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inoreuct · 7 months

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i’m thinking about zosan.

thinking about sanji who says you’re the dumbest fucking man i’ve ever met but also god, i’m so in love with you it hurts and you call and i answer, because you’d do the same. i would move mountains to get to you if you needed me.

thinking about zoro who says you’re a priss and an ass and absolutely insufferable but also i’d fucking kill for you. i don’t know what i’d do if you ever got hurt because that would mean i failed to protect you and also i’ll be there. no matter what, i will be there. say my name and i’ll cross oceans for you.

zosan who bicker and fight and and snip at each other’s heels like they’re getting paid for it, but as soon as one of them actually gets hurt it’s over.

zoro takes a bullet to the side and sanji’s there, furious and incandescent in his rage, covering for him, fighting for the both of them because he can. he’s strong enough for zoro to be weak, just for a moment.

sanji gets a slash to the thigh and zoro’s tearing across the battlefield with a vengeance, desperately cutting down anything that gets in his way because they’re insignificant, they don’t matter, not now, not ever, not when sanji’s compromised.

and their love isn’t all just blind rage in the name of protectiveness, either; it’s the way sanji stocks up on zoro’s favourite liquor and yet still locks the cabinet to give zoro the satisfaction of stealing it and not getting caught. it’s the way zoro appears in the galley after dinner, gently taking the clean plates from sanji’s hands with a dishcloth, drying as sanji washes.

it’s the way their things keep shifting around until there are more of sanji’s clothes in zoro’s room than zoro’s, until zoro’s sword cleaning kit becomes a permanent fixture on sanji’s nightstand. they still decide to not share quarters; they’d really drive each other mad if they did. they’re the kind of people who need their own space.

but on the nights when the quiet gets a little too quiet and the silence gets a little too loud, they know where to go. they show up at each other’s doors in the middle of the night to crawl back into sleep-warm sheets and familiar arms; zoro runs hot and sanji runs cold, and it never gets too much of either.

the nightmares are vicious, with the lives they lead. the ghosts of their pasts are still very much alive when they close their eyes. but when it gets too much, there is always, always a door open. a designated side of the bed. soft reassurances mumbled half-asleep but no less concerned, no less tender, lips pressed to mussed hair, a second heartbeat, an anchor, a safe port to dock in the night.

and even when they don’t need the company they seek each other out anyway, simply because they can and they want to; late nights in the flickering light of the electric lamps, laughter hushed so that they don’t wake the others, curled together so closely they can’t tell which limbs belong to whom. it’s easy— warm and content and strong like the rhythm of the sea, and they don’t need to say anything to hear what they already know. i know you. you know me. i care for you. you care for me. i choose you and you choose me and i need you, i never learned how to love but by god will i try, because i’m learning from how you love me.

their love is a constant. it flows like the waves they sail, but it will never ebb— and it says we may fight and we may argue but i don’t care, i don’t care, i will be there. call for me. please. do not doubt me. do not doubt us. we may drift but you are the home i return to. i will come home, always. always, for you. to you.

#zosan #one piece zosan #op zosan #zoro x sanji #ronoroa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #they make me SICK #SICK I SAY #GGGJFHFHHFHDHDHDJHD #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece #one piece but my heart is no longer in one piece because of these clowns

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estrellami-1 · 5 months

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More Time (Please)

“Make him pay.”

Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “No,” he murmurs. “Please-”

He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. That Eddie will say something else, maybe; that happens sometimes, right? People say things more than once. Surely this isn’t it, surely this isn’t the last time they’ll speak to each other—

Eddie’s eyes are widening, and Steve knows he feels the telltale burn of a soulmark, shearing the connection.

“Steve,” Robin calls, jogging back to tug on his arm. “We’ve gotta go, c’mon, it’s time.”

Numb, he lets himself be pulled away.

She glances at him, then back at Eddie a few times. “What was that about?”

He swallows the sob that wants to come out. “Our soulmarks.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, Steve,” she murmurs.

He glances down at it. Still red. He knows it’s probably going to be the bats. He wishes any number of things, but is reminded of the story his grandma used to tell him. “There’s nothing we can do to change it,” he whispers along with the voice in his head, the same cadence as his grandma.

“Maybe,” she tries. “Maybe- you could go back now, just… yell something at him?”

“Don’t you think the soulmark would know?” He asks sadly. “You can’t cheat the system, Robs, not with this. Those are the last words I’ll ever hear him say.”

“I can’t lose you, Steve,” she whispers, and suddenly his eyes are filled with tears, and he attacks her in a hug, pulling her in until she squeaks.

“I love you, Robin,” he whispers.

“I love you. So much.”

“So much,” he agrees.

Up ahead, Nancy’s waiting on them. “Guys,” she calls. “We have to go. I know you’re scared, I am too, but we don’t have long.”

Steve takes a deep breath. “You’re right,” he agrees, and marches on, holding Robin’s hand tightly in his.

Neither of them try to let go until they have to.

Steve gets slammed against the wall by some vines, and they wind around him until he feels like he understands what asthma feels like, and then beyond that, cracking his ribs and bruising his throat, more, more, more, until suddenly they stop, release him, and he falls onto the wooden floor, scraping his hands and knees and earning a couple of splinters.

He hacks out a cough, stumbles back onto his feet, and follows Nancy and Robin into the belly of the beast.

They find Vecna right where they think they will and attack, and Steve thinks he’s screaming but the rushing of blood in his ears is louder than anything else, and he can’t hear himself, can’t check if he is, just keeps going, does what he can to help weaken Vecna, to help destroy him.

It’s over suddenly, Vecna dead, body riddled with bullets, and Steve glances down at his soulmark, hoping against all hope that it’s still red.

His heart drops through the floor when he sees grey instead.

He tears out of the house, sprints the entire way back, yelling for Eddie, but when he gets there he sees he really is too late.

Dustin’s sitting by his side, bottom lip quivering, tears streaming down his face, and Steve collapses next to him, flutters his hands around Eddie.

Ignoring the blood and gore, he looks almost peaceful, and Steve suddenly knows this is how he would look fifty years from then, dying from old age instead, in a world where their soulmarks gave them more time.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#I’ve had this in my drafts for ages #never posted it for some reason #I think I was waiting for a happier ending #but I’m in a crap mood so y’all get this #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates #last words #steddie #almost #starambles

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thegingerwrites · 3 months

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De-aged Obi-Wan ficlet, inspired by this gorgeous art of Pada-Wan

Anakin stares. He is utterly and completely awestruck by the sight before him. He must look like a kid again, with wide eyes and his mouth fallen open. Barely controlling a panicked urge to laugh, Anakin thinks that he isn’t the only one. He can’t help it now though. This is too much.

His hair is long. That’s the first thing Anakin notices about him. His master’s hair is often fairly long, reaching down to touch his shoulders at the back. On long missions, it can get longer, unruly, but he always makes himself cut it before it grows long enough to tie back.

Now, his hair easily reaches his shoulders on all sides. It frames his face with soft waves that Anakin aches to touch, run his fingers through and push back behind his ears. Is it redder now, somehow? Did his hair grow blonder over time and as white hairs began to gather at the temples?

Anyway, looking at his master’s hair is much safer than looking at his face—soft and smooth, beardless and entirely unlined. His master’s lips are a gentle petal-pink, a dangerous thought that Anakin forces from his mind the instant it occurs to him. It isn’t safe to think that kind of thing about his master, especially when he looks like this.

But looking elsewhere isn’t any better. His robes are structured to be broad across the shoulders, trying to make him look bigger there, stronger and more certain. All it does is accentuate just how small his master’s waist is. If Anakin placed his hands there, he bets his fingertips would touch.

The Sith holocron must have changed Obi-Wan, made him younger. But just how young is anyone’s guess. Anakin thinks, briefly bordering panic once again, that they must be almost the same age now. Obi-Wan is about the same height as he always is, just slimmer, his muscles less developed and his movements willowy.

They are almost the same age now. The fact does not help Anakin as he continues to stare, continues to look his fill at his young and beautiful master.

“We have to go back,” Anakin says, still looking at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows, creating lines on his forehead that will one day become permanent. “We can’t—the entrance is blocked. Even if we could get past it, the whole cave system is likely unstable.”

But they need that holocron. They need to get Obi-Wan back to himself again. There is no way his master can be allowed to go on looking like that. Stars, all he’s doing is standing there, worrying his bottom lip—perhaps a normal tick for him, but one that is usually hidden by his beard—and the way it makes his perfect, soft pink lips go shiny with spit is indecent. Everything about him is obscene.

Anakin takes a moment and decides on his orders. “Snips, see if you can scan the cave system. Rex, gather the men and get ready to excavate the entrance.”

“Anakin, there’s no need. I’m fine and we have to think of our mission here. I’ll comm the Council and have them start working on a solution. By the time we return to Coruscant, I’ll be myself again.” He frowns and thinks for a moment. “Though I suppose I feel rather like myself right now.”

Obi-Wan looks like he’s contemplating the benefits of remaining eighteen or nineteen for an extended period of time and Anakin has to put a stop to that line of thought right now.

“You’ll be a liability,” Anakin insists. “Your body isn’t the same as your older self. You won’t be as good in a fight.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and fixes him with a look that Anakin can only describe as petulant. Kriff, was his master a brat at this age? Anakin wants to bite his young master’s pretty bottom lip. “It will take some getting used to, I grant you, but I’m hardly defenseless.”

No, not defenseless, but Anakin is prepared to fight the entire galaxy to keep anyone else from seeing his master like this. It’s like he doesn’t know what he looks like, the thoughts people are going to have about him, the thoughts Anakin is currently struggling with.

But he does have a point. They were never meant to get so derailed by the ruins of the Sith temple. Their mission awaits.

“Fine,” Anakin says. Then he shrugs off his cloak and holds it out to Obi-Wan. “At least wear this.”

Maybe if Anakin obscures his master’s irresistible little waist and gets him to pull the hood up, he won’t have to fend off any unwanted eyes. Unwanted by Anakin, that is. Obi-Wan is Anakin’s master. No one gets to look at him or think about him the way Anakin is currently doing.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but accepts the cloak and oh, no, Anakin has made a terrible mistake. The cloak is too big and it swallows Obi-Wan’s smaller frame. The sleeves are too long and there is too much fabric gathered up around his shoulders. His face peers out above the mass of brown fabric and he looks so adorable that Anakin can hardly stand it.

“I’m going to go check on Ahsoka,” Anakin declares. There is no way they are leaving here without that karking holocron. “And you’re coming with me.”

#obikin #aniobi #obi wan x anakin #anakin x obi wan #obi wan/anakin #my fic #my writing warm up quest continues

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mmvalentine · 6 months

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Lucky | Feysand

It was a throw away comment and Feyre knows it.

“Stop leaving glasses out!” Rhys had said, half laughing, tugging the end of her ponytail and dropping two cups and a mug into the sink.

Rhys makes her a cup of tea every evening, and it’s one of the hundred little ways that Feyre feels spoiled. She does like to keep a glass of water on the night stand, and where Tamlin hated it when she worked, Rhys has always supported her career. So they both leave early in the morning and more often than not, there’s a small collection of glassware in their bedroom.

It's completely fair that Rhys would prefer that she take them to the kitchen in the morning.

So why is it that the comment unsteadies her?

“I’m sorry,” Feyre says, and rushes to the sink. Her hands shake on the sponge. “My brain doesn’t function in the morning, I’ll remember to wash up before bed.” She goes for casual but it comes out breathless, and the Rhys looks over with a frown.

Maybe it’s because she’s been here for four weeks but doesn’t trust this yet.

Not Rhys- he’s been nothing but gorgeous, and patient, and kind. He’s so completely sure about her and in some ways that’s the most wonderful thing about him. And in some ways, it’s a lot of fucking pressure.

Rhys comes to stand behind her and puts his nose on her neck. Closes his fingers over her wrists until she stops moving, and wraps his arms around her waist.

“That’s fair,” he murmurs. “It’s not a real gripe.”

Some nights, Feyre lies awake in the dark, long after Rhys has fallen asleep, and tries to deep-breathe the fear away. It never works. But how can she tell him? It’s not his fault. The problems are all in her head.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre whispers, and she doesn’t mean the glasses.

She knows it’s not realistic, but it’s hard to fight the urge to be as perfect as possible, because she’s never had it so good, and the fact that it could break any day now is more than enough to keep her guts in permanent knots. She’s been holding her lips closed over the anxiety. She’s been trying so hard. She’s brittle enough that the shallow criticism lands like failure in her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Rhys murmurs. He picks up a tea towel and dries her hands, dragging her waist away from the sink. “You’re safe, honey.”

Sometimes Feyre forgets that Rhys does know. Knows better than most- after all, he’s known Tamlin longer than she has. Still, she’s both embarrassed and relieved that he can read her so easily.

“I didn’t mean it,” Rhys says. “Please leave cups in the room. It means you live here and that is so wonderful, to me.”

Rhys sits down on the couch and pulls her into his lap. Feyre hides her face in his chest and wishes, for the thousandth time, that she was better than this. That her fear of Tamlin’s anger would not be an unwelcome third in her and Rhys’s house.

“Hey,” Rhys whispers. “Don’t be sad, beautiful girl.” He slides his hand under her hair, and touches their foreheads together. “You’re okay.”

And then he kisses her, and it helps.

Feyre takes a deep breath, and kisses him back. It’s difficult to be here, it’s difficult to let herself be loved like this. But touching Rhys is always easy, and soon her fingers find his collar and his jaw and the raven curls at the back of his head. And she can feel him smile against her mouth when she tugs him closer.

“Does this help?” he asks. Feyre just nods, and kisses him again. The rough of Rhys’s palms walk up her back, under her shirt, until his hand rests behind her neck.

“I have less anxiety when you’re touching me,” she admits, and Rhys chuckles softly.

“That’s good,” he says, and in the next moment he’s lifted her up out of his lap and laid her back down on the couch cushions. He settles easily between her legs, and every time it’s a thrill to Feyre that he’s hard because of her. His mouth wanders from her lips to her throat to her collar bone and back up.

“I’m not mad,” he says, because that’s always what she’s afraid of and he knows it. “Of course I’m not, you’re such a good girl, how could I be?”

And like clockwork those two words make her brain slide, and her eyes close as his tongue travels the indent that runs from under her sternum to her navel.

“Please,” Feyre breathes. Rhys just looks up at her from under the ink of his eyelashes, and continues kissing down her stomach. “Please,” she says again, and this time he leans up and kisses her heavy on the mouth.

“That’s such a pretty word on your tongue,” he tells her. Feyre doesn’t respond, she’s concentrating on Rhys’s belt buckle and the button beneath it. He glances down, and then gives her a pitying look. “My poor darling,” he says. His teeth graze the corner of her jaw. “You need this, huh?”

Feyre wins her battle with Rhys’s zipper and slides her hand down the front of his jeans. She’s rewarded with a shudder that rips across his shoulders, and it only makes her melt further into the couch.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You need it?” Rhys asks again. He grinds against her palm and she loves how even when he’s in control, he comes undone a little under her hands. “You need me to fuck it better?”

“Yes,” Feyre says again, and now she shoves his jeans the rest of the way off him, and Rhys pulls his shirt over his head in one motion. He gets his mouth on her throat and his hand on her breast, and Feyre’s limbs reach up and around him to pull him closer than skin. He drags her tights off, agonizingly slow, and then her shirt, and every inch that’s exposed is immediately pressed up against the warmth of him, searing but sweet.

“Tell me how much,” Rhys says, and it’s only the cotton of her underwear that’s between them when he rolls his hips against hers. Feyre closes her eyes, speaks against the slant of his cheek.

“Too much,” she says. He hooks her leg over his shoulder and Feyre’s back arches up off the couch. “And too often. You have no idea…” she trails off, trying to press up against Rhys as he moves all too slowly.

“Too often?” he asks. His fingers drift down, toying with the waistband of her panties.

“All the time,” she gasps. Her hands scrabble on his shoulders as he drags the elastic down over her hips.

“I wish you’d tell me.” He starts to kiss down over her breasts, but Feyre pulls him back up to her lips and slide her tongue against his. He groans softly in her mouth, and she pulls her knees up the sides of his ribcage, digs her heels into base of his back. “I wish you’d lean over, while we’re watching TV, and tell me how bad…” here Rhys pauses to draw a shaky breath because Feyre is wet against his naked cock, “…you need to be fucked.”

“I’m telling you now,” Feyre argues, and lifts her hips to prove her point.

“You are,” Rhys concedes, and presses up against heat of her. “And you’re doing such a good job.” He pushes inside her, and Feyre’s head drops back against the cushions. She breathes in, and it feels like a long time she’s been holding her breath. “Look at me,” Rhys says, and when she opens her eyes he’s watching her face change when he moves out and back in. His hips punch forward when she meets the violet of his gaze, and Feyre gasps.

“That’s it baby,” Rhys murmurs. “Keep looking at me.”

It’s easier said than done- Rhys’s eyes scald her and every time their hips touch her mind slides.

“Come on honey, you can do it.”

Feyre’s eyes snap open, but somehow there’s five hundred years in that stare and it’s a lot to bear. She tips her head back and throws her arm over her face.

And then Rhys’s fingers close over her throat, and it’s strange that this makes her feel safer, that it always makes her feel safer when he’s holding her down because every other moment she’s on the verge of floating away altogether.

“Is that better?” Rhys asks. His eyes darken above her, and she loves knowing that he likes her like this.

“Yes,” she breathes, and his grip tightens.

“You’re so good,” he tells her. “My good girl.”

Feyre can’t help it, she moans at the praise and the sound pushes Rhys’s pace up. This time when her eyes squeeze shut he lets her. Sits up on his heels to get a deeper angle and puts his teeth on her ankle.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?” Rhys asks. He slides his thumb against her tongue for a second, before touching it to her clit. She can’t answer, because he keeps his rhythm while he talks to her and it’s knocking the breath from her lungs. “You look so pretty like this, baby.” His eyes rake over her, hooded and muddled, and there’s nothing quite so intoxicating as watching him look at her.

Rhys leans his forearms on either side of her face and leans down over her. Feyre’s hands come up automatically to follow the muscles of his back. She thinks he’ll kiss her, but when she tilts her face up he just flicks his eyes down to her mouth and then back up. He slows down now, moves in long, languid strokes that make Feyre feel like she’s drowning.

“You know,” he murmurs. “You can always tell me if you need this.” This time he does kiss her, and the next time he speaks it’s right next to her ear. “I’d drop everything and bend you over. Empty your head just like you like.”

Feyre‘s nails dig into Rhys’s shoulders and he shifts again, moving fast now and breathing shallow.

“Come on baby,” he says, and she can hear the strain in his voice. “Feel good for me.”

She doesn’t need to be told, he always feels good and today is no exception. Not when the snap of his hips makes a steady undertow that she is fast being dragged in by, not when the smell of him this close is enough to drive her to distraction, not when she can feel him start to chase his own release and knows that she’s the one making him feel like this.

“Give it to me,” she whispers. “I want it, want to feel you…”

But Rhys just laughs and shakes his head. “You first, angel.”

Feyre is tempted to see if she can make him lose control, but the way he moves is too good to ignore. And, she’s never one to pass up an opportunity to show him how good she can be.

“Right now,” Rhys says, under her ear, and honestly it’s so easy with him. Feyre breaks in between one breath and the next, and it’s a thing that wrings her out over and over in the cage of Rhys’s arms. It’s somewhere in the aftershocks that Rhys comes too, and she hasn’t told him but this is the part to Feyre that feels so intense she never quite feels like she’ll survive it. But of course she does, and minutes later the world filters back in and the couch cushions are scratchy against her back and there is sweat in Rhys’s hair and her heart is still beating painfully hard in her chest.

And Feyre feels calm, in this moment, which is rare but increasing. She presses her nose against Rhys’s forehead, where he’s half dozing on her chest, and tries to remember the feeling of it, because there will be a next time that she feels anxious and afraid, but if she’s very lucky, and she has been very lucky, there will also be a next time for this part right here, and that makes everything worthwhile.

****

Well hello there angels! It's been a hot minute, I'm rusty don't laugh at me!

But seriously a lot of things have happened and I still kinda feel a little lost (read: completely out of control)- and not all in bad ways. I've been meaning to post some one shot type things and to talk about my book but man it is HARD. So for now here is a little angsty thing that may or may not be just be T-Swifting it about my current sitch and my book links: UK and international US eBook Australia

And ummm this feels like I am too irrelevant to pull this anymore and I'm sorry if you do not want to be on this but,

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #ooookay does anyone come to the tags for the life updates #because if you do heres the scoop #i live in london now #im about to lose my job boo #but im starting an apprenticeship yay #but its unpaid boo #anyway so end of the year im out of a house and an income #also i have a new boyfriend who wait for it is not an alcoholic #and i cannot fucking handle it because im full of trauma #anyway please read my book okay byyeeeee

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 1 year

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If Gyutaro thinks you’re cheating

Requested: Yes! [Ok so, What would Gyutaro (+ any other Upper moon if u want) do if he thought his s/o was cheating on him?]

Warnings: This gets dark quickly but it’s Gyutaro so I feel like it’s pretty in character. Pretty sure this classifies as Yandere? Isolation, mentions of starving, murder, gore, delusions, obsession, screaming, general spousal abuse. Let me know if I missed something!

A/N: 👉👈 Gyutaro, my beloved

Well, taking away the outcome where he’s just so overcome with anger and grief that he just straight up eats you? It could go a variety of ways depending on how deep his suspicion is and how good your relationship is. I’ll just give you the second worst case scenario though (first being the nom nom scenario).

Gyutaro is inconsolable. He starts by becoming distant, talking less, eating less, generally just seeming to shrink into himself. This will usually lead to Ume loudly declaring that you need to fix her brother, whining and crying at you until you try, even if you’ve tried a hundred times before to no avail.

But after grief comes anger, something Gyutaro is familiar with and frequently lets guide him. And people in the direct line of his anger never usually get to stay alive for much longer. The fact that you’re the direct cause of it (offense imagined or not) and are still standing and breathing is nothing short of a miracle. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it.

Cause with his anger comes possessive, greed, jealousy. He’ll never let you out of his sight now, barely let you out of the house. If you so much as look at anyone else aside from him or Ume than they’re dead, their guts on your feet as he’s in your face, screaming as he accuses you of sleeping with them. Of loving them.

His paranoia over the subject might even escalate to the point where he keeps you under lock and key permanently, bringing you food and water, your favorite things. New things. Maybe a nice soft animal like a kitten to pet once and a while.

But if all his attempts to make your isolation nicer are rejected? Fine. Life doesn’t need to be as comfy as he’s trying to make it for you. No more soft tatami mat, only the cold floor. None of your things to comfort you. Your meals can be skipped. No need for a light in your room, only a dark abyss that will slowly chip away at your sanity.

Maybe, after a while of this, you’ll come back around to him? All he wants is you. Can’t you see that he loves you? He’d never do this to anyone else. Never put up with being hurt like this and letting it go so easily. He loves you. He needs you. He can’t live without you.

Please.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #Gyutaro #Gyutaro x reader

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socksandbuttons · 1 year

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*Tries to think about a Evil Lunar AU, instead i get accidental murder and severe guilt from two parties.* Anyway, i don’t know what to call this au. Moon dies? Lunar is Here? This takes place during when Killcode first appears. Trapping both Moon and Lunar in his weird mind hellscape. Although in this timeline, Lunar instead of trying to dissociate and avoid Killcode, actively tries to remove him. Since this is AFTER Moon would teach him how to code. I’ll have to rethink details here cause I think Monty and Moon discussed AFTER about removing killcode was a Very Bad Idea. You know what, the rest under cut here

Anyway, Also rememeber, this is before Lunar meets Good Eclipse and getting his warnings about not removing the killcode. Lunar is able to remove Killcode. Although in the process effectively breaking and killing Moon. Yay no more killcode for Sun to deal with again! (who was trying to get monty to help.) However, it takes a moment for Lunar to fully realize what happened. He can’t get a hold of Moon and even worse is that... its quiet in his head now. So Sun does come back, with Monty. Lunar now having to decide whether he tells Sun the truth immediately and begging Monty to help. Or decide to pretend to be Moon for a while, and get Monty to help bring Moon back if he even can. Either way it just leads to Sun’s anger with Lunar, effectively kinda putting a huge strain on their relationship that they were just starting to get along. It doesn’t help Sun still has that trauma of Eclipse and Lunar body jacking during october. (Third image is a reference to when Lunar revealed he took moon over for a week. That conversation is a Huge uh can of worms there.) Who’s also feeling guilt do to several issues we know now, but one is not helping Moon himself. But obviously this wasn’t something meant to happen. Sun’s grieving, Lunar’s grieving and Monty is trying to figure out if they can help (while also grieving.) Lunar is obviously taking this pretty badly, he just killed his brother (in attempt to help but still) and stuck in Moon’s body. Triggering Sun and him everytime he looks in the Mirror. So he removes some of the accessories but nothing Altering the outfit permanently. That’s like a moon pin/barrette he put on the hat. Keeping the eyelights white (Moon in game can do that so. Yeah) Unfortunately, only Monty and Sun know Lunar is the only one left in moon’s body. No one knows Lunar, remember that. That’ll be brought up probably. Whether Lunar pretends to be Moon for other people is dependent. He technically was helping with the daycare in Moon’s place already. There’s also Lunar just knowing Sun technically blames him, thus pretending to talk to moon when he’s by himself. Sun obviously getting frustrated at Lunar, but think of hurt/comfort here. Sun knows Moon wouldn’t want them fighting about it, and Lunar is the only brother he has left now. They’re literally going through a lot, heck Bloodmoon (and Eclipse) is still around. They have the computer to technically help with things Moon did. Lunar is left with guilt having been the one to desperately do something with immense consequence of losing one of his brothers who actively cared for him and fear he'll lose the other, and Sun who's blaming Lunar but also feeling guilt cause he feels he could've at least TRIED to do something himself instead of running off to find someone and leaving both Lunar and Moon to fend for themselves. ANYWAY JUST. SUN AND LUNAR HANDLING DEATH OF THEIR BROTHER AND MORE OR LESS ACCEPTING THEY MAY HAVE LOST HIM FOR GOOD. Will there be a part 2 handling with Eclipse and Bloodmoon? and maybe Earth idk about earth here.

#sun and moon show #sams lunar #sams sun #all this just because i was trying to think how to make a evil lunar au and no. no i just get sad times #fnaf lunar #myart #moon dies au #yeah thats just easier to tag lol

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 6 months

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Oh, hello!

It’s time to replace my original pinned post with a more permanent choice, so here’s the quick, updated scoop on what you can expect here:

I love all things Tolkien and looking at, thinking about, and talking about those things. So I will absolutely reblog your fan art of Thranduil draped across his throne in that sultry pose or like your fic about how Tuor came to love Voronwë as a brother on their long journey to Gondolin. But in my heart, I’ve always been a Rohan kind of girl. That’s where you’re going to find my interest most often drawn, and it’s what I write about almost exclusively (with the very occasional tangent into Haldir-related content, which I understand is totally inconsistent, but the heart wants what the heart wants!).

So, if you could talk about the Eorlingas for hours on end, if Éomer is the Middle Earth king of your dreams, if you find yourself unreasonably attached to minor characters like Háma and Elfhelm or have tons of opinions about how amazing Théodred is, if you’re personally invested in Karl Urban’s dimples …maybe we should be friends! And if you like those things, then maybe you’d get something out of my fics. Or not. Either way is fine!

Those fics are now collected in one place below, which I’ll try to keep updated. I make no claim that they are fine works of literature, but they make me happy and that’s their primary purpose. While they’re all consistent with each other and exist in my unified headcanon, they tend to be one shots based on some particular thing I was interested in–a specific plot point, an unanswered question, a desire to see a certain character grow/develop a certain way. Anyway, you get the idea. So thanks for being here, click through to the master list (such as it is) and FORTH EORLINGAS!

Rohan: (stories in rough in-universe chronological order)

Éomer-focused:

TFW Siblings Prompt: Éowyn is frustrated by Éomer’s attempt to protect her from Wormtongue.

Turning Points: Éomer is back from the war of the ring with a changed worldview and an intention to get married. Includes the first look at the character who becomes his wife.

A Vigilant Eye: A marital scene between Éomer and his wife, Mereliss, focused on Éomer’s stubborn need to never admit weakness. This is as spicy as any of my fics get, which is to say…only very mildly spicy.

A Need of the Soul: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Cute brotherly bonding moments, remembrances of Boromir and Théodred and lots of horse talk.

TFW Parent-Child Prompt: Éomer becomes a father for the first time and has lots of feelings about it.

TFW Extended Family Prompt: Éomer’s father in law, Elfhelm, realizes what he means to Éomer in light of the many losses Éomer has already experienced.

The Fire Inside: Éomer is back in Gondor after the war to help with the ongoing clean-up after Sauron, but his life has changed a lot and so have his feelings about battle so he needs Éowyn to help him talk it out.

Nowhere Else: A look back at how Éomer met his wife, told from both sides of the meeting. Includes a look at several other sweet moments from over their years together.

Théodred and Éomer art by Valeria Salo

Théodred-focused:

TFW Cut Ties Prompt: Traces the unshakable bond forged by shared grief between Théodred and Éomer, enduring all the way to Théodred’s literal last words.

Into the Breach: My most comprehensive look at Théodred the person and his backstory, told in the few days leading up to his death. It's more or less my answer to the question of what Théodred was doing in/around major canon events from LOTR. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Ties That Bind: A look at how Wormtongue’s manipulation of Théoden affected the larger royal family, as seen through Éomer’s experience when Théoden had him jailed. Théodred's fiancee is a key element of this fic, so I'm putting it with the other Théodred stories though he's not directly in it.

A Life Interrupted: Éomer reckoning with the death of Théodred. My original story with details of Théodred's life and my HC for him.

Háma-focused:

Those Worth Fighting For: Family fluff of Háma being a sweet dad to his little girl while shielding her from the reality of the increasing danger posed by Isengard.

TFW Freeform Prompt: Háma and his wife struggle with how to protect their children from the increasing likelihood of war.

Not This Time: The discovery of Háma’s body after the battle of Helm’s Deep has major consequences.

Other Rohirrim:

TFW Ancestors Prompt: Théoden’s father, Thengel, returns from exile against his will to take up the throne in Rohan.

Untitled intro piece about Guthláf: A short musing on what it means to Guthláf to be Théoden’s banner bearer.

Where Now the Horse and the Rider: The love story of Guthláf and Wídfara, trying to hold it together as the world falls apart around them. Part 1.

Untitled ficlet on Elfhild: A short intro to Théodred’s mother, who had a premonition she wasn’t going to survive his birth.

Lórien:

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel: Haldir meets his perfect match while posted for 3 weeks with a substitute marchwarden who understands and appreciates his natural reserve.

The Guardian: Haldir finds a lost and scared little human girl while on patrol in Lórien. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Epilogue.

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aphroditestummyrolls · 8 months

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Finally, finally, finally— in the next day or so (maybe tonight??) I’ll be posting the first chapter of the Wylan Whump Fic™️.

Until then: a snippet

“Jes, I… can we not talk about it right now? Can it wait?”

It hit him like a slap across the face.

“Can it—“ suddenly, he didn’t feel solid, like his fear shook his atoms loose. Every part of him was unsteady. “No, Wylan, it can’t wait, this is the second time in a week you’ve fully stopped breathing, and you—“

The pathway between his brain and his mouth seemed like a fucking labyrinth. Fumbling his words, Jes abruptly gave up and clicked his mouth shut— he didn’t know what to say or how to say it, but he needed to move. In the corner of his eye, Wylan’s slim, bony frame shrunk away from him. Like he was trying to disappear.

It hurt. These past months, he tried to not to take it all too personally— the evasion, the mystery, the things left unsaid. But, it had never been like this before.

What happened to you? He wanted to cry out. Why are you so afraid? Who hurt you?

It was just another question to add to the never ending mountain of them since he’d met Wylan. Where did you come from? How did a prince like you end up all the way down here? How do you know all the amazing things you know?

He used to ask every time the words popped into his head. It was so easy to let his mouth run, and Wylan was so easy to talk to— he should be easy to ask questions of, too. Right? Jesper said it all with awe and wonder, how do you know that? Or who taught you that? He hardly thought it would be… so unwelcome.

After Shu Han, he asked less. Wylan wouldn’t give more than a one or two word answer anyway— just a shrug, or duck his pretty face away from Jesper’s gaze.

Lately, it felt like he was standing in a blocked corridor with locked doors on all sides. Nowhere to go, and constantly knocking, calling for people who weren’t willing to answer— Da? How could he ever look his father in the eye again? Jesper had closed that proverbial door himself. Then there was Inej, Inej was gone. Nina wasn’t close enough. Kaz? Kaz didn’t let anyone in.

He expected it from Kaz— when had he ever gotten more than the bare minimum from him? Jes wasn’t blind, he knew what his value was to his best friend. He was a tool, easily manipulated. Kaz saw him as a child, and the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. Jesper was childish.

His fingers twitched, the tips of them rubbing like he could feel chips between them.

He knew what he was to Kaz.

But, what was he to Wylan?

Another question for the pile, he thought bitterly. He knows what you are— you told him everything. He’s too smart to hang around much longer. He knows you’re unreliable, can’t keep your mouth shut or your kruge in your pocket, or—

The window was permanently stuck open, and the curtains fluttered with the chill of the autumn twilight. Jesper practically tripped over his feet to the fresh air, shaking his head to clear it.

“Jes? Jes, please—“ Wylan’s voice was so small. The sound of it solidified in his chest like jagged ice. He flexed his hands with the urge to go to him, to hold him.

But, his touch wasn’t welcome. It had only made it all worse, hadn’t it?

Tugging his curls until he was sure he looked a bit insane, Jesper forced himself to turn around and face that voice.

Saints.

#not feeling too fabulous about it but I need to just put it into the world I’m spiraling again #wesper #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix #grishaverse #the wylan whump fic™️

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supernovafics · 1 year

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•*⁀➷ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍. ✭

supernovafics!

series

afterglow (completed)

in which you and steve were best friends until you weren’t. but maybe, hopefully, after years of not speaking, that can finally change

star of the show (completed) (18+)

in which you have to be steve harrington’s assistant for three months. he is a phenomenal actor that is known almost exclusively as an asshole. how bad could these three months be?

“i’ll be there for you” universe (ongoing)

a series of one shots and blurbs following you and your best friend, and now roommate, steve harrington

mini-series

end of beginning / beginning of end

in which during the summer of ‘84 steve visits family in chicago and meets you at a record store. the two of you immediately have a sort of pull towards one another and decide to start something that’s only meant to be a summer fling. as the end of summer nears, you realize that you may be in way too deep, and you take a step back from it all. however, maybe things can actually work out in the end for you two? or maybe not

never could've seen you coming / i've had no love like your love (18+)

in which a mutual wingman situation forces two strangers to talk to one another. both you and steve are only doing it to help your friends, but it surprises you how effortless talking to him is. simply the idea of love or even deeply liking someone has always made you nervous and scared, and would usually lead you to running away rather than facing your feelings. but, maybe it’s this unfamiliar comfort you find yourself quickly having with steve that can make you finally want to do the opposite of run and actually dive headfirst into what you’re feeling

cardigan / august / betty

the folklore trilogy. from the summer of 1984 to fall 1996

this could last forever (1) (2) (18+)

in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

one shots

invisible string

in which a plethora of coincidences keep pushing you and steve toward each other and you kind of hate it

it’s nights like these (18+)

in which the vecna events hurt you a lot more than you would allow yourself to admit to anyone. you lost your best friend, someone who was quite possibly your only true friend, and you just felt empty inside because of it. you somehow find solace in steve harrington and an unspoken bond forms between you two. you and him barely talk, though; talking is probably the last thing you do with one another. but, maybe, you should

the bug collector

in which after being thrown into the insanity happening within hawkins and somehow making it out alive, you feel different, to say the least. it’s hard to move on from everything that happened, or even fully process it, and steve is the only one that can make things feel even the slightest bit better

this is me trying

in which a moment at a party that led to a drunken kiss and a heartfelt admission pushes you and your best friend away from each other. after nearly a week of silence, it’s still hard to find the right words to say to steve and to find the right way to mend what feels as if it has been permanently broken. until you’re drunk at a bar and he is the one to come and get you.

peace

in which you and steve run into each other at a party. it’s been months since you two last talked— which was during a conversation that had ended on the sourest of notes— but now here you both are at a party that neither of you really even want to be at. just for a moment it feels okay to pretend that everything is fine between you two, but then it gets too hard. and instead, it’s unspokenly decided that perhaps this is the chance for you both to get that closure that neither of you got all those months ago

drabbles/blurbs

drunkenly admitting your feelings to bestfriend!steve

fwb!steve getting jealous at a guy flirting with you at a bar

boyfriend!steve is in a band and you go to one of his shows (18+)

strangers to lovers to enemies with steve harrington

slow dancing with bestfriend!steve

meeting eyes with steve harrington across a crowded room

you and bestfriend!steve go on a road trip

you and steve hate each other but you decide to help him when he gets sick

you and boyfriend!steve are (the worst) babysitters

being with steve but he’s still pining for nancy

your first shift at scoops ahoy with steve harrington

waiting for steve harrington to show up to your party

a lazy morning with boyfriend!steve (18+)

you and steve hate each other but robin will do anything to make you two become friends

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfication #joe keery x reader #joe keery smut #joe keery fluff #joe keery fic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

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yurrfttboyy · 1 year

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You’re roommate was undoubtedly into women, but some of the jokes he liked to make often left you thinking he may be border-line bi. He was known for being the funny guy, so you would usually brush his jokes off, but that got harder once he found out about your foot fetish.

Since that day, he never wears shoes in the apartment anymore. You constantly find his discarded, smelly socks tossed carelessly on your bed & notes on the dining room table about once a week asking you to do his laundry for him. You could tell he was enjoying teasing you, but was too scared to have a conversation about it.

One evening you two are chilling in the living room, his bare foot is propped up on the coffee table and he looks over at you; you are staring at his foot like a bitch in heat. He chuckles, then nonchalantly says, “y’know, you could be my footslave, but there’s something you’d have to do for me”

You froze, taken back by his outburst, and then decided to find out what he meant. “What do you mean” you asked, as he took a sip of his beer and wiggled his toes.

“You ever heard of a chastity belt before?” He asked, flashing you a wicked grin. You nodded your head yes, trying to process what was going on. “You let me put one on you & keep the keys, and I promise I’ll give you more of my feet than you can handle. Every. Single. Day. And you know how stinky my socks can get. What do you say?” He teased, wiggling his toes as he spoke and making your boner flex uncontrollably.

Needless to say you agreed, although he knew you’d do just about anything to get a chance to taste his feet! But not much has changed since then, except the fact that you now spend all of your time at home pampering & adoring his big, often sweaty feet. He still brings home all kinds of girls to fuck, only now they seem to be less quiet than they used to, and he still never wears shoes in the apartment. He’s still as funny as ever with his jokes, only now his favorite thing to joke about is your inability to touch yourself and the constant chastity that you agreed to just for the ability to worship his stinky feet. He told you that you can have the keys whenever you want them, but once he gives them to you his feet will be gone from your life forever.

You and him both know that you’re never going to ask for the keys, his feet own you. He started wearing the keys on a necklace now just to further taunt you, but just the other day he made a comment about ‘tying the knot’ between you and his feet and taking a trip to the coast to throw the keys in the ocean. He joked about it like it was ‘the next step’, making it sound like a big ceremony that would bind me to his feet forever, comparing it to marriage; and all you could do was cry inside as you continued to lick his feet and pray that he wasn’t serious. You realized he was when he snapped his fingers and demanded your credit card so that he could book the room…in that moment it became clear how permanent this situation was about to become, but you still handed him the credit card and then went right back to licking his feet.

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violetlunette · 1 year

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If you’ve seen the mha 373 leaks, im genuinely curious, what do you think about people disliking mics intention of having oboro “stay as a nice memory”? Personally i like mic more because of that line but thats my opinion. Oh and what are your predictions of whats gonna happen with kuroboro?

Spoilers for MHA 373

First, let’s look at it from his POV;

Within a short period, Mic has gone through hell. First, he’s had his old wounds torn open by discovering that the corpse of his best friend was turned into one of the enemies that nearly killed Aizawa. A friend he has been looking out for since he was 16.

Then when he tries to fix the issue, a war that destroys an entire city is started, and thousands of innocent people, whom he swore to protect were injured or killed.

And in that same battle, he loses yet another friend, who he has known since high school. And his remaining friend not only nearly dies but loses an eye and a leg. To top it off, Mic probably blames himself for Aizawa’s pain, as from his POV, Aizawa was only there because of him. Aizawa said straight up; “if you’re going, I’ll go too.” Mic was in tears seeing his friend in pain but couldn’t do a thing.

Then after that, Mic spends endless hours trying to fix the damage and calm a bunch of people who are rightfully scared and emotional while keeping his students safe.

Now, here’s a question for the fandom; what if it’s not Oboro who wakes up but Kurogiri? Now really think about it. What happens?

Answer; Kurogiri rejoins AFO’s side and uses his teleportation powers to help the villains kill more innocent people. Now a major faction of the MHA fandom has made it clear they could care less if innocent civilians die, but the heroes do care! They are risking everything so that more innocent people don’t die or are hurt. That has been their job since the beginning, and it’s one they take seriously.

It’s heartbreaking and unfortunate, but if Kurogiri is the one who wakes up and Oboro, then for the greater good, it would be best if Mic kills him. If Kurogiri wakes up, it’ll make it the heroes' ability to end this war and fix things, maybe even stop them. And if the heroes don’t end it here, then Japan falls into even more chaos, and more people get hurt.

Mic couldn’t stop the war. Mic couldn’t protect his friend. What he can do is stop Kurogiri from using Oboro’s corpse to hurt anyone else and protect Aizawa, who has been through hell.

Aizawa saw his student nearly die in front of him. Then he loses an eye and a leg. Then he wakes up in a hospital to learn that not only has one of his students run away but one of his best friends is dead. To add the cherry on top, Aizawa later discovers that a student he trusted set him, and the rest of his class, to die twice. Is it any wonder Mic would want to spare him that pain?

Plus, Mic knows Oboro wouldn’t want to be used like this. He wanted to help people, but he had his body stolen and turned into a nomu. Oboro is the type of person who’d rather die than continue harming others.

So, to no one’s surprise, I agree with Hizashi.

If Kurogiri, not Oboro wakes up, it would be best for the world, Aizawa, and Oboro for Hizashi to kill him. It would be a tragic choice that would severely damage Hizashi emotionally, but for the greater good, it would be the best. (Even if the action will make Aizawa hate him.)

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t want Oboro to die. Hizashi and Aizawa have been through enough. In fact, I’m hoping Oboro recognizes Mic and joins him to be the hero he always wanted to be. I think they’ll team up against Spinner, who I hope they can knock out and help before the transformation is permanent.

But this is all based on what I’ve heard and from the leaks. I’ll have to read the actual chapter before I give my thoughts.

#it also helps that Kurogiri is technically already dead #he's literally a reanimated corpse #how much he's Oboro is debatable #he could just be a nomu with access to Oboro's memories #but it doesn't surprise me that the fandom's starting to turn on Mic #anyone that stands up to the league of terrorists is instantly hated #though I will admit Kurogiri is a different case all together #but I digress #bnha #mha #present mic #bnha spoilers #mha 373 #bnha 373 #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi

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babyfairy · 8 months

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feeling very resentful and angry tonight and just bitter towards the whole world and usually these feelings really trigger a lot of OCD fueled guilt (negative thinking = bad = punishment by the universe) but at this point it’s just like. i’ve already tried praying, manifesting, medicine, therapy, crisis lines, talking it out, expressing how i feel, journaling, keeping it all to myself, being open and vulnerable about it, etc etc etc it doesn’t matter. it does not improve or get better. in fact it kind of only seems to get worse the more i wish and hope for things to get better. so i think i’m ready to just accept it and stop hoping for it to relent in some way. doesn’t make it suck less and i feel like i’m losing myself in all of my grief and sorrow and anger but i just feel so blank and flat and apathetic about losing my sense of self. and just about everything honestly. feel so devoid of any sort of passion even about the things i love. nothing around me is permanent so why bother? everything i care about and love is temporary. i just anticipate the next loss or the next hurt and that’s it. even the small pockets of joy are ruined by the underlying worry that it won’t last and i’ll sink back into the same hole i’ve been in for over a year now. lol! like i’m not trying to sound unhinged i’m genuinely physically fine like i’m sitting on the couch relaxing. i’m of sound mind when i say all this. i hate living, and i am tired and embarrassed about my desperation to find some sort of peace or enjoyment in life. i don’t have the energy to try anymore right now 🫶🏼 maybe i will find it again or maybe i won’t. i don’t care lol it doesn’t seem to matter either way!

#i hope if reincarnation exists i get to be something without any thoughts or feelings

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innocentlymacabre · 1 year

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Batter Up

“You came!” Raj called out as Sahir stepped onto the bridge. A river coursed strongly beneath, and the full moon cast a serene glow over them. The single streetlight that lit the small structure was dulled, washing a yellowed hue over the evening. Under different circumstances, Sahir might have even found the whole thing romantic.

Most importantly, less angry circumstances. Raj had requested Sahir’s presence at the bridge via an egregious note slipped into his pocket in place of his wallet. When he stole it.

Sahir was ready to give the self-assured jerk a piece of his mind, but decided he would pick his moment. Calmness – for now – was the way forward.

“You stole my wallet,” he replied, keeping a level cadence.

“True, true. But you could have just as easily sent someone else,” Raj replied, dancing around Sahir. Literally. It was like the slick bugger couldn’t stay still for a single moment. He bounded across the cobbled pathway, covering the distance between them with a few strides, then continued to irritatingly circle Sahir.

“Your little note said you would only give it to me.”

Staying calm was getting harder by the second.

“Alright, you got me there. Still though, there’s something else going on here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Admit it.”

“Give me my damn wallet, will you? And you better not have taken a single penny.”

“I like the way you say that word.”

Sahir didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. If he was going to tease him about barely swearing, he would have to do it unprompted.

Raj continued anyway. “Penny. Drips off your tongue.”

Sahir glared at him, the heathen finally having come to a halt in front of him. “You just about done with this whole dance?” He punctuated the last word with a little extra sting.

“Fine, fine, I’ll give you your wallet.” Raj could tell he was losing him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer the big shot would care about the paltry sum encased in what was trying very hard to look like rich leather. “If - ”

“I will murder you,” Sahir said, cutting him off before he could continue his inane little game.

He glanced at his watch to mark the time of death on his decision of calmness. He suspected it pointed to a little impatience which would probably work to his advantage here. As luck would have it, the wallet Raj had stolen was a tattered old piece and he hated carrying cash. There were maybe a couple of tenners in there, his cards were all loaded on his phone so he didn’t carry the physical ones, and the wallet itself was worth less than the cash sum. The perceived impatience had some measure of truth to it.

“Alright, alright, ease up,” Raj chuckled, tossing him the wallet.

Sahir pulled a face. “Hyperbole. You’re the criminal.”

“Thief, not murderer. Big difference.”

“Potato-potahto.”

“Come now, don’t be like that. You have to admit it – this whole thing impressed you. Just a little. The delicate switch, the romantic secret rendezvous, just me and you. You can’t tell me it did nothing for you.”

“You’ll have to do better than that to impress me.”

“Implying that I’m getting another chance to try?”

“Implying I’m so far out of your league, your silhouette has dissolved into the horizon.”

Sahir turned to leave in a huff, not wanting to spend a single extra minute around Raj. Something about him made his skin crawl – and it wasn’t just that he had stolen from him. They way he danced around, as if he was too good to stand. That permanently cocked grin on his face, so completely sure of himself. He acted like he owned the ground he walked on. Sahir hated him.

Not to mention the fact that he could actually buy the ground they were on. Sahir resented the snooty thought the moment it passed through his mind, but he it did help tip the balance of power to a more even position. In his mind, at least. Raj probably saw that attitude when he picked him as a mark.

“See you soon, Sahir!” Raj called out, one arm waving high over his head and the other bent behind his back.

He watched Sahir walk away – with no small amount of satisfaction – and brought his arm out from behind his back to reveal the latest lift’s spoils. He turned his newly acquired pendant around in his hand. It was missing a string, but the ornament itself was unscathed. It had a swirling pattern engraved into the black wood, with a smiley face set into the foreground. Raj couldn’t tell if the design unsettled him or calmed him. Bits of both, he finally settled on.

Imagining Sahir’s reaction to the new note brought a smile to his face. He was going to be supremely irked. And hopefully a little impressed when he finally shows up. Raj had something even more romantic planned for their second tete-a-tete.

↝✧↝

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unlucky-tears · 5 months

Text

Yan sim rewrite !!

♡

Part 1: Ayano Aishi

Or…Haruka Aishi!

Design compared to original:

Name meaning: Her name is now changed to Haruka to fit her character more! It means eternity and permanence. Like she was to be with Senpai/Taro for all eternity and keep him in her arms and permanence like she would keep these rivals out of Senpai’s reach permanently. According to her Kanji in her name (晴香) it can also mean spring which is the season the game is set in.

Character description:

For as long as she could remember she always felt different. And don’t take that lightly. Haruka was scary in the young children’s eyes, was it perhaps the way she looked at them? Was it the way she spoke? Or was it the way she acted. While she didn’t care too much about this her father was severely worried about that…for whatever reason. Her father was very protective and always made sure to tell her how to act around others. Soon enough to fix her attitude she became a sweet and innocent girl in the eyes of others. It’s only in high school when she met a boy did she start to care how she ACTUALLY appeared. She was in love and there was no denying it, his charming and mysterious personality just made her fall head over heels! But when she realised there would be obstacles in the way, she knew she would have to deal with them accordingly. But in each one that comes along, her cutesy exterior cracks more and more with each girl she eliminates.

My reasons:

For this we call her Ayano since this is Yandere Dev’s ‘character’.

In Ayano’s video on how she talks about her childhood, Ayano monologues about her life, explaining that she has always felt "hollow" and "empty" which is already a bad take for her character. It shows that Yandere Dev didn’t know what to do with her personality, and she suddenly gets emotions over a boy? I could consider it okay if she had Alexithymia, the trouble of expressing or feeling emotions but Yandere Dev was just going for an anime trope and not an actual character which is really irritating.

For my rewrite I decided to make her psychopathic(it’s genetic you’ll see when I talk about her parents) but due to her fathers worry she’d hide this with a cute and innocent facade. This will be very useful for gameplay and the story as it gives you an advantage, to be popular and praised instead of joining clubs. While you can still join them and still have those things to help you with certain tasks it shouldn’t be what makes Ayano popular. Also yes she does talk to Senpai and she doesn’t creepily follow him around, she wants to actually have a chance with him after all.

So…if Info Chan important for Ayano?

No. She isn’t. She isn’t even in this rewrite cause personally I think she ruins the games whole thing, trying to win Senpai on your own. Callimara explains this well but I’ll explain it as well.

Removing her from the rewrite will make the player and Ayano less like a puppet. If the player actually explores the school on their own they could figure it out by themselves without going through a whole gaming tutorial. I like the actual tutorial in the canon game with the drama play the Drama club are doing with a murder plan. But the rest needs to be purely up to the player. I think it would be more enjoyable and interesting that way. Of course you’d still have obstacles when Ayano is so popular but that’s a challenge the player would have to deal with and navigate in the game.

#yandere simulator #ayano aishi #yansim #yansim rewrite #Yan sim redesign #Ayano Aishi redesign

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

Text

Dannymay26

Overcome

Danny learns fast that his core has an idea of what his body is supposed to look like.

And because of this, Danny also learns that he doesn’t have to worry about any injuries he sustains while fighting ghosts. So long as it isn’t life threatening, so long as he can tough it out, it will heal, and it will be fine.

His core will rend flesh back into the state his body took before the accident. It’s like pulling back time; he regenerates it all. So long as he’s still alive, he can fix himself, so why not take a bullet for Amity. Why not take this bullet, and the next, and every wound after.

A little pain is nothing in the face Amity’s safety. So many people are at risk of being hurt every day, injury that won’t just sew itself back together, without even the barest scar for evidence.

If Danny breaks his arms, that’s one person that won’t have their own stuck in casts for weeks. If Danny breaks his arms, given a day or two, his core has worked it’s magic and it basically didn’t happen.

(He doesn’t think of the snapping sound as bones crunch and muscles tear. He doesn’t think of his own voice screaming in his ears, as he’s unable to silence it. He doesn’t think of pain beyond explanation, because it’s fine. It will be fine. He just has to endure and he’ll be better. He’ll always get better. He just has to live and everybody else can too!)

There’s no permanent damage. Its like it didn’t happen. It doesn’t matter.

oOo

“Oh my God.” Tucker said. “Oh my God.”

Sam hovered over Danny as he hyperventilated, holding his shaking hands down so he didn’t try to touch his eyes again.

(His eyes. his eyes. His fucking eyes are gone. She’d ripped them out, what the fuck.)

“What do we do?” Tucker asked sounding even more panicked, “Gods, his eyes, Sam. What are we supposed to-“

“We just have to wait and it’ll heal!” Sam snapped, as if she had any idea what she was doing. As if she wasn’t just as horrified, because one of them had to keep it together. She could curl up and scream later, right now she needed to be there.

Danny flinched at the sound of yelling, and Sam shouldn’t have looked at his face because now she couldn’t look away from the empty, uneven holes, leaking blood and ectoplasm like a Goddamn fountain.

“Keep your eyes closed, Danny!” She yelled, breaking composure. She wasn’t even sure if that was safe, but less blood loss would surely be bad, even in this situation, wouldn’t it be?

“I’m-“ Danny choked, “I’ll be fine.” He said ignoring her instructions and attempting to pull his hands out of hers.

“What have your- has this happened before?” Sam asked, holding onto him tighter.

“N-no. But my injuries heal. They- they always do. This will too.” He sounded so pained.

“You don’t know that.” Tucker nearly wailed, “What if your- your eyes do heal, and you’re-“ Tucker thankfully managed to cut himself off, but now Sam was thinking of the possibility. What if this did blind Danny? What would they do? How would they explain it away?

She shook her head. One terrible thing at a time. “Tucker get me a towel.” She ordered.

It seemed he was thankful for the reason to be away from all this even for a moment, because he bounded away immediately. Sam knew that he wouldn’t just leave no matter how bad it got. Even if this was a lot for him, he’d stay for Danny, same as she would.

He came back with two towels, having wet one of them, helpfully. As he handed them to her, Sam caught his eyes spasming over Danny’s face.

It was fair, he looked fucking horrifying right now. His blood-streak tears were something out of a horror movie, and as Sam wiped down his face and eye-holes, she wanted only to turn away from that nothing-stare and cry.

She stopped, dropping the towel, as Danny let out a pained howl. She resolved to burn the blood soaked cloths, as Danny yanked his hands back and over where his eyes should be.

Sam was so glad her parents were out, because there was no way they’d be able to hide the sound of Danny’s choked yelling as he started to heal.

Sam felt like she might be sick; they couldn’t see his eyes fixing themselves, but the sound echoed through her room. It was like someone was popping wet bubble wrap, a broken up swelling sound she couldn’t ignore.

Evidently, that was Tucker’s straw, because he bent over her dustbin, retching. He’d definitely grown a tolerance to injury since the started “ghost hunting”, but Tucker was still definitely the most squeamish of all of them. She didn’t blame him for it, but the sound of him throwing up alongside whatever the fuck Danny’s eyes were doing was going to drive her to insane.

Soon, all that was left was the sound of Danny gagging as he tried to breathe. His hands dropped, bloody, but his eyes looked as blue as they ever been. Danny blinked as he calmed down eyes dragging across the room. It was a safe bet that he could see, and Sam really didn’t want to ask so she let it be.

“I’ll go get you some water.” Tucker said with a cough, before leaving to do so.

Danny murmured thanks as he slumped against Sam. “…I really hate Spectra.”

Sam held back a hysterical laugh, only nodding as she held him, masking her shaking with his own as she tried not to break.

oOo

Jazz didn’t know what to do. Nothing could have ever prepared her for one of her brother’s friends dragging an unconscious Danny into the house with one less arm.

She needed to call someone. Her parents, an ambulance. Screw Danny’s secret, his arm was gone!

“It’ll grow back.” Sam said tiredly. “All we have to do is wait.”

And Jazz hated the idea that they had done this before. That Danny might have regrown entire limbs with only his friends to notice what he’d gone through. Jazz cursed herself for not butting in sooner, but at the same time what could she have done. She was helping Danny now and she hadn’t been able to stop this.

She wondered how it happened, and immediately stopped, because if she kept thinking about it that vividly she was going to be sick.

She ran a hand through Danny hair as he grit out pained sounds, screeched and yelped, as the flesh and bone built up from his bleeding stub.

For the first time, Jazz couldn’t complain that the basement was soundproofed. Although this was a prime example of why it shouldn’t have been. Their parents couldn’t hear if one of them needed help or was hurt. Or was growing back their entire arm, what the Hell-

Jazz kept her body relaxed, murmured soft comfort, watching in morbid fascination as Danny’s muscles stretched and twisted over each other, as Danny’s bones built up a horrific baseline.

Sam was still in the room, breathing shaking as she leaned against the wall, eyes closed. She didn’t seem to be ignoring what was happening but she was definitely distancing herself from the moment. Jazz wondered how many times she had filled this roll of support, if she had had to watch flesh rend and bones snap as Danny lay in her arms.

It wasn’t fair. They were kids. They shouldn’t have to be the ones to do this.

Then, if the world were fair, Danny wouldn’t be dead in the first place.

So Jazz, stayed there, until Danny’s arm was back with off-shade skin, and his breathing had evened.

Stayed until Danny was awake and gasping and clinging to her the way he had when he’d scraped his knees when he was ten.

oOo

Tucker tried.

He tried, but he hated this so much. But then, he supposed this wasn’t about him.

Tucker pushed his blanket down on Danny’s wound as Danny hissed, doing his best to staunch the bleeding.

When was he going to start healing? When did his ghost powers think he was dying enough to start working? This was such bullshit.

He didn’t even noticed when Sam came in, vision tunneling.

“What the fuck happened?” She’d screamed as quietly as she could.

Heck if he knew. Danny had crashed into his room apologizing that he’d been closest, as though Tucker’s hemophobia was at all his fault.

“I got impaled.” Danny informed, cheerfully through a gasp as though there was anything funny about this. Tucker just kept pressing the blanket down; Gods, he was gonna have to wash this-

Sam gave Danny an unimpressed look, shutting the door and dropping herself at Danny’s side.

“Do you need anything?” She asked and Tucker tried to comprehend the meaning behind her words, but the initial shock of her being there had worn off and she was fading into the background.

“Tucker’s had it handled, b-but…”

“Right.”

And then Tucker’s hands were being gently pulled off of Danny. His head snapped up and his eyes met Sam’s.

“Take a break, Tuck. I’ve got it from here.” She reassured, putting pressure back on Danny wound, making his breath hitch.

Tucker didn’t know what he was taking a break from. All he’d done was press a blanket over the hole in Danny’s stomach. Danny’s the one who got a freaking hole punched through him! He was being overdramatic.

Regardless of that, Tucker nodded, slowly shambling to the bathroom, unable to focus on anything except the blood on his hands.

If Danny wasn’t still bleeding out in the other room, he might have stayed there longer, letting water run over his stained hands, but Danny was his friend. Even if Tucker wasn’t especially helpful when this stuff happened he still wanted to be there for him.

So he did his best to ignore the itch in his hands. Tried to focus on Danny’s face, holding his hand as his torso knitted itself back together. Helped him stay upright as his breathing steadied. And hoped to all Hell that this wouldn’t happen again.

(He knew it would.)

oOo

He couldn’t see. He could barely breathe.

For an agonizing while, all Danny knew was a seething pain on every inch of his skin, that would spike with the barest movements. It was so much that he almost couldn’t process it, but he still could and it hurt.

All he could do was lie as still as was possible and pray that he would just pass out.

He couldn’t even be tired; he was too overwhelmed. He wondered if he was screaming. He wondered if he was crying.

Then, he wondered if he was having a nightmare, because even if dreams didn’t feel so vivid as this, the way hands pressed into his burnt-bloody skin and made the pain impossibly worse. It hurt too much to be real, and all Danny could do was endure as he was pulled along and readjusted.

Time stretched on and the only thing Danny had to ground him in that whirlwind of paralyzing agony was the feel of his own skin peeling away against well-meaning hands like too-wet dough.

Eventually, thankfully, his skin began to blister and twist and stretch. Danny panted and wheezed as his healing factor began overworking itself. Muscles began to shift and swell and Danny could actually hear himself, could hear someone else, “God, your going to be okay. Just hang in there.” Sam(?) murmured in his ears.

It hurt so much, but he just had to endure. He just had to keep going.

But it hurt. It hurt. It hurt so much, please he just wanted it to stop-

Danny almost screamed, but someone was there clamping a quivering hand over his mouth, shakily shushing him.

“Shit.” Sam muttered sounding downright nauseous, and Danny wanted so badly to comfort her. Instead, he writhed for some long minutes as his crisp-blackened eyes blew up like flesh balloons inside his head.

He opened his eyes, blurry and wet, to see Sam and Tucker at his side. He tried to raise an arm, pushing through the throbbing sensation. As he reached to move Tucker’s hand, still gently clamped over his mouth, he caught sight of the fresh skin that covered every inch of him, pink like a newborn’s.

His hand landed on Tucker’s wrist, unable to flex far enough to wrap around it. Immediately the hand snapped back and Danny let out an sobbing, keening sound at the way his skin peeled with it.

“I can’t- I’m going to be sick.” Tucker said and then that blob in his vision was backed up against the wall, breathing deeply.

Danny wished they never had to see him like this. Wished that he couldn’t just tough it out on his own, but a selfish part of him never wanted them to stop, even if they could only be there.

He felt hair push from his regrown scalp in horribly itchy chunks, and felt his throat contract around nothing a few times, before he finally spit up bile and dead cells.

Danny rolled off his side, stumbling to his knees as he coughed and choked.

Eventually, all that was left were his heaving breathes in the silence of the—his—room.

A hand touched his shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. Sam pulled back as though she’d been bit.

Danny offered her a shaky smile, “Sorry about that. I’m good, I just… need a minute.” He reassured, trying not to rasp.

Sam gave him a harsh look, “Danny you got electrocuted!” She whisper-shouted, voice tight with unshed tears.

Danny felt something heavy in his head, felt like he himself was about to break down crying and never stop. But he kept his breathing steady and held those feelings away. If he didn’t think about it, it was like it never happened.

“But I’m fine now, honest. I’m all healed up!” He tried to say the words with cheer or at least nonchalance, but it all sounded so artificial. It was true though; he felt a little raw, but he was fully healed up. Surely they could see that. They would realize it too.

(They never did. That’s why he loved them.)

“No you’re not.” Tucker said, sounding vaguely sick. Despite still being shaken, his friend moved to his side, wrapping him in a hug. His skin was sensitive, but as his walls crumbled he couldn’t bring himself to care, melting into the embrace. Sam joined and Danny found himself relaxing further, tears falling as he returned the hug.

It had hurt. It had hurt so much, but it was over now. For now.

Danny could pretend the the nightmares wouldn’t come, could pretend that it didn’t happen, that it didn’t matter. Because his friends were here. He was healed. And for now, he really was fine, because with them by his side, he could overcome any injury.

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