that it hadn’t been silent before, but this time silence hung in the air with unanswered questions and unresolved issues. It was far from the comfortable silence they were used to.

He stalked up the stairs, heart pounding with each step towards the landing. He pushed the bedroom door open enough to stick his head in.

His eyes drifted to where her body lay on the bed. She was curled up beneath the sheets, faced away from the door. She remained strictly on her side of the bed, leaving his side tidily made.

He moved towards her instinctively, without much control over his limbs. He climbed on top of the sheets and waited for a response from her. Not prepared for any reaction in particular, he froze when she stirred in her sleep. His breathing quickened as she rolled on her back to face him.

She felt the dip in the bed before she’d fully awakened. Then, she heard his breathing. He didn’t know, but she was taking in breaths just as deep as his.

Her eyes drifted to his, and it was over.

His hand laid upon her face in a rough caress. He scanned her face for any sign of contempt but all he saw were tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His body burned with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice raspy with disuse.

All the conflict, though unresolved, seemed miniscule at this moment. Her breathing softened, as did her gaze. She placed a hand over his, giving him a small nod. The touch, ever gentle and affirmatory, eased his racing mind.

“I am yours,” he whispered once, but once wasn’t enough.

He shifted closer to her, his hand moving from her cheek to the back of her head. Gently resting his forehead on hers, he whispered a second, third time - I am yours.

#hozier #hozier imagine #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier fic #angst

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roseworth · 3 years

Text

mind trap one shot :^)

heyo here's a little bit of mind trap angst just because im bored idk

honestly theres almost no context to this, basically i just wanted him to be controlled by the mind trap lol. the reason he can be controlled is that as a member of the royal bloodline of the dark kingdom hes automatically sworn to the moonstone (tbh i didnt put a lot of thought into it but neither did the writers when they wrote the mind trap so its fine lol)

(ps im gonna be real with you guys i dont really know the difference between a drabble, a ficlet, and a oneshot. i was gonna call this a ficlet but i was scared of being wrong so i figured oneshot is the safest option)

word count: 1873

characters: eugene & rapunzel

description: Eugene gets taken over by the Mind Trap. Rapunzel needs to find a way to get him back before it’s too late.

note: this takes place sometime during plus est en vous. theyre in the throne room alone. idk just dont think about it too hard

Everything seemed to stop for a moment. Rapunzel felt like her body was frozen in place as Eugene turned around, his eyes glowing electric blue.

“Eugene?” she whispered hesitantly as he stepped closer. Something in her brain was telling her to back away, but it was like her feet were frozen to the ground. He took another step closer and drew his sword.

She released her hair from her braid and held it up just in time to block his sword from hitting her. He glared at her wordlessly and went to swing again, which she once again blocked.

“Eugene, I- I don’t know what to- you- how…” she stuttered helplessly as she started to stumble backwards. His gaze didn’t change at all.

“Tell you what,” he said finally, crossing his arms. “If you give up now, I’ll give you a quick and painless death.”

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she shook her head. “I won’t give up, you know that.”

He smirked. “I know, but it was worth a shot.”

This made her feel even worse. She couldn’t even tell herself that he didn’t know her or didn’t recognize her. Now she knew that he still remembered her even as he was attacking her.

Maybe that means there’s a chance to get through to him, she thought, but quickly shoved it away. She didn’t want to bother getting her hopes up like that while he was still trying to hurt her.

She didn’t really know anything about the Mind Trap or how to free someone from it. Heck, she didn’t even know why Eugene was being controlled by it, but she didn’t exactly have the opportunity to figure that out right now.

She dodged another attack from him and backed away to put distance in between the two of them, trying to think of some semblance of a plan. She couldn’t keep blocking and dodging him forever, but there was no way she could let herself even try to hurt him. The Mind Trap was still all the way in Cassandra’s tower, and she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to get out of the castle, let alone all the way to the tower.

“Aw, Sunshine, I’m almost disappointed,” he sneered. The nickname that she normally loved now felt like a punch in the gut as he said it. “I’ve seen you do better than this. I mean, come on, you’ve hit me with your frying pan more times normally than you are now.” She didn’t respond as she brought up her hair to block yet another one of his hits.

Even if she did fight back, there was no way she could win. She assumed they might be evenly matched ordinarily, but ordinarily he wasn’t fighting to kill.

Thinking about that made her feel almost nauseous. The person she loved more than anything else was now trying to kill her (or at least being used as a vessel to kill her).

“One of us is going to have to stop eventually,” he remarked. His voice had the cadence of a joke, but his expression said otherwise.

“And I’ve never been one to give up,” Rapunzel retorted.

“I know. I think under normal circumstances I would like that about you. Right now, though, it’s already getting to be a pain.”

It felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest the more he said things like that. It felt like he was already killing her knowing that something in him recognized her right now and still chose to attack. Not chose, she reminded herself. He has no control over this.

Looking into his glowing blue eyes, she thought about the way they usually were. His warm brown eyes and his soft expressions seemed like a distant memory compared to what was staring back at her now.

Just moments ago she had kissed him, and somewhere in the back of her mind wondered if that had been the last time she ever would. “No,” she whispered aloud. That wouldn’t be the last, she could fix this.

She just needed a plan. The Mind Trap reacted to the Moonstone, and she had the power of the Sundrop, there had to be something she could do. Worth a shot.

Her eyes fell shut as she channeled the Sundrop’s power. There was a burst of light around her as her hair lit up, causing a wave of energy.

She opened her eyes to see Eugene had been knocked to the floor. She wanted to run to him, but opted to keep her distance. She watched as he sat up and rubbed his head, his eyes closed.

And she felt her heart sink as he opened them and they were still just as blue as before.

“Nice to see you’re finally on the attack, Blondie,” he mocked. “Too bad it wasn’t enough.”

He lifted himself back onto his feet and scowled. She wished this would all stop. She wished everything could just go back to normal. She wanted so badly to hold out hope, but she was out of ideas.

“I’m not going to fight you,” she insisted, trying to ignore the way tears were starting to spill out of her eyes. She met his intense stare with one of her own as he moved towards her.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Sunshine,” he grinned coolly. Again, the usually affectionate nickname made her stomach churn as her tears continued to stream down her face. He stood inches away from her, neither of them moving. It was taking everything to keep herself from running towards him, looking for comfort that she wouldn’t find.

As he tightened his grip on his sword once more, she reached for her hair only to find out that he was pressing his foot on it, keeping it in place. He smirked at her. “You lost your defense,” he taunted callously. She tried to tug her hair away, but he was keeping a firm hold on it.

“Eugene…” she said quietly. Everything felt numb as she imagined him as the man he really was instead of the one who was about to kill her. The man who was always there for her no matter what happened. The man who had saved her in more ways than anyone could understand. That man wasn’t the person standing over her right now, lifting his sword above his head to strike.

“Eugene,” she said again, louder this time. “I don’t know if the real you can hear me, but I just need you to know that I know this isn’t you. And I love you so much.”

She thought for a moment that she saw him falter, but gave up her wishful thinking as the sword came closer to her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the love of her life was about to end it.

Nothing happened.

For a split second, she wondered why she was never hit.

Then she heard him cry out in pain.

Her eyes shot open to see that he was crumpled on the ground, his own sword stabbed through his leg. He pulled the sword out and threw it across the room.

“Eugene!” she yelled, dropping to her knees next to him. She looked at his face and was beyond relieved to be met with brown eyes looking back at her affectionately. “Eugene, you’re… you’re back,” she sighed happily, getting lost in his eyes and forgetting for a moment about his leg that was still bleeding out.

He tried to smile back at her, but it ended up as more of a grimace in pain, bringing both of them back into reality. “I just- I couldn’t let myself hurt you,” he said, holding back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

She wiped away her own tears and nodded. “I know, I know. It’s okay,” she reassured him, turning her attention back to his leg. He took his jacket off and wrapped it around the wound to try to stop the bleeding. She helped secure it in place and applied pressure on the wound, and he let out a groan as he instinctively tried to move away. She gave him an apologetic look, but continued pressing her hand down on his leg.

“Hey, look at me, it’s gonna be okay,” she soothed, putting her other hand on his cheek. She tried as hard as she could to distract him from the pain. He grabbed her hand and smiled gently.

“I’m so sorry, Sunshine, I couldn’t-”

“It’s okay, I understand. It was the Mind Trap, I know,” she whispered, though she felt a rush of relief in her chest after hearing him say “Sunshine” in a loving way again.

“I don’t know what happened, I just… I suddenly didn’t have control of my body. It was like I was feeling myself move and hearing myself talk and I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept trying to fight it, but…” he trailed off, his eyes starting to fill.

“Don’t worry about it, just focus on me, it’s gonna be okay,” she said as his entire body shuddered from another wave of pain.

“Rapunzel, you have to go,” he urged suddenly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold the Mind Trap off for.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, doing her best to stay strong and help him. It was taking all her effort not to break down right then, and she finally gave in. Before she could even think to try to stop herself, she was sobbing into Eugene’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “I won’t leave you,” she choked out. He squeezed her tighter towards him, his leg now numb to the pain.

“I can’t watch myself hurt you, Sunshine,” he said brokenly as he started to cry too. “It’ll be okay soon, I promise.”

Rapunzel lifted herself up and wiped her tears away. “It’ll be okay,” she repeated through tears. “I’m going to destroy the Mind Trap, then I’ll come right back here.”

He gave her a weak smile, then brought her closer to him again to kiss her. She closed her eyes as she kissed him, hoping that she would be able to keep her word and destroy it. Not just for Eugene, but for everyone. For the members of the Brotherhood that had lost control over their own thoughts. For the others that had loved ones being taken over.

She moved away slightly as she felt Eugene shift in her grasp. She opened her eyes, and her heart shattered as she was once again met with his glowing electric blue eyes. She stood up and backed away from him.

He made an effort to stand up and go after her, but his wounded leg wasn’t doing him any good. Not to mention, even if he could get up, his weapon was still on the other side of the room. He yelled at Rapunzel as she started to run away, but she did her best to tune out what she was saying. She only had one goal in mind now.

“I’ll be back,” she promised quietly, rubbing her eyes as she ran out of the castle. “It’s gonna be okay.”

#rapunzel as everything is falling apart: its gonna be fine :) im fine :)#this was gonna be like half the size it is but i got carried away #also i was gonna post this for fitzfriday but i was busy all day yesterday and couldnt edit it #and i didnt feel like waiting another week bc im impatient #so this is for fitzsaturday 😌#alright bye love u all #tangled #fanfic #my writing #new dream

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 3 years

Text

Walking Space Heater

Word Count: 2700+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Cinder Fall, Neopolitan, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black

Pairing: Cinder Fall/Neopolitan

Summary: Written (late) for Day 4 of @spice-cream-week 2021, “There Was Only One Bed.”

With the heat of both her Semblance and the Maiden powers, Cinder's body is much warmer than the average person's. So long as she's still by her side, Neo intends to take full advantage of that.

~0~

This is definitely a step down from the Haven dorms. Neo’s thumbs moved lightning-fast over the keyboard of her Scroll. Don’t they have ANY concept of personal space here?

She could say something about Roman’s excessive use of emojis. But looking at his messages, she could hear his laughter clearly in her head, and she had no problem with that.

wtm? you got stuck with a shitty roommate? I’ll come and get her for you idgaf

That elicited the breathy noises that were the closest Neo got to laughter. Truthfully, she probably wouldn’t have minded sharing a room much in and of itself. It might even have been fun to mess with Emerald and Mercury in their own space.

But no, she’d ended up with the only one that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Cinder Fall was calm, collected, and incredibly competent. Neo didn’t necessarily dislike her. She thought that they got along fairly well, in fact. But that didn’t mean that she trusted her.

Roman was content to stay in the dark about what exactly her ultimate design was beyond Beacon’s destruction, having already accepted the fact that they would be overwhelmed by it. It still gnawed at Neo, though. Thus far her only clues had been the couple private calls that Cinder had taken, and the way Haven’s headmaster cringed like a kicked puppy whenever he caught sight of her.

Sure, the man was jumpy enough in general, but Cinder — or, more accurately, whatever force had moved Cinder to the Academies — made him cower. Even Neo’s most devilish smile couldn’t do that.

She’s...not bad. She definitely likes me more than she likes you.

Now, did that really require five laughing emojis after I can live with that lol?

And

Neo’s thumb hovered over the screen. For the first time in several minutes, she glanced up from where she was curled up tightly on the covers of her bed.

Cinder was perfectly at ease on her own bed, leaning back against a stack of pillows with her Scroll open in front of her face. Still rifling through the records of all the Academy students, no doubt. Casting her great and bloody show, for which every little thing had to be perfect. It wasn’t enough that she was sending Emerald and Mercury out to run recon and collect as many relevant details about their players as possible. No, she had to study up herself for hours on end.

Neo was willing to play her own part, but it all seemed very boring to her. Certainly her interim leader could use a break. She returned her attention for one moment more to her Scroll:

I think she would be fun to play with.

Ignoring the several question marks sent in reply, Neo pocketed her Scroll and slipped off her bed. Moving soundlessly was one of the first skills she had ever had to master, and she still considered it her most important.

Cinder was still too engrossed in her research to notice as she crept across the carpet and climbed onto the other bed. Or maybe she just didn’t care enough to acknowledge her. She certainly didn’t look surprised when Neo’s head poked through the hole between her arms and her Scroll.

“Oh,” she said, smirking, in a tone that she might use with a stray cat that had come up to her in the street. “Hello there. Looking for some entertainment?”

Neo gave her her best strawberry-ice-cream smile, and scooted closer. From the meager rations of physical contact she meted out to Emerald, she wasn’t sure how much Cinder liked being touched, so she proceeded with care, little by little. It seemed to be acceptable: she stayed very still, but allowed Neo to settle down on her chest, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Or are you just lonely?”

Neo hummed thoughtfully, letting herself relax: not all the way, but just enough. This was nicer than she had expected, she had to admit. Cinder was dressed like she had been in the first round of the Vytal Festival: sleeveless jacket, long pants, and sarashi. Neo’s cheek rested mostly on bare skin, and though of course she had seen Cinder’s Semblance before (as well as the flames that didn’t quite seem to fit with it), it was much warmer than she had thought it would feel. Softer, too, with the scents of wood smoke and spicy perfume clinging to it.

“Well?”

Neo rolled lazily over onto her back, looking up at Cinder’s Scroll to see what she had been so busy scrutinizing. Hm. Several pictures of that Mistrali girl from the cereal commercials, accompanied by a passage about her Semblance which had been highlighted in a few places. There was one more tab open with an acronym on it, but that was it.

Nothing that could tell Neo anything about their situation that she hadn’t already guessed at. And what was more, absolutely nothing that could be more interesting to her temporary partner than her.

Clearly, Cinder could use a lesson on how to properly spend an evening. Dastardly planning, which seemed to be her only form of recreation, just wasn’t going to cut it.

So Neo helpfully reached up, laid her hands over Cinder’s, and pushed the Scroll shut for her. She put her pointer finger to the outside of her nose; her new teammates might not be picking up Valerian Sign Language particularly well, but she hoped the long, exaggerated twist away from her face coupled with a dramatic sigh got the message across equally well: Cinder, I am bored to tears.

Cinder tilted her head, puzzled but smiling. She slipped her Scroll into her pocket and wrapped an arm around Neo’s waist.

“Well, in that case, I’d be happy to give you some attention.”

Neo made as pleased a sound as she could muster up, and snuggled up to Cinder, as close as she could get. It might have been dark and cool outside, but she felt as if she were napping on a sunbeam. Rolling over to lay her head on Cinder’s chest, she could imagine that there was a powerfully burning fire inside it in place of a beating heart, whose heat was palpable, just beneath the skin.

She tried to look more sweetly smug than actually impressed, but gods, she had never felt anything like this.

Cinder held her tightly in both arms now, fingertips scratching lightly between her shoulder blades, and Neo nearly purred. Years of pulling back bowstrings had turned those arms wiry and oh so strong. All at once, she completely understood why Emerald was always trying to earn one of these rare hugs.

And speaking of which...

Neo wasn’t sure how long she spent in the lap of luxury, only that she felt like she might actually fall asleep in it, as toasty warm as it was. Cinder had switched from rubbing her back to stroking and playing with her hair, which, in her experience with other people, was a welcome first. But she was jolted back to full awareness when their dorm room door slammed angrily open.

Blinking, Neo lifted her head. She caught the lingering scents of jungle juice and sweat incoming, before she saw Emerald stalking inside, barely hanging onto her last scrap of patience. Mercury stumbled in after her, wearing a huge grin and mirrored shades that Neo was fairly certain did not belong to him.

Cinder smirked. “I was wondering when you two would be back. How did it go?”

Emerald forced a halfway convincing smile for her leader. “It was...interesting. Though not quite as informative as I was h—”

The smile froze on her face when she turned to look directly at Cinder, and saw Neo lounging in her lap like a spoiled cat.

Neo smirked, and signed, Party fun? With the reputation Vytal Festival house parties had, hopefully Emerald had gotten some attention as well.

“Oh, it was great!” Mercury shrugged off his jacket and pitched it into his and Emerald’s room, littering their carpet with brownie crumbs. “We saw a lot of everybody, didn’t we, Emmy?”

While Emerald tried to take a cue from Cinder and set him on fire with her eyes, Cinder herself just closed her Scroll with a soft laugh.

“Well, you can tell us all about it in the morning. We should all get some rest now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You got it, boss...”

Neo watched them slink into their room, where muffled bickering started up as soon as the door closed, but did not move until she felt a gentle pat on her thigh.

“You too, dear. Go on.”

Though she made a show of huffing about it, Neo got up off Cinder’s bed and went back across the room.

Her own bed felt cold and uninviting now. Catching up on the several missed texts from Roman (including but not limited to what do you mean by that lmao, hey Neo dont leave me out of the loop :), Neo tf are you doing to her O_o, NEO) did make her smile, but as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but wish that she didn’t have to return to being alone just yet.

~0~

This was not at all the solution to that problem that she had envisioned, but Neo knew very well how to deal with whatever life threw at her.

She had never been to Atlas, and while she had to roll her eyes at its decadence, she couldn’t say she hated the place. Cinder, on the other hand, never answered outright when Neo tried to ask if she had ever been here before, but every bitter hiss from her about Atlas elites that had not been asked for gave her a general idea. It had taken them a while to find a vacant apartment to squat in, especially considering that there was an entire chunk of the city that Cinder refused to even go near.

But now here they were, and it was empty around them and quiet outside. The blackout curtains shielded them from the city lights. In pitch darkness the two of them were curled up together in the place’s one bed.

Cinder had initially balked at the idea of sharing it, insisting that Neo take an extra blanket and find somewhere else to curl up. So barky with her orders these days, and so on edge, too. Neo was beginning to wonder how she had ever thought of this woman as calm and collected.

In any case, she didn’t see what her once-again partner’s problem was. She had invited Neo into her bed with her before, hadn’t she? Maybe not to sleep, but still. And she was far from squeamish; she wouldn’t make a fuss about the scarring and empty eye socket on full display. As such, she ignored the demand, and simply undressed, got under the covers, and gestured for Cinder to join her.

After some indignant spluttering, Cinder threw up her hands and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t come out until Neo had turned the lights off and laid there long enough that she might reasonably have fallen asleep. Even then, she slipped in quietly, gingerly, and stuck close to the edge of the bed.

Now, that just would not do. Atlas was much too cold for that kind of nonsense.

Neo rolled over under the blankets, feeling just as bold as last time, but exercising even more care, Cinder being so volatile lately. She went out of her way to be heard, so it wouldn’t startle Cinder to be touched. She knew her bedmate was awake: though she lay very still, her breathing was nowhere near relaxed enough for her to be asleep.

Cinder didn’t jump when she felt Neo wrap her arms around her waist, but she did go still as a statue.

“Neo,” she growled, low in her throat, “what are you doing? I’m not in the mood for—”

Neo nuzzled her bare shoulder in a way she hoped was reassuring, as she pressed up against her back. Fortunately for her, Cinder’s new arm was tightly bandaged up for the night, so she didn’t have to risk touching the awful thing. Only human skin, just as fiery warm as before. Even the wood smoke smell remained.

As had happened so often since the Fall of Beacon, Neo caught herself writing a text to Roman in her head, wryly telling him that he was right, she shouldn’t have thought so hard about where Cinder’s flames came from, because she would never in a million years have hit on the right answer.

She gave her head a shake, and resisted the urge to glance back at the bowler hat perched neatly on a bedpost. If she started thinking too hard about that, she would never get to sleep either. There would be time, when the sun came up, to consider some more whether the woman in her arms was the key to her revenge, or its target all along.

Right now, the darkness was peaceful and the blankets thick and soft around them, and the heat of their bodies grew more soporific every moment. Comfort was a rarity in both of their lives. They ought to savor it whenever it came their way.

Cinder let out a long, exasperated huff, clearly not sharing the opinion.

“Couldn’t you just hug a pillow?” she grumbled. But there was no bite in her voice.

Neo smiled against her skin, entwining her legs with Cinder’s. Now, she would have said, were her hands not occupied, where would be the fun in that?

“...Fine. Just don’t think you’re going to make this a regular thing.”

Oh, she absolutely was, so long as they were staying in the coldest part of the world and she was in the company of a walking space heater.

As such, Neo ignored the question and snuggled closer. She was trying her best to communicate “calm down and go to sleep” through body language alone, so to feel Cinder slowly but surely relaxing in her arms, eventually going limp, was deeply gratifying. Almost fascinating.

From nights spent in the Beacon dorm room and Mistrali inns, Neo already knew that Cinder talked in her sleep. Most of what she said was sluggish and toneless as well as nonsensical, but sometimes it was a series of fierce snaps or pained moans. It came as no surprise to Neo that when, just as she was starting to doze off herself, she was woken back up by her partner’s twitching and yelping.

“No...don’t take...I’m...!”

Neo sighed drowsily, and tightened her embrace, humming as soothingly as she could. Her inability to speak never really bothered her, but there were times like this when it didn’t exactly help her, either. At least she could keep Cinder from thrashing around and hurting one of them: if that arm decided to act up while its host was in distress, she had zero faith in the bandages to hold those claws back.

It’s okay, she thought, hoping that somehow it would get across, just relax, you’re all right...

Nightmares never lasted forever. Neo had woken with her stomach still in free fall from enough dreams of plummeting wildly through a Grimm-infested sky to know that. Still, she hoped that her attempts at calming had helped this one pass quickly. Cinder’s mumbling devolved into moans, then to frantic whimpers, then finally to something close to the restful breathing that Neo had almost fallen asleep to before.

Neo took a deep breath of her own. She was too tired to smile, but leaned in to press a kiss to the back of Cinder’s neck, the ends of her short hair tickling her nose. To her surprise, she felt a burn scar here, too: thin and faded, but winding around her neck like garrote wire. Somehow she didn't think that Ruby had done this. But she certainly wasn't going to ask who had. They weren't going to discuss any part of this in the morning.

So she kissed her neck once more, soft and just a bit more sincere, before closing her eyes again.

Good night.

#spicecreamweek2021 #cinder fall #neo politan #rwby neo #spice cream #RWBY #rwby8 #kaen's fics

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

pragma - part fourteen

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!reader

Warnings: just a lot of talk about being lonely and missing Frankie

A/N: This is another short chapter but it leads up to something we’ve all been waiting for. Maybe.

Summary: Dreams are all you have and they still aren’t good enough. Or are they?

pragma masterlist

How long has it been? Weeks? A month? Longer? You didn’t know. You had stopped paying attention to the days of the week once Frankie was gone. Time meant nothing and everything all at once. The days blended together. You cried most of the time, cried and prayed. Any other time you would have laughed at the idea of praying, but that felt like the only thing you had right now.

Some days, you stared at the door for minutes at a time waiting for Frankie to walk through. The day he left, you had sat there waiting for him to come back and say he couldn’t leave you, but he never did. He left and you were alone. So alone.

The first few nights he was gone, you didn’t sleep. How could you? You even tried wrapping yourself up in one of his shirts to get some semblance of him being there with you, but it wasn’t the same. His scent lingered but it wasn’t him. You longed to hear his voice, to feel him, to touch him and nothing was good enough. You could look at pictures of him all day, call his phone so you could hear his voice when it went to voice-mail, but nothing was enough.

One morning you even set out a plate and cup of coffee for him. When you realized what you had done, you broke down. You stared at his empty chair and cried. The empty plate and cup of coffee remained there for days because you couldn’t bring yourself to move it.

You caught yourself calling his name sometimes when you wanted to tell him something only to be reminded that he was gone.

On the nights when you couldn’t sleep—which were most of them—you would walk outside and get into his truck and just sit there. Sometimes you’d roll down the window and lean out to look at the moon while holding his dog tag. You’d trace over the letters of his name then kiss it wondering if he could feel you.

Some days you were angry. You were so angry with him for leaving you. You told yourself you’d give him an earful once he got back knowing damn well all you’d be able to do was run into his arms and cry.

When you did sleep, it almost always resulted in a nightmare or in you waking up afraid that something that happened to him. You swore you could feel his anger and pain. If you went too long without feeling anything, it made you worry.

You barely left the house and when you did you only walked down to the lake. That only made you miss him more. You went into town once but everything just made you think of him.

“Why did you leave?”

“Please come back.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

You knew you shouldn’t let someone have that kind of power over you. You had said so much when you found out he was going to South America. But he had that power and, lord, was it strong. He held your heart and soul in his hands.

The storm raging outside seemed to know exactly how you were feeling—the rain was your tears, the thunder could be either your heart pounding, and the lightning was the anger you felt, flashing here and there but never quite lasting. God knew you couldn’t stay angry at Frankie.

You don’t know why, but you opened the door and walked outside, letting the rain soak you. The thunder didn’t scare you neither did the lightning. That was until the lightning hit a tree that was a little too close for comfort. You ran back inside and…laughed. It was the first time you felt alive since Frankie left. You could imagine how angry he would’ve been if you had done that when he was here.

But he wasn’t here. He was far, far away. Too far away.

The water had turned cold long ago but you still sat in the bath, hugging your knees to your chest. You waited. Frankie would walk in and tell you how long you’d been in there then hold up a towel for you to step out into. He’d wrap it around you and hold you close because you started shivering.

“Are you sure you’re not part fish?” he would ask.

But for now, you were stepping out of the bath and grabbing your own towel, wrapping it around yourself. There was no one to hold you.

You dried yourself and grabbed one of his shirts to put on. You hardly wore any of your own shirts now that he was gone and you refused to wash anything he had worn before he left because it smelled like him. When you changed the sheets on your bed the other day, you took the pillowcase he slept on and smelled it—his scent was already fading and that made you uneasy. How long had it been?

Too long.

Too fucking long.

Today you heard a helicopter fly over and you perked up but you knew deep down there was no way.

You moved around the house in the same trance you had been in since he left—cleaning things that didn’t need cleaning, turning on the TV just for background noise, and sometimes you wrote. Some days you just slept. And you dreamt of him.

And you waited.

What were you waiting for?

For him, of course. Or were you waiting for someone to call and tell you the worst news? Either way, you just waited.

You walked to the fridge and opened it, trying to force yourself to find something to eat. His favorite beer was still in there, untouched, and they would stay that way until he returned.

You decided to eat a TV dinner—your desire for cooking had gone away along with Frankie. It was bland and boring but it was something and you knew Frankie would be happy to know that you had eaten something.

The rain pattered against the window as you stared at the TV not hearing or paying attention to anything. After a few more bites, you stood and threw the rest of the dinner in the trash. That was enough of that.

Something new you started to do was sleep downstairs on the couch. The house held many memories, but the bedroom was where it hit you the hardest and you just couldn’t sleep there without him anymore. You took your pillow and blanket and curled up with one of his hoodies on the couch. You buried your face in the hoodie and sighed. His woodsy, earthy scent had helped lull you to sleep even if it was only for a few hours.

You hoped you wouldn’t have nightmares. Hell, your life felt like a walking nightmare. You were used to being alone, but there was something about this kind of loneliness that hurt you to your very core.

Just close your eyes and try to sleep. Think of Frankie. Dream of Frankie. Dream that he is here with you.

Dream.

But that’s all that it ever was—a dream. You needed it to be real. You felt as though your life was hanging by a thread and on the end of that thread was Frankie. He was so far away that the thread was pulled to tight and was in danger of breaking. Better yet, it was like the fishing line that day he took you fishing and warned you not to pull too much because the tension could snap the line and you’d lose whatever was on the other end. That was Frankie. And that tension was becoming too much to bear.

Don’t snap. Don’t leave me.

“Don’t leave me,” you said out loud to no one. Maybe he would hear you. You eventually closed your eyes and gave into sleep that your body had been begging for.

In your dream, the front door opened and Frankie was standing there looking as though he’d never left. He smiled at you and you floated over to embrace him. God, he felt good. But you knew not to get too used to the feeling because when you woke up, this would be no more. He would be gone and you’d wake up alone.

So, you savored the feel of him while you could and, as always, he began to fade away but for some reason his voice still lingered. You called to him even though he was gone.

“I’m here, baby,” he said. “It’s me.”

You started crying knowing that when you woke up the only real thing about this dream would be your tears.

But then something or someone touched you and it felt all too real. Your mind was really doing a number on you tonight.

“Why are you sleeping down here?” the voice asked.

“I can’t sleep in the bed without my Frankie. Without you…”

“Open your eyes,” he whispered but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want him to go just yet.

“I can’t. You’ll leave me again.”

“I won’t. Open your eyes.” His gentle hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into his palm. He felt so real.

“Don’t leave me,” you cried.

“Never again. I promise.”

Should you take the chance and open your eyes? No. You couldn’t. This dream was a good one.

A kiss pressed to your cheek—so, so real. Frankie’s voice was so real, so close it was almost like…

You let your eyes open slowly and gasped. You had to still be dreaming. Your hand shook as you reached out to the handsome, clean-shaven face in front of you. That was real.

“Is it really you?” you cried.

“It’s me, baby. It’s your Frankie.”

[fifteen]

Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @tiffdawg @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x Reader #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #Triple Frontier #Pedro Pascal #headcanon

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estherthedragonprincess · 3 years

Text

Miraculous ladybug rant

Alright alright, I dont like getting in to "ship wars" or participating in ship culture or any of that nonsense

but here are my thoughts.

when master fu first gave Adrien and Marinette their respective kwamis he said that "they were meant for each other," and we all took it to mean Adrien and Marinette were meant for one another. However, im going to choose that it meant the kwamis and the kids were meant for each other, since that makes more sense then some random old dude shipping two preteens together. Another reason for this interpretation? because otherwise it is the author telling us something instead of showing us. In season one we were shown that Adrien and Marinette were kind people both with their own set of flaws, but Adrien hardly even talked to Marinette until towards the end of season 1 and there was never even the slightest bit of indication he thought of her as anything but a friend, if even that. So being out right told that "these two characters are my end game, even if they have no chemistry whatsoever, I created these two to be together so thats it, now just wait for them to get together." feels like a twist of fate that just feels forced.

So when the show introduces rivals to create some fabricated tension for the main couple (that still hasn't got much screen time to even be believable) you might think the main couple might start showing more initiative towards each other. Instead we have Kagami who Adrien actually shows interest towards. When she is in the episode they interact far more then Adrien and Marinette ever seem to and he encourages her to befriend his friends so they are closer. Marinette gets jealous sure, but... lets be honest, when it comes to Adrien, Marinette gets jealous of everyone. She is just as bad as Chloe, she's just nicer about it.

Then for Marinette we are introduced to Luka. A soft spoken, very mature guy. From day one Luka showed more interest in Marinette, connected with her quickly and SAW Marinette. He has already confessed to her and Marinette reciprocates but is hung up on the fantasy she has of Adrien Agreste.

So instead of tension to push the main couple towards each other, we are introduced to two very likable alternatives that both Marinette and Adrien show more interest towards then each other. And yet.... the author tweets out that the characters "disagree" with the viewers. As a writer myself, there are times I realize that the characters Ive created and wanted to be together just... arent going to be together. This certainly gets some readers riled up as they decided from chapter 1 who should be together and they get upset if it doesnt happen. but im not about forcing two people together just because its in high demand or if it was the original plan. When the characters themselves show interest in other people, or have minds of their own, then.... who am I as the author to force them to change just because I want them to? My job is to tell their story, not forcefully make them do what I want as if they are puppets. being told that (specifically) Luka and Marinette disagree with the idea of liking/dating each other and yet having the evidence in the writing itself that that isnt true. feels like the author themself is trying to force the characters to do what they want instead of letting the characters do what they want. (any good story allows characters to do what they want, the plot follows the characters, the characters dont follow the plot)

I know Adrien and Marinette's meeting was attempted to be played off as a version of enemies to lovers trope. but it didnt really work. there was no development for them to start liking each other, we got one scene with the umbrella in the rain that changed Marinette's mind about this kid she saw as a bully, but Adrien was just desperately trying to not be hated. He didnt like her, he wasnt trying to win her heart romantically. His actions only showed how bad his home life is when it comes to emotional support. Not any semblance of a kid being attracted to, interested in, or trying to win over the other person.

Im curious how future seasons will play out, but Id be lying if I said I was actually looking forward to them. I have a hard time sitting through episodes of MLB, in fact I tend to skip through most episodes because the majority of the writing makes me cringe. whenever it doesnt, I watch, which Ive found are the episodes Where Marinette is being herself and not freaking out over Adrien and not being jealous of anyone who so much as looks at Adrien. (writing this I suddenly wonder if Marinette is a yandere trope) And the episodes where characters interact with each other in believable, mature ways.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculous #ladybug #luka #adrien #marinette #kagami #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi

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unsympathetic-angst · 4 years

Note

Janus is actually pertrified of snakes. patton loves them to death. so Patton finds out and he mocks janus for his scales causing a panic attack and he just...locks himself in his room. for four months. when he comes out, his face is all scar tissue where the scales once were. and his fear of snakes is gone. now he fears patton. ((could you please write this for me? i dont have much writing skill myself and i would actually internally die you wrote this for me. you dont have to i promise-))

ive been wanting to do something like this and i finally have an excuse too awawaa,,, also plz dont die and fun fact u should write whatever u want. just have fun with it ^^ writing just takes practice

TW: U!Patton, physical abuse, verbal abuse, implied suicidal thoughts, scars, scalpel, implied/referenced panic attacks, cutting someone, crying, loss of breathe, weapons, slight victim blaming, let me know of other things to tag !

"I'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry"

Janus was reserved as he knew any sign of weakness would be used against him. He knew how predators would hunt down its prey till the small creature is too weak to run then the beast would pounce on it and uses everything it had on the poor thing. The deceitful side isn't aware of how Patton learns of his fear of snakes, but whatever mistake he made to let the information be known to the fatherly side would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Patton is cruel and revolting. He for being the moral side shows no moral code to his treatment of dark sides. It isn't a hidden secret but the more inhuman things Patton does is only for Janus to witness and bare. Janus despised this burden; the constantly forced to deal with his fear until he passes out from hyperventilation and continuously forcing himself to drag himself to the bathroom to heal the ripped off scales made him unbearably fatigued. It had been two months and Janus lost hope one month ago. Any form of begging or pleading was disregarded like trash so he stayed silent allowing for the moral side to play with him like a doll.

The snake side grudgingly wakes up depleted. He's only been awake for a few seconds and his mind is already begging for him to just let go. Perhaps then it would be easier than dealing with Patton. Janus shakes his head and gently placed a gloved hand over his eye, a small depressing smile forming as he recalls the only semblance of himself he was allowed to keep were his gloves. Janus pushes himself and a prominent weight of fatigue that crashes into him which causes him to stumble. He uses the wall to hold himself up while he trudges to the bathroom. He opens the sink and looks at the mirror grimacing at the reflection that made his stomach turn. Janus's face was much paler, frailer, and fewer scales. He gently swifts over the scars feeling the dry patch of healing skin. He feels filthy.

Janus isn't sure when he went back to bed, time was lost in this small, cold, empty room. The deceitful side unintentionally jumps at the sound of the door clicking. He internally hopes that it's another side but he should have realized there was no hope. The smile on Patton's face sends shiver's down Janus's spine.

"Evening Janus!" Patton smiles," hope you're having a good day, mines been tiring."

Janus doesn't speak he's learned not to.

"Ever since you've been gone Logan been more annoying! I love Logie but ugh, he just needs to shut up! He keeps trying to logic every situation as if he knows anything, perhaps a stay in here for a bit would teach him better," Patton says lowly with a maddening smile.

"Don't!" Janus utters," do bring Logan into this room."

Patton turns to face him with a shocked yet intrigued expression. He slowly moves to sit on the other bed and looks at the sheets as he spoke with venom," you know, Logan does ask about you a lot. I've told him you had a panic attack and chose to stay inside. He thinks Thomas being more honest is a bad idea, but what does he know."

"More than you," Janus hissed.

"Excuse me?" Patton replied.

Janus throws his gloved hands over his mouth as he internally curses. Patton being pissed was an understatement. His eyes burned with fury yet the calm exterior terrified Janus. He knew it'd be another terrible night.

"Gloves off Janus," Patton muttered.

He did as he was told. Patton moved to one of the snake cages and took out a snake. Janus grimaces knowing that the snake had a texture that made him nauseous and it didn't help that the snake had venom. While he couldn't die he knew Patton would force Janus through the symptoms.

"I want you to pet him," Patton commands.

It's a simple command but Janus deeply wants to deny it.

"Please Patton, I'm sorry. I did mean to upset you please I cant-"

"You can and you will if you want to make sure Remus and Logan stay out of this room," Patton spat.

He hasn't even started touching the snake and he's already crying. Patton snickers as he watches shaky fingers pet the small reptile.

"Amusing that your fear of snakes makes you this emotional," Patton spoke as Janus pulls his hand away.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry please I've learned my lesson," Janus please through shaky breathe.

He can barely breathe and his vision is going in and out. Janus is sure he'll pass out soon and he wants too, he's so tired but he knows what'll happen if he does. Patton hums to show he’s thinking," hm, well I suppose you have learned your lesson but I'm not done yet kiddo."

Patton gets up gently putting away the snake and heads to the bathroom. Janus groans knowing what's coming next. Patton comes with a scalpel and wipes.

"Stay still or I'll cut you," Patton says with an innocent tone, but the words worked.

Janus was still while he cried. He was slightly depersonalizing but he knew he'd feel it all. Patton gently wipes the scales. Janus holds in a breath and closes his eyes as he feels cold metal latching onto his skin.

———

Janus's return is a shock to everyone. His empty eyes and healed skin is sight for sore eyes, and how he shivers in room temperature indicates how frail he’s become.

"Janus is back!" Patton says warmly, wrapping his arms around the deceitful side.

"Patton what did you do to Janus for the last four months," Logan questions terrified.

"I just helped him a bit! He doesn't like snakes so I fixed that fear for him!" Patton answers letting Janus go. Remus quickly grabs Janus away from the moral side, shocked to see Janus gripping onto Remus tightly.

"You ripped off his scales you monster!" Roman yelled drawing out his sword.

Patton just shrugs," he made upset so I taught him a lesson."

His smile sent shivers down everyone's spine.

#unsympathetic patton #sympathetic janus #sympathetic logan #sympathetic remus #sympathetic roman #roman logan and remus make very small appearances #tw crying #tw verbal abuse #tw physical abuse #tw abuse #tw victim blaming #tw scars #tw scales #tw panic attack #tw suicidal thoughts #tw cutting someone #tw loss of breathe #lmk of other things to tag!#this is different from the prompt i just wanted to write hurt janus awawa

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urmomification · 3 years

Text

SWAG ANOTHER DREAM SMP AU FIC IDEA THAT ILL NEVER WRITE POG

this is a very long post please im so sorry my brain it just

(tw for like slight possession n shit)

(sorry its all jumbled i write all of these in discord to my friend and copy paste them here please if u have questions ask me im always willing to talk abt this shit please it haunts me)

(context: i saw a tiktok abt the hc that both dream and techno are gods of some sort bc theyre mentioned in the tales of the smp by karl a time traveller and my brain just ran w it)

going back to the techno and dream are gods thing right so dream is a vessel for the god dream xd (??? work in progress youll know what im talking about at some point its really funny tho uve def seen clips of it) and he was possessed?? by the god after the server started (when he started going from super friendly with everyone to control/power hungry) when he started sacrificing everything for power so no one could have power over him? that was the god making him do it bc the god was terrified of not being in control since theyd lost it all to techno in their past. thats why we never see dream and techno fight and why we see dream extend help and support to him at times as well as respecting his boundaries and such bc theyre scared of techno (again w the best of 10 duel reference, techno killed the god in a past life which is why the god has been forced to use a human vessel to get anything done on the mortal plane) but when something that powerful spends pretty much any amount of time in something mortal and mundane like a person, the host body starts to change (hence the mask) i like to think that the god would be akin to that of a biblically correct angel?? like the ones w multiple eyes n shit yk so after time things start to happen to normal dreams body he gets extra sets of eyes and he gets taller and overall his body seems just Too Small for whatevers inside of him and thats why he (hc) started wearing the mask in the first place he knew something was wrong w him but he didnt want anyone to know even tho they would most likely help him he was ashamed that he was different in the first place so he started wearing the mask once the other eyes showed up. and i think that the god would talk to dream similarly to how technos voices work yk? except its just the one voice instead of many many small ones. and again with the mask thing when he lost to tommy and they took him in, part of his mask broke to the point where u could see just a bit of the right side of his face but enough to see that it Wasnt Right there were two eyes where there shouldve been one and spots on his cheeks bright enough to resemble stars and where the color of his pupil should have been is just a sickeningly neon green with nothing else behind it. so they let him keep the mask even tho they already know something is wrong but it clearly makes him Very Distressed when asked to remove the mask or told to give it up. blah blah blah god harassing its host bc it got them caught and thrown in a prison and dream goes ever so slightly insane having to share a mind and body with a literal ancient god w a vendetta against everything hes built whos forced him to sacrifice everything he loved and cared for out of fear yk the usual prison shit and then techno comes a long and breaks him out or whatever but on their way back to his house he drops a really cryptic line abt how 'its nice to see an old friend again' and 'i thought i got rid of u for good last time' and dream is just ???? what are u talking about?? weve never been friends and youve never gotten rid of me? what. until techno spins around and just 'im not talking to you im talking to the thing inside u' or whatever and dreams eyes flash some brilliant gold or sumn and boom this is ur fellow god speaking how may i help you and dream xd (that feels so wrong to say but) and techno bond or well ig just talk abt how the past centuries have gone and ig while xd is fronting (??? i think itd kinda be like DID in a sense w multiple people being able to front yk?) dream is in a sort of semi conscious state but still hears everything going on around his own body until hes thrown back into the drivers seat (i think that xd would only be able to front for short periods of time due to the vessel n shit that makes sense right) and hes so confused someone please help him hes just a dude who happened to get possessed by a god someone help him so when they finally get back to technos house he sits dream down and explains the best he can without literally melting dreams brain. which would also play into the 'technoblade never dies' bc hes. literally a god. mortals cant kill him unless they have idk some sort of super weapon idk and blah blah blah xd gets what they want and finally has the ability to leave finally leaving dream literally the shell of a man with no home friends materials or anything with techno to basically take care of him until he reaches some semblance of stability again (which would take ages, realistically (wdym realistically) going from normal, to a god sharing a body with you and speaking in you brain living as a single being together and hearing their thoughts, to back to normal but with all the memories of what you did and what they made you do and also no more god speaking in ur head it would take a hot sec to recover from) so he lives with techno (whos, not to mention, another god) for a while until he can fend for himself again and after a good year or so passes and no one hears from dream they start to look for him and see what happened bc he went from the biggest threat on the server to just. gone. no one knows where he went after whatever he did and they want closure. is he dead?? who knows. so george and sap set out looking for him and decide to ask techno for help since hes good w directions n shit also he was the last person to see dream alive so he might have an idea of where he is and they walk up to his house and knock on his door and techno opens it and just stares at them he knows who they are, dreams talked about them before but hes never met them really so he talks to them, getting through the polite hellos how are yous before sap finally asks 'do you know what happened to dream? no one knows where he went and we just want closure' techno huffs and tells them to wait there he (this is the basement door im using his arctic tundra house in my head) goes down the ladder to the second basement, they can hear him talking to multiple people (ranboo phil dream) but cant tell who everyone is before coming back up the ladder, back to the door. he tells them to wait outside he needs to get something first (its dream hes getting dream) theyre standing out by carls stable when the door creaks open and dream steps out looking around for who the fuck could possibly be looking for them he betrayed everyone and most people thought he was dead who could possibly be here asking for himself and not ranboo or philza and when he steps out, his green hoodie (memento made by ranboo to help him cope w the loss of the voice in his head) catching the morning light off the snow and he was happy and then he saw them standing by the house hed grown to call home at least for now he breaks. he missed them so so much it hurt. he never expected to see them ever again much less them come looking to see him but hes scared he realizes he doesnt know what to say there is nothing to say he fucked them all over he ruined everything and then hes being hugged. they missed him too. they dont forgive him jsut yet but they missed him and thats enough for him right now. the three of them stand there just being in each others presences and techno creaks the door open to make sure they arent trying to kill each other and sighs and leans against the frame smiling. hes happy again and thats the best he can do for him. he invites them all in and offers to explain everything to them to try and ease the blame off of dream bc in all honesty it was his fault but xd made it far far worse that it should have been (a bit late but foot note abt xd i think that they would be an idle god until someone w intense feelings of powerlessness and insecurity like awoke them from their techno induced slumber and inhabited dream to help him fulfill his desires for power and control) and by the time he and dream are finished its late at night and sap and george are ??? so u were possessed by a god who techno killed centuries ago in a duel and it amplified ur feelings of insecurity and ur thirst for control to the point of isolating urself from us and destroying everything everyone cared abt?? also technos an ancient god who lusts for bloodshed but also makes turtle farms in his free time?? are we getting this right????? and techno and dream are just yea thats abt it glad this all made sense then they all go to bed (its a small house dream has a lil shack like ranboos and sap and george somehow slept over there for the night) and in the morning sap and george leave again but promise to come back, they still arent ready to forgive and forget bc even tho it wasnt all his fault his emotions getting away from him is what caused this all in the first place so they do need time to process now that they know he isnt dead and dream continues to live near techno in almost full independence and eventually moves back with his friends even tho many still hate him. hes happy and for now thats enough. another foot note; even after xd leaves his being, he still has the extra eyes, glowy freckles n is xtra tall n shit that cant just be reversed but now that hes himself again these things take their tolls on human bodies so i think hed have something at least similar to arthritis bc of how his bones were literally manipulated bc of how strong ethereal magic or whatever is. so he would still wear the broken mask but he takes it off now and is ok with it being off hes working on getting better now that hes himself again and everyone living w/by techno is helping him with that. also i think that he would get blinks of xd's memories like from when techno was killing them and have sumn like ptsd panic attacks from it and techno feels super guilty abt it but theres literally nothing he can do except apologize and after the first few times dream stopped him from apologizing bc it is his fault but he didnt do it to him so it doesnt matter to dream at least and they live in pretty much harmony until dream finally moves back in w george and sap the end. he also started wearing the mask in the first place bc of the extra eyes but he played it off as being uncomfortable around new people and not wanting them to know what he looked like until he trusted them (bc that literally makes sense irl how funky is that) so sap and george never pushed him and when they caught him without it on on the rare occasion they wouldnt pressure him to leave it off or anything even tho they already knew what he looked like (when they respect ur boundaries </3) they just assumed that it was insecurity (it was but also mans had like 3 eyes so) and just left him alone

#dream smp #long post under cut #dream mcyt #technoblade #dream xd #i love dream xd their concept is literally so fucking funny to me #this idea hit me like a train at 11pm and i wrote from 12:04am to 1:02am scribbling this down in dms on discord to my friend whos asleep #fic au idea #i should start a whole tag of that wanna bet how many posts would be there #edit: there are #2064 words and #10582 characters under the cut #what the fuck #is we fuckin doin

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kob131 · 4 years

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https://kaedeichinose.tumblr.com/post/613795649532624896/hey-about-that-rwby-rewrite-of-yours-i-remember

hey about that r/wby rewrite of yours, I remember you saying you didn’t kill Jaune off but just nuked his plot lines. What did you replace Jaunedice with?

So you destroyed the one well written part of Volume 1.

Congrats. you literally could not fuck up any worse.

that mightve been an older concept i was working with but i dont talk about my ideas all that frequently so im not surprised. i know i did used to think this but ultimately [cocks gun] its for the best. i did overhaul his plotline a bit so hes not shitty though

Place your bets.

first of all during his first meeting with pyrrha hes not fucking rude and physically aggressive for no reason. he does butt in on the conversation but only continues bc pyrrha engages with him. instead of being put off by her fame (YOU KNO, THE THING HE DOES THAT PYRRHA EXPICITLY SAID HE DIDNT DO. THAT THING.) he gets boastful and goes “well im sure i could totally keep up with her” which is misplaced confidence but she appreciates the spirit

*CRACK!*

... Wow, how did you break things THAT bad?

‘he’s rude and physically aggressive’ he wasn't physically aggressive in the original, he was just rude. Which makes sense as he’s SUPPOSE to be macho and suppose to be wrong. That’s uh, kind of why it’s funny when he gets pushed around. And why the fuck would Jaune think he would be able to catch up to Pyrrha, his whole shtick is that he’s not confident and he feels a need to stand out and stand on his own. Yeah he could be lying to himself but you don’t say that here and considering your best, you probably wouldn’t think of that.

pyrrha doesnt actively seek him out to partner with she just hears hi mscreaming and helps bc shes just nice and doesnt realy mind teaming up with whoever anyway.

... SO the exact same thing in canon just more telling and less showing. Because Pyrrha by using her spear to save Jaune locked herself into being his partner but she still helped him because she’s nice.

he actually tries VERY hard in school to catch up but still falls flat so instead of some prick who doesnt try and doesnt want help but still wants to be good hes actually trying VERY hard and only doesnt ask for help bc hes a cheater.

...

So canon again. Except that you removed one of his similarities to Ruby and robbed the show of a connection between characters, which interests so many people...just to get to the same point which would still be bitched at because you guys don’t care about what actually happens in the show.

at the end of the arc he comes clean to nora and ren also bc he realizes hes putting them in danger so ultimately weather or not he continues to attend is up to the rest of the team to decide. so he can be friends with them before he fucking dies and have screen time and interactions with them. ultimately theyre fine with hi mstaying and offer to help train him bc ren appreciates that he genuinely does want to help people (which aligns with his own interests) and nora has Abandonment Issues so shes definately not throwing a friend out the window.

... How the fuck did he put them in danger? They’re the strong ones and Jaune never acts in a way that endangers anyone but himself.

All you did was add in bullshit in an already bare bones Volume.

the dance arc doesnt fucking happen bc weiss told him to fuck off after the ice angel thing in v1 and he respected that bc hes not psychotic

And yet you don’t say anything about Neptune being demanded he be beaten up by Weiss.

This shit is why I say you fuckers are sexist: you only give a shit in very narrow circumstances.

overall just more interaction with everyone in general so it feels like it fucking matters when i nuke him so pyrrha can be a real character

... So you’re going to give a character you screech at if he exists for more than a second more screentime?

Yeah sure.

Also let me go ahead and address this bullshit ‘it’s better for Jaune to die than Pyrrha!’-

A. Jaune would get creamed in the first second of arrival or you’d have to make him a Mary Sue.

B. He’d still wouldn’t have the build up with Cinder that Pyrrha did as she was chosen to be a maiden.

C. It still wouldn't mean anything because instead of the strongest student dying, either the weakest student or a Mary Sue wearing his skin is dying so who cares?

D. Instead of having a character who has a moderately strong but necessary drawback semblance without extensive power to overbalance the team, we now have someone far stronger than any of the heroes who would either kill the tension or repeatedly need to be removed from the picture.

And E. What would this actually accomplish? No one besides people with murderboners towards Jaune suggests this change and they are so fringe they wouldn’t be a viable target to get emotional about. This isn’t a fix to the show, this is a demand for pandering to yourself. This would satisfy no one but yourselves....if even that because Pyrrha would still focus on Jaune and you’d throw a bitch fit there or remove him entirely for your own bigoted reasons, which would break the show for a vast majority of the audience.

This is why rewrites of RWBY do not work. You people do not consider the intricates of the show and instead of fixing small problems with small solutions, you take a sledgehammer to the whole thing and declare yourself a master writer just as the rumble crushes you.

Stop pretending that you have the experience, the talent, or the drive let alone the discipline to even attempt a fanfiction of this, let alone an actual show.

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onepunchmiss · 5 years

Text

OPM s2e6 Live Blog

“The Monster Uprising”

Sorry this is later than usual. I’ve been having some personal issues lately that have been rather time consuming. But anyway yall ain’t here for that! So let’s get on with the episode. As always, I’m watching from the perspective of someone who has read both the manga and web comic

Once again, picking up right where we left off! Suiryu finally makes his fighting debut. He’s been introduced like what, 3 episodes ago? But honestly idgaf about him nearly as much as

MAX MY BOI I KNOW HOW THIS ENDS FOR YOU BUT I’M ROUTING FOR YOU ANYWAY. Oh god I gotta say, I forgot Suirya has a couple nightmare faces yikes. Also, I love how the Sea King keeps having an impact on heroes so long after his defeat. First Prisoner during the alien invasion, then Max and I know in just a bit Snek too. What a villain. Jeez, the mildly ominous music really isn’t subtle about making Suiryu out to be antagonistic, yeah? Also, this is the most we’ve heard him talk so far- Suiryu’s voice is exactly what I imagined I love it. MAX NO ITS OK I LOVE YOU ANYWAY AND SUIRYU IS A DICK ITS FINE YOU DID GREAT

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is the sixth episode this season and i STILL pause every time Zombieman is in the intro. Even his tiny silhouette at the end. just

NGAH BEST ONE YET MY BBY GIRL

Ok ok back to the action. Genos makes a good point and I wonder that, too. Saitama broke his limiter through sheer willpower right, like thats crazy but also not THAT crazy. Is he REALLY the only person EVER to have done that thus far (aside from probably blast)? Thankfully no monster ever has otherwise we’d surely know about it. Is Saitama really just THAT insane? Its not even like he had an extreme desire his whole life, he just beat some crab guy and snapped one day? OH OH GENO’S PHONE OS RINGING MONSTERS! MONSTER! MO N S T ER S ! aw wait no go to the monsters hey

OH WAIT NEVERMIND THIS IS OK SNEK SNEK S N E K OK I actually really like him?? He’s like they show’s resident butt-monkey but also just a good guy.

OH HEY THAATS DIFFERENT!?!? Wow ok so in the manga, it just happened by chance that the cheering in the stadium was so loud that no one heard the monster evacuation alarms, but here they’re setting up Bakuzan preemptively as an asshole who actively disregarded the alarm and everyone’s safety (although he kinda has a point?). Because the way he acts later on is clearly not evil enough already? I feel like that’s unnecessary but it doesn’t add or detract from anything really so whatever I guess?

FUCKIN KEK DAVE. Top tier humor ffs the random mundane name joke will never get old fite me ooh Oh good god OK Choze’s face is also terrifying oh no. Dude you don’t need a monster cell you ALREADY LOOK LIKE ONE but OK

YASSS GENOS SLAY YAAASSSSS He finally wins a few rounds WITHOUT losing any limbs! IM JUST! SO EXCITED TO SEE HIM FIGHTING YASSS WAIT NO GO BACK HEKK so much jumping around is making this more difficult to maintain any semblance of coherency asdfghjk

HAH you know what? When I was rereading the manga and came across face ripper, I thought to myself he looks like he would be some tan/ olive/ pale purple color or something so I bet the anime will be like HAHA RED BITCH. and looky here. I’m catching on finally. hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Genos my boy my son you are such a bad ass and I love you hhhhhhhhhhhhhh HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAA AWAKENED COCKROACH AWAKENED COCKROACH ALREADY FUCK THIS EPISODE IS HAPPENING FASTER THAN I ANTICIPATED HECK HECK THERE GOES MY HEART RATE I THOUGHT I WAS PREPARED ALAS I AM BUT A FO O L

HAH I think this is anime-only too?? I dont remember it Why is this so funny what the fuck?? “Dark Hell Killing” Juijitsu omg calm down you absolute edgelord literally half of that name would have been sufficient.

FFFFFFFFFF The slowly building intense music just cut off like- I was so distracted by Bakuzam’s freaky murder face i forgot this happened DAMNIT SAITAMA i NEED my LUNGS to BREATH but no i LAFF and then the silence in the stadium turns to TRIUMPHANT MUSIC as if that was some valiant victory and THAT SOUR FACE FACE FUCK IM DEAD ITS TOO GOOD IM DEAD

Aw Tareo Sweetheart its ok noooooo also side note don’t they also mention Metal Bat is hospitalized? Hey! HEY! TALK ABOUT MY OTHER SON WE DONT EVEN SEE HIM FOREVER HEY oh oh I spoke too soon my b my b

Well shit it’s Shiny vs Shiny jeezus. I don’t have a particular issue with the coloring of Genos’ arms and such but this is just very noticable- Roach could’ve done without the SHINE. Eyyyy a complimentary Sonic for all yall SOS fans out there HAH “No matter it’s still fatal” r u sure about that child r u sure

AAHHH THE WIFE AGAINNNN yo I have A Lot Of Thoughts ™ about the females in OPM that I think I’ll make a separate post about because of the inevitable backlash of Super-S’ design.

OH FUCK COOL SHOT COOL COOL OH FUCK THAT WAS COOL TOO OUT OF NO WHERE hey wait was that supposed to be the Hell Storm attack? WHAT REALLY. AW MAN I was getting hyped about how that would look cmon

Super-S with messed up hair is perfection just saying

Also, Tatsumaki is the definition of Yandere and its terrifying jeez.

Terrifying, but also this. HEK

Aw snekm nooooo I BELIEVE IN YOU OK HES A DICK DONT LISTEN TO HIM YOU JUST WAIT A FEW EPISODES SWEETHEART THEN YOULL SEE

Oh weird dude seeing the Madhouse animation in the middle of season 2 is weird not jarring which is good because at least to me that means JC staff is keeping up well enough but still weirdddd

“Everything about you disgusts me” me too snek DONT LISTEN TO HIM HES A DICK

((((((((((((((((((((ew amai mask go away)))))))))))))))))))))

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I SCREAM FOR THE FIRST TIME OUT LOUD I WAS HONESTLY DOUBTING HED BE SHOWN CAUSE THEY SKIPPED SOME OTHER MONSTERS BEFORE BUT THERE HE IS NYAN NYANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

OOF OUCH I FELT THAT KICK THE IMPACT IN MY BONES

ok post credits scene i have an idea of what it might be and I’m shaking in my seat but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK HECK

yoooooooooooooooooooooo I WAS NOT IMAGINING GYOROS VOICE LIKE THAT HONESTLY I WAS READING IN ALL IN URSULA’S VOICE LIKE FROM THE LITTLE MERMAID BUT OK THIS IS GOOD OH FUCK GOUKETSU OH HECK OK HEY AT LEAST HES NOT RAINBOW COLORED BUT HECK OH GENOS NO

OH HEY BITCH YOU DIDNT DO SHIT AGAINST METAL BAT YOU GOT LUCKY HE DOESNT COUNT

THERE IS LITERALLY NO AVOIDING IT NOW NEXT WEEK CHILD EMPEROR MY DEAR AND DRIVE KNIGHT AT THE VERY LEAST LIKE THIS IS LITERALLY CONFIRMED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Good Episode GOOD EPISODE OK so my least favorite thing easily was the cop-out on Fubuki’s Hell Storm attack but otherwise my favorite thing was??? I dont know?? Like this episode was a lot of build up for next week’s episode but also so much happened anyway?? I loved seeing Genos in action and also BDSM Wife AND OROCHI AND GYORO and also also I know a lot of people have an issue with the existence of the tournament thing in general but I don’t mind it because its hilarious honestly and all of the happenings otherwise feel well balanced enough sooooooooo yeah I’m SO PUMPED for next week like bring me THE S CLASS BRING ME BRING

#opmiss mumbling #one punch man #live blogging #opm #s2e6 #s2e18 #super-s #genos #saitama #fubuki #tatsumaki #pig god #lightning max #suiryu #snek #nyan #orochi #gyoro gyoro

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larksinging · 5 years

Note

okay i was gonna send a joke ask about emerald and the slendergoat but actually, what do you imagine hers and eves relationship might look like? OR if you want to expand the question a bit, what kinds of interactions are you interested in emerald having with non-canonmates who she might have less... baggage with i guess?

HMMMMMM

honestly im… SO curious to see where eve and em’s relationship goes? because like yeah em needs someone in her life who genuinely cares about her and like, doesnt want her to help with nefarious deeds (sorry catra), but at the same time… i figure what interests eve about em IS her darker side. so the question is like, IS that going to manifest in a health way? is hanging around em actually going to be good for eve, or vice versa? i don’t know!!

but like even if its not GREAT i imagine it’ll be good for em to have SOME kind of stability in her life. not that eve is… super stable, but em has a pretty low bar for that right now! and even if their relationship is partially built on em’s ability for cruelty, it’s not like… eve is USING her the same way cinder is or anything, or even catra and em who get along because they can function as allies. em isn’t used to people caring about her FOR her, so

aaaand em can be pretty clingy when people show any kindness to her, so. her I Would Do Anything For You + basic desire to deal with her own threats is gonna lead to her going “you want me to kill villanelle? sure!” and the inevitable fallout of that is gonna be… So interesting. when it gets closer me you and hunter should plan how we actually wanna do that

but also i just love the idea of villanelle adopting the heroic rwby kids and eve adopting the villainous ones.

OKAY OTHERWISE THOUGH

hmmmmm. that is… a good question. honestly i think i wouldn’t mind getting her on a few people’s bad sides. she already has a tendency to and she is pretty far from a redemption arc still, so it’d make sense if she managed to piss of a few people. obviously ruby is her mortal enemies, but… like zero if she helps catra!

maybe some other characters her age-ish who she DOESNT’ have a complicated history with, but like… somewhere a little further in her redemption arc. she’s not in a place where she can view normal teenage interactions as anything but annoying yet. though im not sure if what she’d get out of them later is “i can have this” or “i can’t have this, but maybe i can find something else”

also: maybe some other reformed villains, OR some villains she can butt heads with when she is… slightly better. she’s never gonna be HEROIC, but em has the capability to like. act to try and neutralize a threat beyond just herself. i know me and hunter once joked/talked about her giving ruby some information by showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night. oh, i did say that she’d probably be SUPER wary of grace since lbr it’d be a pretty big threat to her if they’re already interested in semblances

i was hesitantly thinking like, WAY down the road of sending her to that rifter therapy (if the current plot of that works out), so… some other characters from that, maybe

idk im playing a LOT of it by ear because shes kind of a character who prompts a LOT of drama and dynamics to build naturally so i dont have to worry TOO much about building stuff up

oh yeah ill tag @mystoffelees to see this when they wake up

#denny is a cursed place #thanks!!#rorykillmore

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writerman · 5 years

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Modern elronbarduil. Bard is a cab driver, Thran is a the CEO of his own company, who just happens to be blind, and Elrond is an ER doctor. Now Thran some how gets injures at work but instead of call an ambulance, he calls a cab because he doesn't want to make a fuss. Bard is the cab driver and is worried about Thran, so offers to help get him inside the hospital and stays with him. Elrond is the doctor attending Thran.

//I am sorry but I didn’t make Thranduil blind in this one. I did, however, have a lot of fun writing this so this is where my confidence crashes and burns because now the world wide web get to read it... or ignore it ahahaha.

Enjoy, friendo!

THIS IS THE LONGEST PROMPT I’VE WRITTEN TO DATE!

Honestly, Bard had not expected his first fare of the afternoon to be a man bleeding from the temple, a well dressed, suited and booted kind of high flying exec kind of man… He was really bleeding, and from the rear view mirror he could not quite see where the blood was coming from but it ran down the man’s face with ease and dripped onto the grey suit he wore steadily.

“Uh… I know you’re not ok but are you ok?” Bard asked turning round to look at his customer properly, the guy was beautiful, angel fallen from Heaven masquerading as a man, beautiful.

Long straight blond hair, nearly white, piercing blue eyes and flawless skin, a jaw that could cut glass and all those other analogies that described the classic beauty of men.

Pale as milk though, either he had been bleeding for quite some time or he did NOT like the sight of blood, either way it was concerning.

The blond looked startled when Bard spoke, as though he had expected the cab to be self driven rather than by a flesh and blood human with thoughts and feelings. He lifted his hand to touch the blood and it smeared over his fingers staining the pale skin easily, all the while nodding slowly as though this was common place and he bled all the time from the head.

“So… Where do you need to go?” His whole body felt tense, this kind of felt like one of those scenes from a movie where he is infected by a virus and becomes a zombie because he just HAD to help the pretty one.

That’s how they get you, the zombies, they show up being pretty humans all the while the virus is working through them and suddenly you turn around to check on your passenger and BAM Zombie time and you’re dead.

He reeeeally hoped this guys asked for a doctor or a ride to the hospital because, damn, he was losing blood like no tomorrow.

Bard made the executive decision that he was taking the man to the hospital regardless and put the car in motion, not explaining his actions though he realised he was not asked any questions, or given any instructions… it was then Bard realised that the guy must have been in shock.

Once at the hospital Bard parked up, threw some money in a parking meter and eased the silent, still bleeding, man from the car, he spoke softly as if to keep this blond stranger at ease, as though he was some kind of easily spooked horse.

He looked like he owned horses, like 10 of them and had a son called Tarquin and they placed croquet on the lawn of their massive mansion.

Probably had house staff too.

Bard realised that was unfair, just because he wore a nice suit didn’t mean anything, he had a nice suit too, it was reserved for funerals and weddings, he had one and only one and when he wore it people thought he was important too, and not a cab driver in a city where his face blurred together with thousands of other brunet men with beards….

Further problems arose when he tried to check the man in to see a doctor, he had no idea what his name was, or even some semblance of an address, he barely registered the street he had been on when the blond had climbed into the car.

So far the only thing that had shown Bard the guy was aware of anything was when he nodded earlier, and he was sure that was just an automatic response to the question ‘Are you ok?’, because most people nod when asked that question.

Apparently standing at the reception of a hospital was good luck because a doctor ran towards them yelling something that was probably a name, ah, yes it was a name.

“Thranduil, oh Gods, what happened to you?!” This doctor was handsome, did beautiful people just attract other beautiful people, was this a cult?

While Bard stared at the two of them in bisexual, the brunet doctor that had jogged toward them turned to Bard for an explanation, and all Bard could do, and he did it so eloquently, was shrug.

“He got into my cab just bleeding like crazy from the head, he hasn’t spoken a word so I thought I would just bring him here…”

“You did the right thing, I will take things from here, thank you for your caring for him-” He was cut off as he tried to lead Thranduil off, the blond reached out and grabbed Bard by the wrist and would not move until he did.

“Ah, it seems you are coming with us, even in shock he recognises a catch when he sees one.” Inappropriate time to flirt when his friend was just stood silently bleeding like some kind of silent haunted house actor…

Were they friends?

Still, someone thought he was handsome, even though they both looked like Gods walking the earth amongst mere mortal men. Bard realised he had to take what he could get, even if it was a fleeting flirting opportunity from a doctor.

Before he could speak Thranduil, weirdly nice name, tugged at Bard and pulled him closer to his side, he slung his arm over his shoulder before his legs gave way and both Bard and the handsome doctor moved to steady him.

“Maybe he needs to sit down…?” Bard suggested and the doctor, who had the humility to look embarrassed, nodded and steered the weakening man toward a private room.

Thranduil was put on a bed and the doctor, who finally introduced himself a Elrond Peredhel, saw to the wound, he explained that wound was not deep but were it was situated was causing the blood to flow easily, the skin on the scalp was thinner he said.

Bard had no idea about any of this stuff so he just nodded.

“This man is not supposed to be working, this man is meant to be on bedrest.” Elrond quipped, the dig at his patience apparently brought him back to himself and Thranduil managed to roll his eyes, he looked to Bard and gave a soft smile.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his voice so damned deep and velvety and amazing, oh man, Bard needed to sit down after two words. He pulled himself round long enough to pull a chair up to the bedside and sit by the blond.

“I admit, you scared me back there in the taxi being all silent and bloody, I had visions of you trying to slit my throat or something.” It was a ridiculous thing to say and he regretted saying it instantly but the sound of Thranduil’s quiet laugh eased his insecurities for a moment.

The blond winced as though laughing hurt him, and Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder to soothe him as he worked on cleaning the wound, some of Thranduil’s hair was now stained red from the blood, but he did not seem to care all that much, or he hadn’t realised.

“I owe you so much, I could not speak and yet you brought me right where I need to be with who I need to be with.” Elrond and Thranduil shared a loving smile between them and Bard put the pieces together.

Husbands. Probably.

Well, they had flirted with him so they seemed relaxed so maybe very long time husbands?

Not that it mattered.

“Also thought you might have been a zombie.” Bard admitted quietly, which had Thranduil laughing again, and Gods it went right to his centre.

He suppressed a pleasant shudder, ignoring Elrond's knowing look.

“A zombie only before his morning coffee,” The doctor started, he rested a hand on Thranduil's shoulder before he spoke again, “Did you just swoon?”

This time Bard was the one to have the decency to blush and look away from the two.

"Ah, I thought so, he has that effect on everyone. Though so far you are the only one sensible enough to grab a chair and to respect that he may be in a relationship.

It's alright, you can flirt with him.

You can flirt with both of us."

Well, that was… interesting. So far Elrond had been quite vocal about his interest in Bard but Thranduil hadn’t said anything, and Bard was not sure it was alright for Elrond, even if he was married to the blond, to just offer the others affections so easily.

While in thought the two took the opportunity to whisper between themselves, some sort of debate, Bard wasn’t actually listening.

Eventually he made the decision that it was time for him to go. He had to earn a wage and sitting around in a hospital was losing him rent money for the month.

“Now that I know you’re alright I should probably go. I still have a job to do and while I do not necessarily have a boss I still need to make sure I make enough that I don’t have to work too late tonight.

It was great meeting you both even given the circumstances.

I hope you manage to keep him on bedrest this time.” Bard looked to Elrond as he said the last part and he got to his feet ready to depart.

“Thank you, again for bringing him here. I truly hope we meet again.” Elrond spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster without it sounding as though he was mocking Bard.

With that they parted ways.

It was a month after that Bard saw the two again.

He had been playing a zombie apocalypse game while the car idled at the side of the road, there didn't seem to be much foot traffic where he had parked up so he took the chance to try and level up his mobile game.

When the door opened behind his seat and someone slid in he paid them no mind, he was going to wait until they'd settled before he gave them any attention, that was until…

A pair of hands slid to his shoulders and squeezed almost pinching him.

Then a rumbling voice in his ear spoke.

“Still hoping for zombies, are we?” The tone amused and, dammit, the shiver that spiked down Bard's spine… the hairs on his arms stood on end and his heart beat leapt to a pace faster than he believed ever possible.

“Thranduil, leave him alone, he looks like he might have a heart attack.” Oh, yeah, it was definitely the dream duo he had absolutely NOT been thinking about since they first met… Elrond Peredhel and his husband Thranduil.

Two fantastically beautiful men that had taken a shine to Bard as though he wasn’t some grimy cab driver with untamed curls and bags under his eyes that could fill a baggage claim at Heathrow.

Doing his best to calm himself before he looked round, he sighed inwardly when the blond let go of his shoulders to sit back in his seat, Bard took a cleansing breath as quietly as he could and turned to offer the couple a bright smile.

“Well, hello, you two. Long time no see… so, where am I taking you tonight?” It was 6pm and the sun was sinking behind the high rise buildings around them- the night would come alive soon enough and Bard actually wanted to get home before any party-goers tried to hail him for a ride.

“Well, we were just going to go home but maybe coffee first, we’d love it if you could join us?” Elrond slid an arm around Thranduil’s shoulders as he spoke and pulled him so they were right up against one another side by side, their shoulders right down to their feet touching down one side.

“Uh… well, I was just going to go home after this fare…” Bard trailed off at the, frankly sorrowful, disappointed look he was given from both of them, so rather than argue he just nodded. “Alright, where would you like to go?”

They ended up in a small coffee shop, it advertised that it was open all night long and so far it was fairly quiet, Bard suspected the usuals that haunted the place would show up at the wee hours of the morning, sporting smudge make-up, tousled hair from brief intimate encounters and being more than just hungover as they sipped hot coffee full of sugar and cream before they could even begin to think of heading home…

It seemed like a trendy spot, Thranduil and Elrond stood out like peacocks against the vintage surroundings in their crisp fitted shirts and, what was probably, ridiculously expensive slacks and boots.

Smart casual.

Yet they looked across as Bard as though hungry hyenas and he was dinner for the night.

Hadn’t they just eaten?

“You don’t have to look so scared of us, but… we did have a proposition for you if you would be so kind as to allow us a moment to explain?” Thranduil began, he picked up a drinks menu from off the table in front of him and perused it casually, his eyes flitting to Bard occasionally and he offered a very sultry smile.

Bard felt nervous, like a bug near a venus fly trap but he was also a little hot under the collar, he didn’t image a look could ever have that effect on him but… well… there he was flushed.

The ye olde expression of ‘Mark me down as scared and horny…’.

“I’ll cut to the chase, let you breathe a little afterwards. We like you Bard,” Elrond began, he waved away a waitress that approached with a genuine smile before turning back to Bard. “We are a couple but we were hoping your interest in us was not solely a fanciful day dream. Thranduil and I would like to take you out and, perhaps with time, you would accept us, even love us and let our duo become a trio?” There was a long pause after Elrond said his peace and so Thranduil and he ordered drinks, and after a moment coaxed an order out of Bard.

He felt as though a hurricane had rushed over him and he was left windswept and out of breath.

Were they suggesting a three way relationship?

He had to admit, and admit it very quietly, even in his own head, that he had thought about that would be like… they seemed fun and flirty, but what were they like behind closed doors?

He didn’t feel threatened by them or actually afraid, and gods, he had seen the look of love they had shared between them back at the hospital.

Could that be him?

“I want to get to know you both better.” The words blurted out, his mouth and brain had not discussed this and yet there he was talking, all the while his brain is in disarray ‘We talked about this mouth, you have to run things by me first!’ but again his mouth ignored his brain and he spoke again.

“I am interested in both of you, I want to try this.”

All hope was lost for his mouth and his brain logged out for the rest of the evening.

With his acceptance of the couple, Elrond and Thranduil moved to sit next to him, one on each side, they wrapped their arms around him and welcomed him in to the fold.

“We shall show you a good time, so much so that you could not imagine being without us, let us love you.”

...and so, he did.

#long post #thranduil #bard the bowman #barduil #bard #elbaruil #elrond #the hobbit #writing prompts #writing #mypackpride

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