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rhettabbotts · 6 months

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"you've made me the happiest I've ever been" with DILF!Rhett it just screams him once he's found love again 🥹🥹

the moment i knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: the one where rhett finds himself falling in love again.

warnings: none. just some good ole fluff with our favorite old man.

It was the perfect autumn day. The sun was high in the sky. There was a slight breeze through the air but your hands were warm from the hot apple cider in the paper cup you were carrying around the pumpkin patch. Grace and Ellie were walking, nearly running, ahead of you and Rhett in the corn maze. They insisted they knew which way to go and Rhett couldn’t hold back his grin every time you ran into a dead end.

“Remind me to never go anywhere with them when they start driving,” you joked, not paying attention to the way you inserted yourself into Rhett’s future. It was still new, this thing between you and him. You had not established what you were yet and here you were planning on being there when his daughters reached driving age.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll be glad to have someone around to help me teach them because god knows they’ll probably give me a heart attack,” Rhett joked, his rough - much larger hand - intertwined with yours. “I haven’t seen them smile like this in a long time. They really only smile like that when you’re around.”

“Oh, I don’t think- I mean corn mazes make everyone happy. Except for the haunted ones. I could never go through a haunted one. I would probably cry-” you stopped talking when you saw Rhett’s smile. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“I love it,” he grinned, tightening his grip on your hand.

Grace was calling your name from just a few feet in front of you and she was so excited to show you the ear of purple corn she just found. You walked with her and Ellie, leaving Rhett to trail behind several paces. He couldn’t stop the way his heart fluttered watching you joke and laugh with his daughters. He thought it would’ve been impossible to find love again, especially after his nasty divorce from the girls’ mother.

You made it easy. Your smile could like up any room you walked into and you took everything with stride. You accepted him with wounded heart and the life he had built before you. And you loved his girls. That was more than he could ever ask for.

He inhaled deeply as the thought crossed his mind. It hit him like a runaway freight train. Swift and hard. He loved you. He was in love with you and he could see himself being with you for a very long time.

Rhett kept the thought to himself as you found your way out of the maze and the girls took off to the bounce house they had set up. You walked beside one another, pinkies locking and arms swinging as you made your way to a vacant hay bale.

“They’re going to be asleep the second we leave here,” you observed, smiling softly to yourself as you watched them play.

“Hey,” Rhett spoke, voice a little shaky.

“Hmm?”

“I just- I wanted to tell you that- you’ve really made such an impact on the girls. They adore you.”

“They’re the best,” you said.

“And you’ve made an impact on me, too. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I wanted you to know that. This- what we’re doing- it’s not me messing around. I’m in this.”

You fought back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip. Heart soaring, you wrapped your arms tight around his neck. And he pulled you in closer. A hug that felt like a promise. A promise that you’d never let go of one another.

“I love you, Rhett. I’m sorry. I- I couldn’t hold that in any longer.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, let’s go wrangle those turkeys.”

And as you walked back to the truck, Ellie on one hip and Grace holding your other hand, Rhett found his new beginning. With no one else other than his favorite girls in the entire world.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #dilf rhett 4 ever <3 #rhett x babysitter #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott drabble

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | teaser + drop date

Hi all you lovely people 🥰

I just want to give you an update on ‘My Heart’s Home’, because I said I’d hoped to be able to post it this week (week 9), but I have to push it one more week— IT HAS BEEN RELEASED; chapter 1 🥳

And then, a chapter will be posted twice a week! (on Mondays and Thursdays)

I want to thank each and every one of you— especially those on the taglist and @letjungcoook7! Thank you so much for being interested in the story, and Lua, for reading some of it and hyping me up 🥹 To be honest, I didn’t think anyone could be interested in it, or care. So I’m over the moon, and I hope you will enjoy it ✨

*the book cover is just me having fun lol, I couldn’t help myself 😂 Because you’ve been so patient and nice, I’ll give you a 1.2k teaser for ‘My Heart’s Home’.

Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite?

Pairing: jimin x reader (main) and jungkook x reader (one time). There’s other pairings throughout the story, but those aren’t with the reader, but between the other characters— there’s one mxm relationship but it’s very minor.

Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au

Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!)

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count for the teaser: 1.2k (approx. 180k for whole series)

Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh* @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, please check out this lovely post about it.

Looking for the masterlist?

In the morning, you gradually rouse to the sensation of something firm pressing against your face, yet there's an unexpected tenderness, a gentle caress against your skin. Your pillow, typically mundane, now cradles your head in an oddly satisfying manner, prompting you to nuzzle into it, seeking additional solace. A contented murmur escapes your lips in fatigue as you attempt to stretch your limbs, only to discover the subtle ache that permeates your entire body.

Wait.

Your eyes snap open in realization. This isn't the familiar embrace of your bed, and the comforting pillow beneath your head is anything but ordinary. A surge of awareness courses through you as you come to terms with an unexpected reality – you're sprawled across Jimin's thigh.

More precisely, you’re nestled against his groin, where you abruptly discover the undeniable evidence of his morning arousal.

You spring to attention, the warmth of embarrassment coloring your cheeks, heart racing like a runaway train against your ribcage. In the hazy glow of early morning, you fumble for the most sincere apology you can conjure, breathlessly exclaiming, “Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry!”

As you settle onto the couch, your gaze locks with his still sleepy and drowsy eyes. The realization hits that you both must have drifted off in this intimate position, with you cradled in the warmth of his inviting lap.

Jimin's chuckle resonates like a melodious tune in the early morning, a soothing sound that plays a soft serenade to your ears. Despite your efforts to steady your heartbeat and contain the fluttering sensations, his laughter creates a symphony that dances through the awakening air.

“It's okay. I just woke up,” he rises and stretches, a lazy yawn escaping his lips. Why does he have to look this enticing? His blonde locks cascade in unruly curls, framing a face that's both soft and slightly puffy from sleep. Those pink lips, as if kissed by the night, slightly nibbled, beckon dangerous thoughts. As he stretches, biceps tensing and shirt teasingly riding up, a glimpse of his happy trail emerges, a sight your eyes try to resist but fail. Damn it, you scold yourself, but then his armpit becomes visible, and even that seems inexplicably appealing.

Oh, he smells divine—powdery softness, a hint of sweetness, warmth, and richness all mingling to craft an intoxicating musky scent. It envelops you, leaving your entire being tingling with an irresistible allure.

Jimin appears entirely unfazed, but you're left feeling utterly flustered, convinced your cheeks must be ablaze. “I'm so sorry for dozing off on you. I meant to offer you my bed, but I guess I fell asleep before I could say anything,” you chuckle, trying to shake off the lingering traces of sleep from your weary body.

A sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning.

Oh my god. If you’re sore, Jimin must be too! You practically slept on his injured leg!

“I apologize for your leg—I can't believe I slept on it. I might have undone all the massage from yesterday,” you groan in frustration, scolding yourself for your apparent weakness for this man. He's your childhood friend, the one who came and told you that you belong— at the place you once called home, reigniting something dormant within you, a feeling that has slumbered for centuries, now awakening and blossoming slowly.

“It's really okay,” he assures you with a soft squeeze to your leg. His hand feels firm and warm, mirroring his comforting presence. You realize a desire for more, but you tread carefully on dangerous waters, doing your best to keep your more horny thoughts in check.

“I'll have to head back soon,” he says, punctuating his statement with another heartfelt yawn, a languid stretch emphasizing the inevitable departure.

“Do you like pancakes? I could whip up a batch before you head out,” you suggest, caught between the genuine desire to treat him to a hearty breakfast and the subtle hope that it might extend his stay, sparing him the long drive on an empty stomach.

“Absolutely,” he responds, his soft smile revealing a glimpse of those charmingly crooked teeth. As you rise from your seat and head into the kitchen to whip up the pancakes, a subtle urgency whispers in your mind, warning that if you linger too long, keeping your hands to yourself might become an increasingly challenging feat.

With a culinary flair, you whip up the pancakes in record time, the aroma of warm batter filling the air. As you both settle around the small dining table, the atmosphere is filled with the comforting clinks of cutlery against plates. Amidst bites of fluffy pancakes, Jimin unveils the captivating tale of wild horses roaming the ranch, a narrative that unfolds with tales of Yoongi's quest to tame these untamed spirits, turning them into dependable companions through a gentle, patient approach.

Fascinated, you ponder the intricacies of Jimin's story. “I had no idea such a thing was possible,” you muse, savoring a sip of water as if to quench not just your thirst but also your curiosity.

“Yoongi has a real knack for gentling horses, it's like second nature to him,” he shares, his smile lighting up the room as he effortlessly joins you in tidying up after the meal.

As the moment lingers, a subtle sense of farewell hovers in the air, but you're not quite ready to part ways with Jimin. The warmth of his company, the echoes of the past, all make you wish he didn't have to leave just yet.

Gratitude colors his words as he stands in the hallway, boots on, ready to step out into the world again. “Thank you for having me over,” he expresses, his gaze carrying a blend of sincerity and a hint of reluctance.

“No problem,” you respond with a soft smile, “having you here was truly enjoyable.”

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers in your eyes for what feels like an eternity. There you stand, like a lovestruck fool, anticipating the one thing your brain has been yearning for since you glimpsed his softly bitten lips in the morning. The hope in his voice resonates, causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest once more.

Your gaze rises to meet his, and as he strides closer, his eyes lock onto yours. The proximity is electrifying; you sense his warm breath teasing your face, and anticipation builds as he leans in, closing the space between you.

You surrender to the moment, shutting your eyes as his warm hands cradle your cheeks. A delicate touch, his nose brushes against yours, setting off a delightful jolt that courses through your entire being. Then, in a tender ascent, his plush lips descend upon your forehead, leaving an imprint of warmth that lingers.

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his biceps, a reflexive response to the unexpected closeness. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as the realization dawns – he's kissing your forehead, a gentlemanly gesture that leaves a trail of warmth lingering on your skin.

He withdraws, and as you open your eyes, his warm, smiling face is the last thing you see. “See you at home,” he whispers, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a lingering promise in the air.

As he gracefully exits the room, descending the stairs with an effortless charm, your heart beats wildly, a flutter of butterflies threatening to carry you away. Your entire being tingles, breath caught in a sweet suspension. A lovestruck smile plays on your lips, lingering like the echo of his presence.

Home.

He wants you to come home.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year

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Hi! Hello how are you? I hope you're doing well!

So i would like to make a request, can you please make one where the reader is a runaway child, going on adventures and seeing new places and helping lots of other people, And as how she was able to survive that long is because she is a witch who tampers with dark magic, that's why she's running away from her previous life.

She died due to the people who she ran away from, found her and they ripped out all her organs in revenge (gruesome i know) as was then dubbed the traitor child

She is also on the human side, so may i request with all the human figthers so far? Or if not, maybe king leonidas, qin shi Huang, kojiro, tesla, adam and aswell as some other gods like thor, hades and poseidon and as for how her story goes. This is how it went

She goes into the arena, other people expecting another grown man. But to their surprise it was a child, the crowd burst into an outrage, but she calms them down saying that can handle it and that no one needs to worry and that she'll make them proud, when her opponent talks to her she is polite and respectful, they then fight when her opponent hits first, she teleports behind them. The fight then soon ends and she wins, the gods and humans in shock! Did this child really win against a god? After that she meets up with the people who i mentioned this to be for.

You can decide after that! Thank you very much

-Traitor, demon, witch, evil, those were all words that you remember well, being called those numerous times, despite being a child.

-You ran away from your home young, no longer willing to put up with your family’s abuse, and you spend your days traveling, exploring, and being free.

-But being a child in a cruel, unforgiving world, you did what you had to do to survive, and learned with dark magic to defend yourself.

-However, a child is still a child, and it wasn’t long until you had been caught after your parents deemed you evil, and after many saw you using your dark powers, you were deemed a witch and sentenced to death, but you were given no quick death, you were torn limb from limb, disemboweled, brutally tortured until you bled out.

-You couldn’t even fathom on how cruel some humans could be, especially to a five-year-old.

-However, in Valhalla, you were free, you got a safe and warm home, you were never hungry, and nobody thought too much about you, just seeing you as a child.

-There were only a few who knew about your power, Odin and Brunnhilde, knowing full well that you were strong with magic, and after years of honing your skills, you were dangerous, but still looked like a child, much to your annoyance as nobody took you seriously.

-That is, until Ragnarok occurred and Brunnhilde took a gamble with you.

-The amount of shouts of rage and outcry, seeing a young child walking out into the stadium was almost deafening, so many were furious, seeing that a child was being forced to fight.

-Your bright smile and look of fiery determination did throw them off as you spoke, “Don’t worry about me- I’ve got this!!” but your words and confidence did little to deter their anger.

-It wasn’t until you easily defeated your opponent that they finally shut up, completely stunned as you did nothing to hold back, showing off years of training work with your magic.

-When you returned backstage, you were no expecting to be hugged so quickly, by a man who wanted to adopt and protect you, even more so after Brunnhilde told them how you died on Earth.

-Instantly had you in his arms, hugging you close, ignoring your futile attempts to struggle free, “Let go! I’m not a child!” he found your struggle amusing, holding you by the back of your shirt like you were a feisty kitten, “Struggle all you want, you’re my kid now, and nobody’s ever going to hurt you again.” You paused at his words, eyes narrowed like you didn’t believe him, “Really?” he grinned, keeping you in his arms, “Really- c’mon I’ll get you some ice cream.” Your hands flew up as you cheered, showing your child-like nature, which you were quick to deny.

-Leonidas, Qin Shi Huang, Hades, and Thor

-Kneeled down and introduced himself to you and you did the same and he offered you a hand, “Would you allow me to adopt you, Y/N? I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you again.” Now that your powers had been revealed, you did think it was a good idea to have some extra protection, mainly because you were afraid of being attacked for using dark magic again. It was rather cute, seeing you acting so mature, because you were, but in the body of a five-year-old, it was rather amusing to see. You agreed, taking his hand and he pulled you up and into his arms, holding you like a child so he could take you to a waiting room to relax with him.

-Adam, Kojiro, Poseidon, and Nikola

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror leonidas #ror qin shi huang #ror hades #ror thor #ror poseidon #ror adam #ror kojiro sasaki #ror nikola tesla

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alwaysmicado · 6 months

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incomplete

2.2k | Ezra x gn!reader | one-shot

established relationship, negative body image, anxiety attack, emotional support Summary: Ezra has not been the same since losing his arm in the Green. When he suffers an anxiety attack, he reveals his biggest fear — not being enough for you. A/N: I love Ezra with all my heart and I can only imagine how difficult it must be to navigate life after losing an arm, especially in “ordinary” situations such as hugging the person he loves. I just had to give him reassurance and comfort. 🤍 masterlist | AO3

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

The dim glow of the moonlight casts a soft illumination across the room, highlighting shadows that dance on the walls. The silence of the night is broken by a subtle sound — a muffled sob that echoes through the otherwise quiet hut. You lie on your cot, eyes wide open, unable to ignore the pattern that has emerged over the past few nights any longer.

Ezra, the enigmatic prospector you’ve come to recognize and admire for his strength and composure over the past year of your partnership, is struggling.

You can hear him pacing in the living area, a restless energy evident in each step. Occasionally, a stifled whimper escapes him, the weight of his emotions too much to contain. It’s a painful symphony of anxiety that unfolds behind the closed door.

As much as you want to respect his privacy, the concern gnaws at you, urging you to offer support. You slip out of your covers and put on your sweater, guided by the muted sounds emanating from your partner. The door creaks softly as you open it, revealing Ezra standing near the window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight.

His gaze is fixed on the distant moon, his shoulders are hunched, and his hand grips the edge of the windowsill as if anchoring himself in a storm. His breathing is rapid, shallow, and you can see the distress in his eyes.

It’s clear that he’s in the midst of an anxiety attack.

You immediately move towards him, concern etching your features. “Ezra, hey, what’s going on?” Your voice is soft, trying to cut through the chaotic thoughts that might be racing through his mind.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide with panic, and it takes a moment for him to register your presence. “I–I don’t know,” he stammers, his words coming out in fragments. “It just–it hit me.”

You move to stand beside him, giving him some space while remaining close enough to offer comfort. “It’s okay, Ezra. I’m here. Take deep breaths with me, alright?” You model the slow, deliberate inhales and exhales, hoping he’ll follow suit.

He tries to mimic your breathing, but it’s clear that the anxiety has a tight grip on him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and his attempts to regulate his breath are met with resistance.

“Focus on me, Ezra,” you encourage, gently placing a hand on his back to rub soothing circles into his strained muscles. “You’re safe here. Let’s try it together. In…and out.”

It takes a while, but gradually, his breathing starts to sync with yours. The rhythm becomes steadier, and you can feel some of the tension beginning to dissipate. Still, his eyes are wide with residual fear.

“Do you think you can tell me what triggered this?” you ask, your voice soft and understanding, sympathy evident in your eyes.

Ezra shakes his head and lifts his gaze to meet yours, struggling to find the words to properly convey the inner turmoil he is facing. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking.

“Everything just felt...overwhelming. I couldn’t catch my breath for the life of me, and my mind started racing like a runaway train — thoughts careening in every direction. Images, memories, and possibilities colliding, creating a chaotic symphony of ideas that I struggled to make sense of.”

You nod, recognizing the unpredictable nature of anxiety. “It’s alright, Ezra,” you coo. “Sometimes, our minds can play tricks on us and cause us to feel everything at once.” You continue tenderly rubbing his back. “What’s important is that you’re not alone, and I need you to know that you’re not alone.”

Ezra takes another deep breath and nods weakly, the color slowly returning to his face. “I am truly sorry for disturbing your peace, sugar plum,” he mumbles, apologizing for something beyond his control.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you reassure him, a comforting smile gracing your lips.

When you feel his muscles tense again, you can’t help but furrow your brow with worry. “Look at me, Ezra,” you prompt quietly, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. “Will you tell me what’s going on? I might be able to help, you know.”

You search his dark eyes and softly rub the skin beneath his shirt’s short sleeve. “But I need you to let me in.”

He looks out of the window again, avoiding your gaze, and you can see the remnants of dread in his eyes, vulnerability evident in the set of his shoulders.

“There’s nothing going on that needs to trouble that beautiful mind of yours, sugar plum. Just a rough night.” He shakes his head and glances at you, sensing that his attempt at deception, in this case for your own good, is not having its desired effect.

You know him too well, know the man behind the rugged, sly persona he’s been cultivating as a survival tactic. You know what’s hidden beneath, shielded from prying eyes, only revealed to the people who are worthy of his love and devotion — first Cee, now you.

“Ezra, I’ve heard you. I’ve heard you pacing, and I’ve heard the tears. It’s not ‘nothing’.” You cup his cheek with your hand, your eyes boring into his. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

He takes a deep breath, the facade slipping away as he meets your eyes, his shoulders trembling slightly. He hesitates for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I just–I cannot seem to shake this feeling, this overwhelming feeling of grief and hopelessness that is threatening to pull me down into the depths of darkness every time I am alone with my thoughts.”

You see the tears welling up in his eyes and feel your heart break in your chest.

Ezra looks away, trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. “I thought I could handle the memories floating around in my mind, memories of death, destruction, greed, loss. I honestly, truly thought I could move on with my life, be a better man for you and Cee, and lead an honorable life here in our community. On this stunning piece of land I am so fortunate to find myself on.”

He clenches his fist, and closes his eyes.

“But it is always there, always, always there. No matter what I do. No matter how hard I try. It is always lurking in the shadows of my existence, following me, holding me back.” He sighs deeply and opens his eyes to look at you, his brow furrowed. “I am haunted by the absence of my arm. I miss him deeply, in everything I do. And at night, when darkness takes over, when everything is quiet, it is all I can think about.

It’s a pain that goes beyond the physical, a yearning for a wholeness that seems elusive.”

He turns to face you fully, gently tracing your cheek with the back of his fingers. Your heart aches for him, understanding the weight of his words.

“I am broken beyond repair, my darling, and I cannot help but feel that you would be better off if I was go–”

Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm and reassuring embrace. Ezra hesitates for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, but then he leans into the hug, allowing himself to be enveloped by the comfort you offer.

The room around you is silent, and all that can be heard is the subtle sound of his breath.

You can feel the tension in Ezra’s body as he wraps his arm around you, the heavy burden, the weight of his grief he’s been carrying alone all this time. Slowly, you start to sway gently, a rhythm that seems to soothe the troubled thoughts that linger in his mind. The embrace is tight but gentle, a silent reassurance that he’s not alone — and that you’re not going anywhere.

As you hold him, you sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. A quiver runs through his body, and you realize he’s starting to cry. It’s a quiet, almost imperceptible release of emotions that he's been holding back for too long. You tighten your grip, offering him a safe space to let go.

“You’re not alone in this, Ezra,” you whisper. “Losing a part of yourself is a profound loss and it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to grieve. And you don’t have to be silent about it. I’m here for you.”

After a while, the tears subside, and you loosen your embrace just enough to look into his eyes with sincerity, keeping your hands on his shoulders.

Ezra’s eyes glisten with hurt and uncertainty, something you’ve never seen in them before. You brush away a stray tear from his cheek, your touch gentle and calming.

“I cannot adequately describe how much I despise myself for not being able to do this properly — the way you deserve, my precious sugar plum,” he murmurs, pain straining his voice.

You tilt your head in confusion, unable to decipher what exactly he’s talking about. “What do you mean?” you ask softly, a reassuring smile prompting him to answer you.

“This,” he whispers as he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours with closed eyes. “I cannot help but think about how my missing arm, my incompleteness, prevents me from embracing you properly. You deserve the world, my darling, and I can’t even present you with a hug. You deserve a man who can hold you close and show you the love and affection you deserve, and I am truly sorry for having deprived you for so long.”

You pull away enough to look into his eyes again, anger now simmering beneath your skin.

How dare this capable, intelligent, and loyal man entertain the notion that he deprived you of anything. Throughout your time together, all he’s done is take care of you, offering you a life teeming with adventure and love. It’s unfathomable that, even for a fleeting moment, he would think you’d be better off without him.

“I love you, Ezra, and I understand what you’re trying to say, I really do,” you say as calmly as possible, taking deep breaths. “But I need you to listen to me very carefully now because I need you to hear and understand every word. Can you do that?”

“Of course, my darling,” he answers with a nod. “You have my undivided attention.”

Your features soften as you witness the sad admiration in his gaze. “I can’t imagine how unimaginably traumatizing it must have been to lose your arm, having to adapt and relearn everything you knew how to do before. But you did it, you persevered. Because you are strong.”

You lift your hand to cup his cheek, causing him to lean into your touch immediately. “I have seen the incredible progress you’ve made since you and Cee arrived here and, Ezra, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He looks at you, a mix of gratitude and disbelief in his eyes, a single tear making its way down his cheek.

“But I can’t even hug you. I can’t hold you like I want to, like I should be able to.”

You smile, reaching up to wipe away the tear. “Ezra, a hug is not just about arms. It’s about connection, about being close to someone. And in case you haven’t noticed, our hug right now is pretty perfect to me.”

He chuckles through a tear-streaked smile, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “You really think so, sugar plum?”

“I know so,” you affirm with a genuine smile on your lips. “Your worth isn’t determined by the number of limbs you have. It’s about the person you are, the heart you have, and the way you make people feel — what matters is this.”

You gently take his hand and guide it to your chest, so he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart beneath the fabric of your sweater. “You feel this?” He nods slowly as you put your hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“You aren’t broken, my love. You’re human.”

Ezra takes a moment to absorb your words, and you can see a shift in his demeanor. The weight on his shoulders seems to lighten and you can see the spark in his beautiful, dark eyes return.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, Ezra,” you coo. “And if you ever feel the darkness pull at you again, try to remember that you have someone here who sees you, all of you, and thinks the absolute world of you.”

He nods, his signature smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, my darling,” he says, his voice filled with gratitude.

You pull him back into your arms, holding him close once more.

In that moment, you both find solace in the simple act of being together. The room is filled with the quiet understanding that perfection isn’t about the absence of flaws but about embracing every part of oneself — scars and all.

“After all my time floating through this forsaken universe, searching for meaning,” he murmurs into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips, “it turns out that love is the answer. Quite poetic, don’t you think?” —

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mixelation · 1 year

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i wrote more reborn au help

“It’s five now,” Matron told them grimly.

A week ago, there had been six shinobi clans in Sound Country. Matron didn’t describe what happened to the sixth one. She didn’t have to. Most of the orphans have already been sent out to see the war themselves.

Tori picked at a thread on the hand-me-down yukata she’d been given. It was a mustard yellow that probably would have looked lovely on another child but just made her skin look oddly gray. They hadn’t made her do anything yet but help lug water out to the aftermath of a battle once. She was only four.

“This is why it’s important you train hard,” Matron concluded, before dismissing them into the yard.

It wasn’t fair, Tori thought as she plodded along at the back of the line, that she had to be reborn into this stupid universe and didn’t even get to be born into a cool family. She would have liked magic eyeballs, maybe, or being taught to read minds. This clan did have a kekkei genkai that involved screaming like a bat, but she wasn’t one of them. She’d been born to a civilian family that had been the tragic victims of the Third Shinobi War, and the clan had taken her along with any other orphan kid they found.

The poor shmuck in charge of orphan training today was a teenager who didn’t seem to have any real plan in mind. He instructed them to practice hitting each other with sticks, and Tori was handed a bamboo pole and paired off with another girl, a couple years older.

Tori didn’t want to hit anyone with a stick, much less another little girl. She’d rather be taught how to fight alongside a dog partner, and Tori didn’t even like dogs.

The other little girl was shaking. She was new, and like Tori’s new-timeline family she didn’t even remember, her parents had been farmers. The Matron promised them every morning that they were training to be shinobi just like everyone else in the clan, but the clan relied on parents or older siblings teaching their children individually or in small groups, and the orphans just got whoever was around and free on any given day. This girl had never had to fight anyone in her life.

(There were barely any children over the age of eight, because eight was the age they decided it was okay to start sending people out into the battlefield.)

“You can come at me first,” Tori offered, squaring her shoulders and holding the pole in front of her the way she thought they’d told them to do it a month ago.

It additionally wasn’t fair that Tori didn’t seem to be any more physically gifted than in her previous life. She seemed to have the exact same body as before, complete with a head of runaway curls that the Matron seemed confused by, and that meant physical activity didn’t come easily to her.

The other girl hesitated a few moments, and then half-heartedly smacked her pole against Tori’s. She didn’t even aim for Tori herself. The teenager in charge of them was busily sharpening some kunai and not paying any attention to the hollow thwaps of incompetent children hitting things with bamboo poles.

Really, really unfair, Tori thought.

xXx

Medical supplies were perpetually low, and so the welts now across Tori’s knuckles would go unbandaged. They had soap, at least, and plenty of well water. Tori had even gotten to help an ancient kunoichi make the last batch of soap.

Tori examined her hand as they waited in line for a lunch of plain rice porridge. She must be holding the pole wrong, for a seven year old to accidentally hit her knuckles like that.

(This was one advantage Tori had over the other orphans: she didn’t mind getting hurt. She preferred not to be hurt, obviously, but she’d lost a lot of the natural human fear of pain.)

They were also short on most kitchen supplies, so Tori had to share her bowl with two boys. They’d just sat down on the edge of the main house’s engawa when a group of shinobi bounded into the yard in excitement.

“We got one!” one of them cried, holding something over his head. “Where’s the Old Man? We found one!”

Whatever it was, a group was rapidly forming around the shinobi. The two boys Tori was to share with got up to go see themselves, and Tori pulled the bowl into her lap. Their loss.

Tori ate as fast as she could while she watched the proceedings. The Clan leader eventually appeared, and the crowd parted for him. The shinobi knelt as he presented the leader with… some sort of kunai?

“We were scouting a battlefield of the Yellow Flash, as you commanded,” one of the shinobi reported.

Ah, shit, Tori thought as horror dawned on her.

“It has some sort of fuinjutsu on it,” the shinobi was saying as the Clan Leader carefully flipped the three-pronged kunai over in his hands. “If we study it, maybe he can learn one of his techniques.”

Tori set the bowl down on the engawa and hopped to her feet.

“Excuse me,” she called, approaching the gaggle of people around the Clan Leader. “Excuse me, are you really sure that’s a good idea?”

The Clan Leader looked at her like she was some sort of insect.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, girl,” the Clan Leader responded.

Tori ignored the warning. “Doesn’t the Yellow Flash, like, teleport? Do you really want to risk him teleporting here?”

The teenager who’d been in charge of them that morning was commanded to take her to a back training ground and hit her ten times with one of the bamboo poles. He only hit her eight times, all on her back.

“The next person won’t be as nice,” he warned her.

Tori had to lay on her belly to sleep, crammed into a room with twelve other orphans. In the morning, she was excused from ninja practice and sent to help the ancient kunoichi who made soap with laundry. Tori considered this a bonus. The soap kunoichi was the only person she really liked.

“This does need to be wrapped,” the kunoichi diagnosed her back, clicking her tongue. “Why did you speak up, you foolish child? Here, lie down and I’ll help.”

Tori laid down on her belly again, and she twitched only a little as the kunoichi pushed chakra into her back.

“I was right,” Tori mumbled into her arms. “That kunai is dangerous.”

The kunoichi sighed. “Always too clever for your own good, girl. Of course it’s dangerous. Trust your elders to know how to contain dangerous techniques.”

Tori craned her neck, turning her head to look at the kunoichi. “Really?” she asked. “How?”

The kunoichi clicked her tongue again. “No technique a brat like you will understand.”

“I understood the soap,” Tori countered. “Didn’t you tell Matron once, that a failure of one person to explain isn’t a failure of another person to understand–”

“Oi!” the kunochi countered, moving her hand to pinch an unblemished part of Tori’s side sharply. “The mouth on you!”

She did explain, though. The clan possessed a special chest, which was adorned with a special seal the clan had spent generations developing. It made the chest unbreakable, and so the kunai was harmless as long as it was inside.

Tori doubted this, but she also doubted Minato would have a reason to come attack this little clan specifically. Then again, what did she know? She knew the date this war had ended in another timeline, and she knew at some point before that date the five Sound Country shinobi clans would unite as one village, but she didn’t know if she could expect things to proceed as they had before. She didn’t know what she’d changed, if anything, just by being here.

One problem at a time, Tori decided, getting to her feet to go find some clean rags for the kunoichi to dress her wounds.

#reborn au #my writing #i decided tori probably DOES know some key dates and historical happenings #she's not super into history but she does spend all her spare time reading and watching TV in plasticity #so even if she's not reading history books specifically... she does expose herself to the culture pretty consistently #so she knows when the third war ends lol #but she doesn't know what happens to this specific clan oops

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simpforwebtoonmen · 11 months

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Hardships || Eli Jang x reader

a/n: writing this during training at my new job 😘

warnings: short, not proofread, maybe romance? maybe fluff? definitely has no point to it at all 🧍🏽‍♀️

˚✧₊⁎ You helped Eli during his toughest times as a homeless. He never forgot about you and the lessons you taught.⁎⁺˳✧༚

When you were 10 years old, you’d often go to the nearest convenience store with the little pocket money you had and bought yourself whatever you preferred.

One day, during your trip to the convenience store, you saw a boy your age. He was cute; he had black fluffy hair, and the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen. But he was dirty, his clothes were torn, and you swore he needed deodorant more than any other boy you’ve met.

You just assumed that he probably liked being dirty or wasn’t aware of his own dirtiness. But then he took a small snack from the shelf and stuffed it up his shirt. He looked left to right to make sure no one was looking, but he caught you looking. He was frozen in place before he bolted the other way and then out of the store.

An employee tried to chase after him but you were quick to stop them and pay for the food that boy stole.

You wondered how hungry someone had to be to resort to stealing food.

the next day, you asked your (parental guardian) for extra money. you had a hunch that you’d see that boy again.

At the convenience store, you browsed the aisles while you waited. You entered another aisle when you saw him. the same dirty and worn out clothes, the same black fluffy hair, and those same gorgeous eyes that seem to look a bit more feral now that you were taking a better look.

He was quickly taking things off the shelf and stuffing them up his shirt, too focused on that than to see you approaching him and then putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away immediately, dropping everything that was in his shirt.

Instead of chasing him away or calling someone for help, you smiled and waved. “Would you like me buy you something?” you asked him. He stood there and looked at you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure how to feel about your generosity, or what to do with your kind offer.

But finally, he gathered his thoughts and nodded, accepting your offer. Your smile grew wider, “well, you can pick as many things as you want!”

unfortunately for you, he chose too many things and you weren’t able to get anything for yourself. But you were glad you were able to help out and feed him.

As the two of you sat at a nearby park that was conveniently empty that day, the starving boy ravaged his food, nearly choking a few times. You had to keep reminding him to slow down or he’d keep choking or worse, get sick.

When he swallowed you decided to properly introduce yourself, “Well, I’m (name) (last name). Whats your name?” You tilted your head in wonder.

He only stared at you, as if you were something out of this world- not in a good way. He looked at you like you were the oddest thing in the world.

“Eli Jang.”

“…oh, well, hello Eli Jang! I hope we can be friends!” you found it a bit odd how he didn’t properly introduce himself and how he stared at you in an odd way. But you decided to let it slide.

As the days went on, the two of you became more acquainted. Everyday, you’d buy him food and then the two of you would play at the park. For the first time in his life, he actually had fun. He wasn’t being hit or yelled at. For the first time, he was allowed to laugh and have fun.

Even after all these years, he did not forget about you. Not when you took him into your home and introduced him to your (parental guardian). You took him in and feed him, bathed him, and gave him new clothes.

Too bad your (parental guardian) wasn’t as nice as they let on. They kicked Eli Jang out once they realized he was a runaway. Since then, he hasn’t seen you. Not once.

So when he saw you hanging around an all girls middle school, greeting Sally by the gates and giving her a hug. He had no idea you and Sally were friends.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Should he bring up the past? Maybe you didn’t recognize him? Maybe you didn’t ever want to see him again, not after he got you in trouble.

Sally turned to him and smiled, looking at you before turning back to him, “Eli, this is (name), (name), this is Eli,” She introduced the two of you.

You nodded, “yeah, I know who you are. Hopefully, you remember me too,” you chuckled. Upon hearing this, he nodded profusely. His gorgeous eyes shone with hope and cuteness, his black fluffy hair was longer than before which was somehow better, his build was bigger, and all in all he looked more mature. And with all of that, you could still see that sweet and sad child that you used to hang out with years ago.

And you couldn’t help but hug him. he wasted no time to wrap his arms around you, snuggling his nose into your shoulder. The hug was sweet and very much needed for the both of you.

If your (parental guardian) hadn’t caught onto his real identity, you would’ve never stopped being friends with him. You wanted nothing more than to make his life easier for him. You wanted to take away all his pain and suffering and make him forget about his trauma. You knew you wouldn’t be able to do half these things, but you would damned if you didn’t try, not after all these years of not seeing each other.

And Eli never stopped thinking about you. Every time you’d catch him stealing, you wouldn’t yell at him or even feel the slightest bit of disappointment. Instead you asked him, “do you want me to pay for that?”

In the time that he spent with you, he never stole anything and he never beat anyone up. He didn’t even feel the need to make money for himself because you were always there for when he needed you. He felt safe and loved and wanted when he was with you.

He would never forget about you and the lesson you taught him. That there will always be someone out there who is willing to help him.

#lookism x reader #eli jang #eli jang x reader#this man needs a hug

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thecruellestmonth · 1 year

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Jason Todd 2022 fic recs

Some of the best Jason Todd fics that were posted or updated in the year 2022.

"Fail Safe" by Goldmonger - Superman pushes himself training to his limits, as a contingency for the times when he loses his powers. Though Batman is a world-class teacher, a few of the most important lessons are taught instead by 13-year-old Robin (Jason).

"Six of Swords" by campitor - Six vignettes detailing the birth of the Red Hood and the deaths of sons, from UTH to Lost Days. Probably one of the most underappreciated fics I've come across, this story definitely deserves more attention. Character study, canonically villainous Red Hood.

"Bloodstains Won't Make It Matter" by skylarkblue - Black Mask does murder Stephanie Brown. Red Hood resurrects her, and together they walk the path of vengeance. Gruesome deaths, even more gruesome resurrection, shopping, friendship, dramatic flair, villainy, dark themes. (Written for @jaystephevents, no ship).

"Sold to Wonder Woman (by my evil adoptive father Batman)" by JeanjacketCarf - Description: ‘Wonder Woman’ Those two words that became famous and popular. Never did I see myself being bought by her, nor be near her. Being sold, treated like an object, hurt. But being treated more better than you were used to being treated, feels better

"Hood" by CrimeAlley1048 - The Mad Hatter's latest scheme traps Jason and Tim within Jason's mind. Featuring Batfamily-compliant Red Hood.

"Growing Like A Breeze" by whaleofatime - Jason & Bruce cope with Jason's deathday anniversary. The sweetest deathday anniversary fic of all time.

"BATMAN HITS THE RED HOOD WITH HIS BATARANG" by redboard (Ink) - Batman: Under the Red Hood: The Movie: The Dice Game.

"Alternative Means of Acquisition" by Imbecamiel - Jason helps Bruce during a visit to LexCorp. Set during the Robin days.

"won't ask you to survive me" by katadesmoi - Talia & Jason, prelude to UtH, just 758 words. In which Jason carves himself a weapon, and Talia tries to keep things from breaking.

"Upside Down" by withthekeyisking - Dick is transformed into his 8-year-old, newly orphaned runaway self, and Jason must earn his trust.

Neighbours by Aingeal98 - The mysterious Shiva and her young daughter move in next door to civilian Bruce and his young son Jason. Shiva and Bruce become extremely involved PTA parents, Cass and Jason become adorable friends. Take notes on how this fic writes Lady Shiva, this is how you write Lady Shiva. Great characterization for all involved. Cass and Shiva are the stars of the show, and Jason is a solid supporting character. (Unlike the other fics here which are completed, this story is an ongoing work in progress for now, but it's the kind of story that is enjoyable even without having an ending yet.)

"Come Little Children" by TravelingRiversideBlues - A certain kid meets Batman in Crime Alley. Major character death.

"a ghost in the grey daylight" by Goldmonger - Following the events of UtRH, Batman places Jason in Arkham Asylum. Stream of consciousness. Red Hood meets Wide Sargasso Sea + Arkham Asylum: Living Hell. Not a happy story. Jason and Bruce do terrible stuff in this one, some other characters are complicit to varying degrees.

"Late Night Langoustining" by whaleofatime - Jason nurses an abused supermarket lobster back to health in his apartment bathroom. Chaotic good Red Hood.

"Home Intrusion" by daedalusdavinci - Dick & Jason. Dick feels overwhelmed by depression, Jason is a chaotic blend of unapologetically annoying and insufferably caring. <3

"One Rule" by Wisetypewriter - After a pimp is murdered in Crime Alley, Batman goes looking for Red Hood. Normally I don't read fic that uses Lobdell's RHatO canon, but this story actually makes interesting use of Faye Gunn as Jason's paternal grandmother. Contains references and descriptions of familial abuse.

we're in this mellow mayhem together by atlasky - A slice-of-life series in which Jason has a close relationship with Hal Jordan, Green Lantern. Told from Hal's point of view, this story will make you love Hal if you don't already. The latest installment was posted this year.

Honorable mentions:

"A little more heart and soul" by ruesyblues - What do you do when the brother you raised and loved and left now seems to be withdrawing and you want the best for him but you're not sure if you did the right thing and oh fuck what if you made a mistake?? (Dick wants Damian to be happy. He just has no clue how to accomplish that.)

"seven ways to defrost yourself" by nashequilibrium - This one is more about Alex DeWitt, featuring Jason and Steph.

"The Bowery Branch" by ivy_and_ivory - When he’s eleven, Jason Todd becomes a regular at the Bowery Branch Public Library. This is his life, through their eyes.

"lonely town" by TheResurrectionist - After Robin is murdered, Nightwing seeks out the Joker on his own. Major character death, intense grief, death ideation, extreme peril, self-destructive behavior. Jason's minor role as a supporting character is short and sweet.

"By Any Other Name" by ManURonaldo - Jason thinks of Bruce and Batman as separate people. Mostly fluff, Red Hood is part of the Batfamily.

"the clay steals the clay" by zipadeea - Bruce & Jason. Sweet fluffy feel-good goop with the softest Batdad and a Catholic homily. Alternate reunion, takes place just before UtH.

"Fabric Softener" by ceruleon - Dick & Jason. As the title implies, this story is way soft. Feel-good fluff.

"Red X" by ilovelegendsalot - A rather painstakingly canon-compliant Teen Titans 2003 cartoon fic, in which Jason Todd steals the Red X suit from his older brother.

"I Never Give As Much As I Get" by raggedybun - Red Hood's Task Force Z ends with a bang. Harvey Dent decides to repay the favor.

"It's Tomb Time" by FleetSparrow - Very tiny fic. When Dick and Jason have to investigate an old tomb, Jason doesn't like it one bit. And makes it known. Repeatedly.

"You're Just A Baby, You Can Not Fly" by BabblingBookends - Batman visits Jason's grave to say goodbye to his partner.

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wordsandrobots · 4 months

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I just don't get it.

I've been dwelling all day on the times I've seen someone claim/state that the characterisation in Iron-Blooded Orphans Season 2 is inconsistent with Season 1 and I still can't understand how people get to that conclusion. Clearly they do. But everything about S2 reads to me as a really straightforward acceleration of the flaws established in S1, and we know from the writing side, the intention was always to have this end in tragedy, even if the timescale changed. (Which, to be clear, is something I think was entirely to the show's benefit, allowing for a midway 'hope spot' where everything works out by the skin of its teeth, driving everyone to greater levels of reckless confidence.)

Most of the major personality rug-pulls happen by the time we hit the build-up to the climax of S1. We go from seeing Orga in his element -- the charismatic, clever military leader taking control of a miserable situation for the sake of his comrades -- to seeing what he's like in the wider world -- winging it, latching on to new ideas like a limpet, chasing the biggest rewards as fast as he can -- to seeing what's underneath it -- his awe/fear of Mika, his inability to do what's smart in the face of what his friends want, and the way he crumbles under the weight of casualties before stubbornly keeping onwards in an effort to turn the loss into a meaningful sacrifice. There is a straight line from the Dort Colonies where Orga gets pressured into becoming involved, to the point everyone insists on going after Jasley, to what happens in the middle of the battle with the Arianrhod Fleet. It's practically the same scene three times over with the desperation on Orga's face dialled up each time.

Same for the others. Despite his light-hearted presentation, Shino is deeply affected by his friends' deaths and commits himself to fighting so they don't have to, ego driving him to do reckless shit that doesn't quite work. Gaelio is a prideful dick who, while he has various good instincts, ultimately acts based on his emotional reactions alone. Hell, Mikazuki is literally introduced firing a gun that knocks him clean off his feet, his body too frail to withstand the violence he's committing on behalf of Orga, who watches with a mix of terror and amazement, that morphs into a teeth-clenched determination to keep going -- because what else do you do when faced with *that* level of devotion at your command?

McGillis is the only one where I can kind of grasp why it would seem inconsistent, because the reveals about the exact shape of his past are left to the back half of S2, and the twist that he was rooting his entire world-view in childish mythology is (deliberately) dissonant with his ruthless manipulation of the rest of the cast. But, like -- he treats Tekkadan as this amazing, miraculous event from the word go. He is heavily invested in imagery (around them, around Kudelia, around the Gundams) and waffles on endlessly about the Calamity War. His wearing of a mask is explicitly framed as playing dress-up, in which he takes a giddy delight. The revelations set all this in a new light, sure. They're hardly inconsistent with it. Not in a show chock full of people caught up in their own ideas about other people and what a better world would mean.

My point is, Iron-Blooded Orphans is about messed-up people in shitty situations making actively terrible life choices because they're trapped inside the event horizons of their own trauma. It is about everyone crushed by indifferent systems of power, shouting loud and proud that they are human beings with hopes and dreams and loves and fears, and smashing them to pieces regardless because that is what *happens* in an unjust world. It runs on its characters' flaws, like any good tragedy, on their flawed reactions to the very real problems they struggle against. Season 2 is an escalating series of runaway trains, each crisis shaping the reaction to the next in worse and worse ways. I could spend ages breaking down how it goes from Tekkadan at the peak of its ability to brazen through problems on sheer guts, to their strength actively working against them even when they are saving the world with it, to where it ends, a tragic, bittersweet peace that, as cynically as it could be read, still contains small triumphs.

At no point does it seem to me to be anything less than extremely clear and consistent about what it is saying. I've had people comment on my fic saying I've fixed the characterisation for them, and I have to state openly, that is not what I thought I was doing! I'm just taking what I saw in the series and extrapolating from it. There *are* parts where I've added stuff, to fill in the gaps you need to when you're making secondary characters into leads. But I know which bits I made up whole-cloth and, well, maybe I'm fooling myself but I don't think I ever had to introduce something to explain anyone's actions in the series itself.

Anyway, sorry for waffling on so long. Please don't take this as me calling anyone daft for where they landed on IBO, it's just that these reactions always make me twitch and wonder if I've hallucinated something over a gap somewhere. Then I go back to all the times Orga rides rough-shod over Biscuit's good advice and -- no! No, the text very firmly set up why this all goes horribly wrong and pays off each and every point like the world's most appalling check-list! You are 100% free to not enjoy that, but it's clearly working as intended

#gundam ibo #gundam iron blooded orphans #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #I am the furthest thing from an unbiased source on this show #I love it so much #but I have also spent two and a half years picking it to component parts #it really is an incredibly solid piece of #*here's why X is doing Y even though Z is right there*#and I admire that a lot on a technical level #spoilers #more rambling

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everlastlady · 11 months

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Hello 👋 thanks for the follow so I've been reading lots of amazing Striker fics and stumbled upon yours will it be okay if I request a Striker x Target Reader ( Female)

Summary: Striker fails once again to assassin Stolas and takes a swing in a bar, gets a call from a different royal business it can be your oc or a random name that they're target is the Reader but Striker seems to be interested in this one because the reader doesn't tolerate or fall for Striker's actions. Like a cat and mouse game between them until the reader develops feelings for him and actually let's Striker take her in but Striker on the other hand does something else turns behinds the royals back and goes on the run saving the reader. In the end he's alone until he stumbles with her again but makes him smile instead of fighting he smile because it's been long enough that he had to run away from many places they both hold hands and hug.

Hope it's not too long and you can always decline. Keep up the good work and thank you ❤️

It's not to long but I believe I made this story long because I had to much fun writing it. So I hope you enjoy it, I'm going write a part 2 because that's how much I enjoyed writing it so this was a long write because the original is 5109 words.

Characters: Striker, Rosemary (oc), & Damien (oc)

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Striker X Reader Part One: Runaways

“ Thanks, Doc. “ Striker said as he watched Rosemary finish patching him up. “ No problem. But you need to be careful. For a highly trained assassin you sure do get roughed up. “ Rosemary said, while letting out a soft chuckle. Striker stared at the stitches then let out a low hiss. “ Those little vermin are good but not as good as me. “ Striker said, smirking. Rosemary set her chart down and walked over as she stared at Striker. Striker looked at her and Rosemary raised her hand and flicked him in the forehead. “ Ow! What the fuck was that for. “ Striker said, covering his face and mumbling. “ That is what will happen if you pop those stitches again. Anyway, in time to pay up I need to close up and leave. “ Rosemary smiled as her plant-like tail swung. '' Fine here you go. “ Striker handed the plant demon woman the money and got off the bed. “ Don’t worry I won’t pop them. I’ll try to take it easy. “ Striker said, while watching Rosemary count the money. '' For someone who helps assassins and criminals like me. You sure have no worries when it comes to relationships so are you going to tell me who this special someone is. “ Striker said, as he had seen Rosemary’s phone and saw an unknown number send a green and blue heart emoji. Rosemary grabbed her phone with her tail and placed the phone in her purse. “ None of your business. But yes my work is dangerous but I can still balance what my partner calls a work life balance. Anyway now shoo I’m already going to be late for the date they had planned and remember don’t pop those stitches or I’m going to pop your head. “ Rosemary shoved Striker outside the door and closed it. Striker stood there for a moment and looked at the door. He let out a chuckle. “ Have fun darlin’. “ Striker walked towards the pole where Bombproof was and got on top of his horse. “ I’ll get a drink and find some hotel to kick back in. “ Striker hit Bombproof with his tail as the two rode to the saloon called the Broken Jaw, a place for criminals, assassins, hitmen, and just the worst of the worst. Striker got off of Bombproof. “ I’ll be quick buddy. “ Striker pets Bombproof on the nose and walked inside of the bar. He didn’t care if people stared at him. Striker had a reputation around this bar and it was you can look but if you touch, you are getting shot and Striker had a pretty big head count here.

“ Damien, how are you and can I get my usual ? “ Striker said, as he sat down and grunted a bit, still feeling tired and beaten up from earlier. The sleep demon nodded his head and made Striker his drink as he let out a yawn. “ You look pretty fucked up what happened? “ Damien asked while he took the money from Striker. “ I don’t really wanna go into details. But at least I won’t have to deal with the blue blood and those vermin for a while. “ Striker took a sip from his drink while Damien chuckled. Striker’s phone started to ring as he grabbed his tail. “ Hello? Listen I can’t take a job right now, I’m pretty beat up right now and my doctor recommended I- wait you’ll pay me how much? Well why didn’t you say so. Alright just send me the picture of the target and I’ll kill them for you and deliver their head. “ Striker placed his phone back in his pocket as Damien looked at Striker. “ Sounds like a good job. “ Damien said, while cleaning the glass. “ Good? No, this man is offering more than that screeching bitch. This money could help me finish rebuilding the ranch and maybe even take a vacation. “ Striker chuckled and took a sip from his drink. “ I know the doc will kill me if I pop my stitches but she’ll get paid a lot and I’ll give you a big tip too Damien. “ Striker grinned. “ That would be nice you’re the only one who tips me, I used to have another guy but you shot him. “ Damien said, while pouring Striker another drink. “ He should have kept my mother’s name out of his mouth. “ Striker mumbled and sipped on the drink. “ But here you go. I should go and rest up, I’ll need to prepare since I’ll be killing this target. “ Striker felt his phone buzz and looked at the picture, he smirked and showed Damien the picture. “ This is the target? Ha! I might as well just track them today and shoot them dead in the face.

Striker laughed to himself as he handed Damien some money. His lavender claws reached out and grabbed the money. “ Have a nice night Striker. “ Damien smiled. As Striker got up and left, he glanced at the picture of you. You were his target, he assumed that he could easily use his charms on you and then kill you since the client named Devon wanted your head. He literally wanted your head. “ Maybe I could use the money to get some new weapons, let’s head home buddy, we gotta rest up because we have a big job tomorrow. “ Striker jumped back on Bombproof as he rode off with Bombproof towards a hotel. “ This one doesn’t look too bad, let’s go find somewhere to put ya. “ Striker ended up putting Bombproof somewhere nice and cozy. Striker stepped into the hotel and looked around. It was your average hotel, nothing too fancy or run down. He was sure that he would get a goodnight sleep. He walked up to the front desk and signed some papers so that he could have a room. He paid for his room and grabbed the key. He tilted his hat at the desk clerk and walked away. Striker heads to his hotel room and unlocked the door. He walked inside and looked around the room and laughed. “ Great! No piss stains or puke stains in the carpet. “ Striker walked over to the bed and looked at the bed. “ Hopefully no bed bugs. Alright time to shower, clean my weapons, and rest. I wonder what blade (Y/N) would like against their neck. “ Striker chuckled and walked away to take a shower but was careful because he did not want Rosemary to flick him in the head. Those long black nails made him shiver. After finishing up his shower. Striker dried off and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and sat down on the bed. While he looked at the different blades he had. “ This one is pretty. “ Striker smirked and decided to go with a simple hunting blade. He put away his weapon and reached over - he switched off the light and as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep. The next morning, Striker was up and went to go get breakfast. He wanted to have enough energy when he got you. Striker stepped into the diner and sat down, he picked up the menu and scanned through it. “ Hello, there my name is (Y/N) . What can I get you? “ Striker’s eyes widened and he set down the menu, his eyes looked up and he saw you. He did his best to contain his excitement. “ I’ll take a black coffee and maybe if you ~ “ He shot you a wink. “ A coffee it is. “ You said, with a blank expression and walked away. Striker sat there like a goldfish with his mouth open.

“ H-How… “ He was at a loss for words. How did you not fall for his charm? His targets always fell for his charm but now things were different. Even if he assumed that you were dating or married. His targets always fell for him. You walked over with the coffee and set it down. “ Anything else I can get you? “ You said. “ And don’t say another pick up line, I don’t have time to deal with creeps like you. “ You said, with a soft glare. Striker stared at you and for the first time he was speechless but he should order food. “ Eggs and bacon. “ He said, with a defeated sigh. “ Good. I’ll be back with your meal. “ You gave him a smile and walked off. Striker was captured but your smile. He looked down at the table. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the picture of you. The client who asked him to kill you didn’t say why they wanted you dead. His clients usually didn’t tell him. Why they wanted someone dead and he didn’t care because money was money but he didn’t kill kids that was his one golden rule and he had his reasons. “ Here’s your food hon. “ You set the plate down and Striker tried his best to put his phone away. You raised an eyebrow and shook your head walking away. Wasn’t your business since you usually dealt with weird people. Striker watched you walk away and started poking his food. “ Shit… now I need a new plan. “ And he wasn’t going to cause a scene at this diner. He sat there eating his food and drinking the black coffee. He probably needed a new tactic, maybe he should impress you or compliment you. Striker finished his coffee and food. He watched you walk over with the bill, he took a deep breath and smiled. “ I’m sorry. I was acting like a creep earlier darlin’, I just ain’t ever seen a pretty demon like you in a long time. “ He said, trying to sound sincere. “ It’s not a problem but if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. “ You said, and turned around but Striker grabbed your hand and placed something in it. “ Here you go, just for you and your wonderful service. “ Striker had given you $40. You looked at him and smiled. “ Thanks, I guess that you aren’t so bad. “ You said, while slipping the money into your pocket.

“ Glad you don’t think of me as a bad man, darlin’ because I’m more than a bad man, I’m a dangerous man. “ Striker said, while smirking and shooting you finger guns. You let out a laugh which made Striker blush, hearing you laugh made him feel all warm inside. “ Hey, I get off work in an hour. Do you want to hangout? I'm kinda new in Hell and have been wanting to hangout with some people. “ You said, smiling at Striker. “ Oh, you’re one of those sinners, interesting I don’t meet much of ya, but sure we can hangout right after you finish up work. “ He said. “ Good, I’m giving you a chance so don’t try anything funny. “ You said, in a stern voice and shot him a wink then walked off. Striker sat there as he felt his heart race. He had never felt this way about someone. He was usually the one making others blush and flustered. But here was dumbfounded on how you could make him feel this way. He was so excited to hangout with you that he forgot that he was supposed to kill you. Striker got up and waited outside. He lit a cigarette and started to smoke. He watched the door open and watched you walk out. “ Howdy. “ Striker said, with a small nod. “ Howdy. “ You said, mimicking his accent. Striker chuckled and shook his head. “ So (Y/N), I hope that I ain’t crossing a line but how did you end up in Hell? It’s always interesting to learn how sinners like you end up in this fucked up place? “ Striker walked with you towards his horse as you explained how you ended up in Hell. “ Wow, that is an interesting tale, do you miss the human world? “ He asked, while helping you on his horse. You snort and laugh. “ No, I like Hell better than the human world but I do miss some of my friends and family. One of my friends who also ended up here told me, I had a nice funeral. That my parents hadn’t changed anything in my room. “ You gave a sorrowful smile. Striker smiled and nodded. “ Family is a nice thing to have, I miss mine but I’ve been doing good on my own. “ Striker also had a sorrowful smile. “ Hold on tight. “ Striker smacked Bombproof’s bum with his tail and the two of you rode off. You held onto Striker as you were impressed by his horse and how he could stay on. Striker had brought you to a beautiful area in the Wrath ring of Hell. The both of you watching the lava flow like a river. “ I come here a lot. It’s beautiful at night. The glow is nice and warm. “ He said and lit another cigarette.

“ Do you want a cigarette? “ He said, looking at you but you shook your head. “ No, I don’t smoke. “ You said, and looked at the lava flowing. Striker nodded as he finished smoking and flicked the cigarette into the lava. “ Do you drink? “ Striker asked. “ Not really. “ You said, while picking up a rock and tossing it into the lava. “ Here, take a sip of this. I brewed it myself. “He handed you his flask. You took and opened it as you took a sip. The liquor was strong but had a smooth taste and it reminded you of your favorite fruit. You took a couple of more sips as Striker let out a chuckle. “ Don’t drink it all too quickly darlin’. “ Striker said. You hand him back the flask and he takes a sip. “ I’ll make sure to bring you a bottle next time we hangout. “ Striker said, as he looked at you. Like he was hoping for you to agree to hangout with him next time. He surely was forgetting that he needed to kill you. “ Sure, you haven’t been acting like a creep and I’m starting to enjoy your company. You also haven’t killed me yet. “ You said, with a smirk. Striker was confused for a second then he remembered but he was still confused for a bit. “ How did you know? “ Striker said. “ You don’t think I know when some rich asshole I used to date is trying to kill me. He always tries to find ways to kill me and I always escape. It’s why I’m saving up enough money so I can get out of this place. Move somewhere far where they can’t find me. “ You said, looking down. “ Their upset because I dumped them. I caught them cheating on me and they kept promising me that they wouldn’t but they kept breaking it. To the point they just told me to deal with it because I’ll always be their special pet, like what the fuck. “ You said. As you clench your fist. Striker wasn’t one to dabble in his client's business or listen to his targets. But hearing now why your ex wanted you dead. Made Striker shake his head, how petty and childish. Striker never really dated but if he was getting cheated on. He would be upset if someone broke up with him. He wouldn’t kill them. “ I’m sorry that he’s making your life a shitty place. And I’m sorry that I’m helping with that. I don’t really ask questions when someone pays me to take someone out. “ Striker said. “ Don’t worry, I understand if I had the same job as you. I’d do the same. But thanks for not killing me or is it too late to say that? “ You glanced up at him.

Striker looked at you and took off his hat, as he held to his chest. He would think for a second was he willing to give up money to have a friendship with you. But this feeling didn’t feel like friendship. He stared off as he placed his hat on your head and walked off. You stood there confused and looked at his horse Bombproof who seemed to also have the same confused look. Striker hadn’t returned for hours and you were laying on Bombproof while gossiping about people from your workplace. Bombproof seemed to understand and would let out little sounds. You both heard footsteps and saw that Striker had returned. You and Bombproof looked up as Striker sat down next to you. “ Let’s run away. “ He said. You sat up confused and looked at Striker. “ What? “ You said., “ Let’s run away, far from here." Striker said.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #helluva striker #striker helluva boss #fan fiction #fanfic #fandoms #fandom #striker is so hot #striker #striker x reader #helluva boss striker #helluva striker x reader #writerscorner #writing #writers on tumblr #my writing #writeblr #request ☕📖

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aita-blorbos · 4 months

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AITA For Seeking Revenge?

Hello. Apologies for any oddities in my speech, as my first language is not English.

I (18F) suffered quite a few losses lately. First, the loss of my father(66M), then the loss of my brother (25M) in a sense… I didn’t think he was actually dead, despite his mysterious disappearance.

I do not have the best reactions to grief, or loss, in either sense of the word. When I was raised, losing at anything was seen as a moral failing, akin to renouncing one’s heritage. When my father died… I cut my hair in my emotional frenzy. This anecdote is here to explain my somewhat over reactions to some things.

My brother had disappeared, rather cowardly. I wanted to give him a pep talk and drag him back to work, so I flew to his country to help out. Additionally, I wanted to utterly destroy the man that had bested him, as a way to prove that I was the better sibling. (We had many squabbles over that in our youth, mostly over chess or training for our jobs.) I thought that if I could do that, then my life, which had veered off its predicted course quite terribly, would snap back on track.

So, I did my best to face the man who had harmed my brother. I dressed to scare, I left no stone unturned, and somehow… I lost. I did not take this well. Despite having a somewhat quick temper normally, my anger this time was fueled by grief. Normally, I carry the equipment I use for my equestrian hobbies on my person, due to fools who do not know the meaning of the word “no”, or for impromptu horseback riding. Occasionally, if I am not being listened to, I will use my equipment, as it makes a loud noise. Normally, it’s just a “one and done” sort of thing, but here… I was so sad, and so angry, and so lost, that I just… kept hitting him. He passed out. He couldn’t see this, since he was unconscious, but afterward I was horrified of my own strength.

Later, my brother did come back. I gave him a piece of my mind. He still helped me to the hospital (that I did NOT want to go to, but however) when I was wounded (unrelated. an assassin had decided to shoot me) despite having failed at what my family had taught us both to do. I couldn’t understand this, and as such decided to leave as soon as I could. I threw my equipment on the ground.

When I was in the airport he came looking for me. He encouraged me to not give up, despite how my life was careening off the rails like a runaway train. I told him I hated him. I told him that my fight against him had only just begun.

…Reading this back from the airport lobby, I’m probably TA. But internet, what do you think?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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scorchieart · 1 year

Text

Second to None

Characters: Belle, Chevalier Michel, Clavis Lelouch, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph

Genres: Action, Suspense

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: This is a quick fic based on @the12thnightproject's Reverse Ask Game challenge! I chose 7 of Spades, and my prompt was “No Beta we die liek men.” I had the idea for this story sitting in my mind for months, ever since I started really craving Chevalier's faction to hang out more, and today was finally the day to execute it. True to form, I set a pomodoro timer for 3 hours and worked straight on this story with zero backtracking. I only quickly read it once over to check for grammatical & spelling errors (I hope I caught them all, those keep me up at night) but the rest is pure, raw Scorchie-brain. I only ask that you don't think differently of me after reading this, though I completely understand if you do...

Warnings: Fighting, mild descriptions of injuries, unedited work.

I tripped on the last step and met a facefull of gravel. I considered myself fortunate that I did not wear glasses, but in my current situation, the fact I wasn’t knocked out cold was a blessing.

Making sure I wasn’t bleeding—a blood trail was the last thing I needed right now—I picked myself up and ran in the direction of the forest. The stables would be too obvious for someone making an escape, and the palace grounds were crawling with soldiers and guards whose loyalties I did not have the luxury of time to decipher. I prayed no one would consider the looks-like-she’s-running-for-her-life woman grounds for suspicion as I swerved off the cobblestone path onto grass that grew grungier the farther I went.

Night frost and thorns pricked my skin as I burst through a patch of gangly rose bushes into the forest, but I didn’t dare stop and catch breath. My heart pounded louder in my ears with each hulking tree, looking more monstrous and mangled than the last. I think I heard an owl hooting from above, but my gaze was preoccupied with making sure I didn’t trip on anything else. I’d read about adrenaline sharpening senses while dulling others in the moment, but this is the first time I’d ever experienced it firsthand. Even if I couldn’t rely on my ears, at least my eyes were working overtime. And I could definitely do without the pain in my no-doubt twisted ankle slowing me down.

Roots and leaves, I told myself, just avoid the roots and leaves. I jutted my head in so many directions to avoid so many crisscrossing branches I was surprised it didn’t fly off my neck. Perhaps it was because my shoulders remained immovably stiff since I hightailed it out of the castle, but frozen muscles were a natural reaction to that lot chasing after you.

That insatiable lot and their thunderstruck faces all trained on you at once. I’d sooner fall face first into a giant cauldron full of sizzling gravel than wish to encounter them again. But runaways can never count on their wishes coming true.

Perhaps it was the cacophony of crunching leaves beneath my feet. Or that incessant owl hooting overhead. Or the fact that my attention was solely focused on advancing deeper without looking back. Whatever the reason, I was spotted. And I was wholly unprepared for what followed. One moment I was pushing a bramble of spiderweb-encrusted twigs from my path, and in the next I expelled the entirety of my breath out of my lungs in one go, my back knocked hard against the base of a tree, and numbing stars and a flash of red invaded my vision.

“Give it back,” a burly voice breathed onto my face. The overwhelming odor of honey and sweat punched my nose harder than the words. It seemed as though smell was my dominant sense at this time.

I wriggled my legs in an attempt to kick him away, but Luke surprisingly maneuvered his massive body to avoid most of the blows. The ones he couldn’t avoid hit him softly in the chest, as though they were little more than the beating of a butterfly’s wings. He didn’t get any closer, though, like he was waiting for me to tire and give in to his demands. But I wasn’t going to succumb that easily. As soon as my vision fixed to focus again, I would make a run for it. But just as I could start to make out the frenzied features on his face, a new smell entered the scene: the crisp, tart aroma of freshly plucked vetiver.

I managed to roll onto my side just before Luke was shoved straight into the tree trunk. My entire body vibrated with rising dread as Chevalier grabbed a fistful of Luke’s cherry hair and pulled his body to face him. Flakes of bark chips stuck to Luke’s face as he glared back at his leader, and his angry huffing intensified with each passing second.

“I was here first,” growled Luke, wrapping his hands around Chevalier’s wrist and yanking it off. Chevalier only spared me a passing glance as Luke slowly rose to his feet and reached for his sword.

“If we are ranking validity by seniority, then I have you beat, Jumbo. I had been sitting in the office long before any of your arrivals.” Chevalier cleanly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Luke.

“And since when did sitting on your lazy behind count as seniority?” Luke spat as the two began to circle each other. The section of forest we occupied could hardly be called a clearing, and my heart stuck in my throat at the thought of the damage they could do if they actually began to fight. I primed my knees and followed their movements, desperate to find an opening to escape before it all went down.

“That hardly constitutes a retort, coming from you,” snorted Chevalier. His eyes locked briefly with mine, a silent command of “I will deal with you later,” but I quickly turned away and focused back on the gallowing trees surrounding us. Just a second… one second is all I’ll need to slip away.

But my pleas were ignored. Luke kicked the ground and lunged at Chevalier, thrusting his sword directly toward his heart. Chevalier effortlessly sidestepped and punched Luke in the gut, sending him tumbling backward, coughing and sputtering. But Luke quickly recovered and launched again, this time aiming his swing for Chevalier’s head. With perfect timing, Chevalier ducked and jabbed the hilt of his sword again into Luke’s stomach, but instead of backing up, Luke released his own sword and wrapped his arms around Chevalier’s neck, bringing him to the ground with his superior weight as they fell.

This was my chance. I steeled my knees and grabbed the nearest trunk to me for support. Chevalier repeatedly rammed his elbow into Luke’s chest only a few paces beside me, and though it looked like Luke possessed the strength of a boa constrictor encapturing his prey, I could see his hold slipping as Chevalier persisted his attacks. I began inching away, my hand plastering to any tree I passed like a lifeline, my eyes glued to the struggle I left behind. I would only allow myself to tear away from the sight as soon as I could be sure they hadn’t noticed my departure, but just when I had passed my seventh tree trunk, a new contender entered the ring.

It was as though what I had been watching previously moved in slow motion. In an instant, something shifted in the trees behind the brawling pair, swift and nimble like an autumn gale. Branches and leaves shook in its wake, and the once hyper-focused Luke diverted his attention to the sound. Chevalier snatched the chance to give a final push and disentangle himself, knocking Luke out in the process, but as he reached to retrieve his sword, he was seized once more, this time from behind.

Nokto’s silver hair gleamed ominously in the pale moonlight as Chevalier stood, the younger prince’s arms firmly wrapped around his shoulders. Chevalier grabbed at Nokto’s hands and tried to pry them off, but Nokto only climbed higher on Chevalier’s back, using his legs to try and push Chevalier back to the ground.

Chevalier growled when Nokto jabbed a knee into the back of his thigh, but he didn’t yield. Instead, he raised himself to full height and rammed backward into the nearest tree, squishing Nokto into the trunk with all his might.

“Nokto!” I cried, but immediately regretted it. Nokto’s ruby eyes found me in the darkness and glared with the ferocity of a beast on the prowl.

“You… stay—” he wheezed, but before he could get out any more words, Chevalier silenced him with a backward headbutt into the tree. Nokto gasped and tightened his grip, but two more strikes from Chevalier slackened them entirely, and he fell limply to the ground to join the fallen Luke.

Chevalier wiped his face and stared at me, and I bolted from the scene as he reached for his sword once again.

My limbs stung as I zipped back through the bramble. Half-broken branches and fallen twigs told me this was the direction I came through previously, but I shuddered at the thought of returning to the palace after what I just witnessed. Now more than ever, I was assured that I needed protection, but could I be guaranteed to find it back at the palace? But with a bloodthirsty Chevalier only paces behind me, what choice did I have?

“I heard a fight. I’m amazed you made it out in one piece.”

I foolishly whipped my head around to the soft voice, and found myself enclosed in a sheath of purest white. My head grew numb as disorienting fragrances of lavender and soil overpowered my nostrils, but two hands firmly gripped my arms before I collapsed.

“Oopsie! My dear, you can barely stand! You look like you’ve just seen a ghost… or worse.” Clavis’s dulcet tones whispered dottily in my brain, and I fought between the urge to rip away or remain trapped in his arms. Chevalier… Chevalier was coming… Clavis could protect me.

“What has you so frightened, little bunny?” he continued, turning me to face him. His golden eyes shone like lanterns to salvation. A safe haven just within reach. “Could it be you encountered something so terrible, so savage, so brutal that you cannot bear to repeat it?” His grip slackened only slightly, like a tamer easing an animal into his care. Into his trust.

“Tell me everything, give it all to me, and I promise I will make it all go away.” His gaze was all-encompassing, and his words comforting and inviting. It was an enticing offer, how could anyone refuse in my situation? I wanted to spill out my heaving guts to him, to pass on the torch of my burden to someone else, and above all take a rest. To leave this dark and foreboding forest before someone else showed up and led me astray, before someone broke this brief respite I somehow called my own…

Wait a moment, wasn’t Clavis one of the people I had been escaping?

I broke eye contact and looked over his shoulder. Chevalier emerged from a thicket of brush, looking seconds away from breathing fire. A hobbling Luke appeared on his right and a bleary-eyed Nokto on his left, the latter’s nose red and swollen like a ripened plum.

It was as if I’d woken up from the most dangerous dream. The dread of my situation resurfaced in an instant, and horror bubbled in my chest as I felt Clavis’s hand rummaging through my pocket.

I clutched Clavis’s shoulders, stomped my heel onto his foot, and jammed my forehead into his nose. Clavis let out a piercing shriek and released me, but as I pulled away, the object he’d grabbed from my pocket slipped out from my skirt and fell to the ground. A single cookie, now broken into dozens of pieces, lay on the forest floor. All four princes stared mutinously at its crumbly remains before turning to me.

I jerked myself out of Clavis’s reach and ran back. The castle was in view now; if I could just make it past those rose bushes and call for help—

Wham!

Something pink and soft collided with me as I reached the thorny bushes and I fell on my backside. Shaking my head from the dizziness, I looked up to see Yves rubbing his forehead, a frilly basket hooked in his left arm.

“Good grief, and I thought my faction was petty over the last sweet!” he said, helping me stand. “If you’d just stayed a minute longer, I was going to tell you I had a second batch in the oven.”

“You couldn’t have said that sooner?” Nokto yelled. My cheeks burned as he and the others caught up to us, their previously angry faces melting into vexation.

“Heh, sorry. Didn’t mean to go all dramatic on you all,” I said, clenching my teeth. Yves’s mouth gaped open as he watched his brothers limp over, and he squeaked in surprise when Luke deliriously walked straight into a tree trunk. How I wished news of this evening wouldn’t reach Sariel.

“You were fortunate tonight, simpleton, but now you know not to trifle with such matters in the future,” Chevalier said, as Luke pried himself off the trunk and dove for Yves’s basket while Clavis and Nokto compared their face bruises like trophies of war.

Yeah, I thought this was really fun. Thanks for the slumber party invite, Impromptu!

Taglist:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #belle/emma #ikepri belle #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #nokto klein #luke randolph #ikepri chevalier #ikepri clavis #ikepri nokto #ikepri luke #scorchie writes #cw: fighting #cw: injuries #unedited

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ell-arts · 1 year

Text

Sometimes I think back on the 9+ years I've been a fan of PMATGA.

With so much time that has passed, I've come to terms with the fact that the show is never coming back to continue its run. I've made peace with it and know that the chances of Namco picking it up again are next to none because of the show's poor ratings during its run.

It hasn't stopped me from being a fan though, and I can still appreciate its influence in my childhood while acknowledging that the show's over and it's closed its chapter, both in my life and just in the animated series sphere in general.

...BUT THEN sometimes I look back and nostalgia and fixation hits like a runaway brick train and all I can think of is DAMN YOU NAMCO PLEASE BRING IT BACK 😭

#Anyone else feel me on this?#I don't care if classic fans or just any average person thinks I have bad taste for liking GA #This show was my first introduction to Pac-man and I genuinely loved GA's characters so much they were so fun #OFC the show had its flaws and I'm not blind to that #In fact I'm certain if Avri Arad/the creators had given more depth and consistency to the plot and ditched the toilet humour #and focused on genuine character development and not just haha funny kids show tropes #then it would not have been SO flawed #I get sad whenever I'm reminded of how namco has delisted all GA-related games and content on stores #Like it makes sense that they'd want to leave GA behind because it didn't bode well for them or the pac-man franchise #but still #I wanna collect and buy all the GA stuff I've missed out on #the show's expiration on Netflix felt like a kick in the gut #sigh #pmatga #pac man and the ghostly adventures #ramblings

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months

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Donna’s Thursday Radio Show Prompt List! - It's Getting Longer...

It’s that time again! The Radio prompt list!

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

a long history Of breaking little hearts like the one in me

It was summer when I saw your face

I'm just a dead man crawling tonight

They say she's a slut,

Hush now watch the stars fall

You let your clothes fall to the floor And lit a fire while I waited for more

Oh God, I never thought we'd take it that far

You don't have to run, I know what you've been through

In the dead of the night I found out Sometimes there's love that won't survive

one of us gets too drunk and calls about a hundred times

One look at your face I'm back in that place I'm feeling the fire

Remember the words you told me, love me 'til the day I die

Use me take me home and use me

It's a hundred miles an hour on a dirt road

Did I mention the note that I found taped to my locked front door

I can feel that body shake And the heat between your legs

Rebel girl you are the queen of my world

Hit me with your best shot

Some killer queen you are

You beat me at my own damn game

talked about no regrets As it slipped from my hand to the scuffed tile floor

Waiting for you to come home

Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me by name

You've been scared of love and what it did to you

I wanted to think there was endless love Until I saw the light dim in your eyes

When will I ever learn If I wait it doesn't mean You will return

baby, nobody could take my place

I rode the train for hours on end And watched the people pass me by

You don't fight fair

You don't have to run, I know what you've been through

I know sometimes it will hurt, And you wanna hate me,

This is agony But it's still a thrill for me

You would still have me, we work together you see, Blood sweat and tears,

Now I'm running and I can't stop

That girl, she holds her head up so high

Looked like a teenage runaway

Tell me what you really like Baby I can take my time

This could end in tragedy

So who you been calling,

Press your hands against my body

And I watch them burn

Anywhere I go I think about it every day and night, I can't let go

Surrender my everything 'cause you made me believe you're mine

In her kiss, I taste the revolution

Say you want me Out of your life

I live inside his head and pay no rent,

When you're looking at those strangers, hope to God you see my face

I'm just a dead man walking tonight

Hi, motherfucker, did you miss me?

You think that you're my shadow, But you're glittering like gold,

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thesakuragarnet · 7 months

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His Ocean Eyes (first chapter)

Disclaimer: This is just the first chapter! The full fic is ongoing and is posted to AO3! Link will be posted below.

FULL FIC IS 18+ ONLY!

Summary: Dusk is just another outcast. Just another child for Ujiko to exploit once she reaches her full potential. The only difference between her and the others is that she's been plotting her escape since children started disappearing one by one. When the mysterious boy who's been asleep for three years wakes up, allowing her to break free, how will her life change now that she finally has someone she can count on?

Tags: Dabi X Female OC, MHA CH350 spoilers, swearing, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, smut (as of right now, there is no smut published in the fanfiction), canon-typical violence and Dabi-typical body horror, alternate canon, found family, slow burn until it isn't

Word Count: 2,048 words for the first chapter (full fic word count is unknown as it is ongoing)

AO3 link

Chapter 1: Runaways

“HE’S AWAKE! HE’S AWAKE!”

I can hear the children shrieking at the top of their lungs as they run by my room, and I jolt up in the small cot as the thin hospital gown clings to my lithe form. My name is Dusk Ryuuzaki, and I am fourteen years old with green eyes and pale skin. My dirty blonde hair hangs in my face, hiding my eyes like it has most of my life as I exhale upward, blowing the strands out of the way so I can see. My hair is long ; I’ve always been told to cut it, but I’ve never wanted to. I’ve been in this hospital for almost two years. I was twelve when Sensei “rescued” me and brought me here. I was living on the streets for only a day after my Quirkless parents threw me out. My Quirk is…complicated. I can painlessly transform myself into a dragon, yet the senses stay with me at all times. I have increased vision, sense of smell, sense of hearing, strength, and agility. Furthermore, I can breathe fire for about a full minute before it starts to hurt my throat. My Quirk times out in hour intervals, but they’ve gotten lengthier as I've gotten older. I’ve been practicing with the other children, honing our Quirks during our time at the hospital. Every now and then, one kid will disappear, never to be seen again. Sensei’s flower-faced friend assures us that they found a good home, but…I have to admit…things seem…suspicious. The one thing I’ve learned: don’t ask questions. Anyone who asks questions goes missing. Anyone who defies even the slightest order goes missing. Anyone who gets… too good at their abilities goes missing. So, I’ve swallowed my pride by deliberately messing up, taking careful note of every potential exit. I wanted to leave. I didn’t feel safe anymore. I decided to mask my curiosity. That is…except for my curiosity about the boy who just woke up.

He’d been in a coma for three years. Whenever we received breaks, the children would crowd around him, poking and prodding at him, wondering when he would wake up. They said the surgery took days; his skin was so badly burned that the doctor had to transplant practically all of it. Rumors circulated that he was some kind of Frankenstein's monster, but he didn't seem very monstrous to me. He seemed…peaceful…in an exhausted way. Oh, to be asleep for three years dreaming one’s life away. It sounds like a dream come true.

My bare feet hit the cold tile as I run down the hallway toward the large playroom. I stop dead in my tracks when I look through the open door to see the flower-faced friend speaking to him…and Sensei’s voice speaks through the computer screen in the playroom. I can’t see the boy…I can definitely hear him arguing with Sensei…no one ever argues with Sensei.

“No way…am I getting trained by anyone else.”

The voice is raspy and harsh, and the specific timbre chills my ears in a way that only particular sounds resonate.

“Well, you see. I’m afraid…we can’t let you do that,” Flower-faced ‘friend’ mutters, and, suddenly, his sunshine face contorts into an eldritch horror of a scowl.

‘This is what happens before the kids disappear.’

Flower-face lunges forward, and I watch as the kid dives beneath his legs, sliding and pushing himself to his feet as he breaks into a sprint, looking over his shoulder and not paying attention.

SLAM! THUD!

I cry out briefly as he runs right into me, knocking me over as we both fall to the ground. That’s when I see his eyes for the first time.

This boy has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen; they're the most brilliant mix of sapphire and turquoise, like staring into the ocean itself. There’s no time to admire him; I can already hear Flower-face turning around.

“Get off me!” He shouts, shoving himself up as I jump to my feet, brushing off my gown.

“ You ran into me !” I retort before he starts running down the hall without a sideways glance.

“HEY!” I call after him; I know he’s running in the wrong direction. “COME BACK!”

I turn the corner and see him panicking at the dead end, staring up at the green and white checkered walls as if he’s about to have some sort of mental breakdown. He pulls at his hair, and, I swear his skin looks like it’s smoking.

“Hey, hey. This way! I know how to get out of here!” I call, waving him forward as I steal a glance over my shoulder. Flower-face slowly trudges down the hallway like a zombie; it’s like some kind of scene out of Stephen King.

“You’re just a stupid girl. What do you know?” he suddenly blurts, and my eyes narrow.

“Well, this stupid girl , is gonna get us both out of here. Are you in or do you wanna go to whatever fresh hell they have planned for us?” I snap, and he groans dramatically before dashing toward me. I run down the hall as I process the map I’d drawn in my head. Right as he catches up to me, I take a sharp left, using my draconic strength to break through the locked double doors as I force all of my body weight into the shove.

“Whoa,” the kid mutters under his breath as he follows me, and we burst into the courtyard. They only let us out here at night, but what I hadn’t considered was the enormous electric fence and barbed wire above the pillars.

“SHIT!” I hiss under my breath, and the boy raises his eyebrows.

“What do you mean shit ?! I thought you said you could get us out of here!” He screams, and a spark of anger flares in my chest.

“I CAN! LET ME THINK!” I shout back, and, suddenly, a sizzling sound creeps through the air; the boy’s tone shifts from rage to sheer terror.

“NO! NO! NO!” he stammers, and I realize that his skin is literally smoking.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I stammer, registering the fear on his face.

“Get back! I don’t wanna hurt you!” he stutters, “Get away!”

Before I can blink, brilliant azure flames pour down his arms, leaping directly through the open double doors as they start to spread up the enormous compound. Within a few seconds, the flames only lick at his hands, and his eyes well with tears, only for them to evaporate within seconds. The blue flames remain in his palms as he thrashes his hands about.

‘He can’t control his Quirk.’

“HEY!” I shout, braving the heat and stepping closer as I shield my eyes from the blinding blue light.

“STAY BACK!” He screams; it’s a sound of pure anguish and confusion.

“HEY! I CAN HELP!” I snap, and, in a few steps, I’m right beside him. He looks at me like I’ve gone utterly insane. Another Quirk I inherited from my grandparents; my skin is fireproof.

I carefully take his hands in mine, pressing until our palms touch, and a faint hissing sound pierces the sky above the roaring flames in the hospital buildings. His eyes widen, staring into mine as if I’m some sort of alien life form.

“What…Who are you?” He stutters, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as I stare up at him. He’s about half a foot taller than me, and his white hair is dusted with ash as the building continues to burn.

“Dusk Ryuuzaki. My Quirk is Fire Dragon; it’s three in one. That’s how. And…who are you ?” I smile, and he gulps as I release his hands, staring at his slightly singed palms.

“Touya. Touya Todoroki,” He stutters, and I nod.

‘Even his name sounds beautiful.’

“Nice to finally meet you. Now. If we’re going to get out of here-”

‘I CAN FLY US OUT! It’ll just be a little embarrassing…I need Support Gear clothes like that dragon hero.’

“How are we getting out? I’ve torched our only other exit?!” He exclaims, scratching his arm, and I slowly walk behind the lone tree in the courtyard.

“I said my Quirk is Fire Dragon. Do the math, Todoroki,” I snicker as I hide from him and, in one smooth motion, slip out of my gown. I ball it up and throw it around the tree straight for him.

“WHY ARE YOU GETTING NAKED?” He shouts, and I laugh.

“Oh, grow up. I don’t want to not have clothes whenever we get where we’re going. Can you hold onto that for me?” I call out as I begin to activate my Quirk. Painlessly, the change occurs; my skin turns over into dark purple scales, and my hair turns silver and forms a spiky ridge down my neck and two curved horns on my head, and a pair of silver wings sprout out of my back. As I’ve gotten older, my dragon form has gotten larger. I should be as big as Ryukyu when I’m an adult. Right now, I’m as big as a horse. I emerge from behind the tree, and Touya’s blinks, processing what just happened.

“Get on! We’re getting out of this place,” I growl, my voice coming out in a gravelly garble. He hesitates for a second, stealing one last glance at the blazing blue before hefting himself onto my back.

“Hold on to the spikes on my neck! It’s gonna be rough! I’ve never flown with anyone before,” I mutter.

“You wha- AHHHHH! SHIT!” He screams as I take to the air, flapping as hard as I can. He’s not too heavy, but it’s still like I have some cumbersome random weight on my back. He clings to my neck for dear life as I sail into the night sky.

“I’m gonna be sick,” He groans.

“If you puke, don’t get it on me,” I snort as I glide through the fog.

“Okay, I’m okay. I’m okay,” He slurs slowly, and I can feel his staggered breathing on the back of my neck.

“So…where…where should we go?” I ask as I steal a glance over my shoulder at him.

“I…I need to go home. I need to apologize to my family,” He murmurs quietly, and I cock my head.

“For what?” I pry, but he chews his bottom lip as he traces his hands over the lines on his face and neck from where they transplanted skin.

“I…don’t wanna talk about it,” He sighs.

“Well…where is home for you?” I yawn, and Touya sits up straighter.

“Suburban Musutafu. Do you know where that is?” He asks.

‘That’s where I used to live.’

“Yeah,” I mutter, and Touya pokes at the back of my neck. I look over my shoulder back at him once more; his cheeks glow a dull shade of pink in the moonlight.

“Hey, uh. Thanks…for…all that…back there. I know we just met but…I…I appreciate it,” He stutters, and I smile.

“Well…thanks for trusting me to get us out. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve let myself rot in there,” I remark as I return my attention to the horizon.

…

Touya’s been in the house for longer than he should’ve. He said he’d go inside, touch base with his family, and then they’d help me get home…I hadn’t told him that I didn’t even have one anymore. I'd already stopped using my Quirk and pulled the ratty hospital gown back on; I'm gonna need to find some real clothes to steal.

Wordlessly, Touya slips out of the back door, stalking back to me with his hands balled up into fists as tears stream down his face.

“Touya?”

“They thought I was dead. They thought I was dead…and nothing changed…,” He mutters to himself. I wouldn’t know anything about what he was referring to until later. He wipes away his tears.

“I guess, now, I’ll help get you home. Where is that for you?” He sniffs, staring at the ground.

“Nowhere,” I say without missing a beat. His eyes lift up to meet mine.

“Nowhere?” He echoes my words with a pitch at the end.

“Nowhere.”

His lips curl into a sad smile.

“Well…we both live nowhere now.”

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salmonbagel54 · 12 days

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𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Ch. 1

Glam x fem!OC

Y'all already know what it is, I'm back on my bullshit. Fair warning This is like soooooooo boring, but I like the 'runaway start a new life' trope ♡.

Synopsis:

Two houses

Both alike in dignity- nah just kidding

Two people

Two instruments

Six strings and two sticks

Anastasia comes from a prestigious house, one of harsh discipline. Her cello is her only saving grace.

Sebastian lives a double life, violin student by day, rock star by night.

Will they be able to help each other before it's too late?

Tw: basically the same stuff we see happen to glam, abuse, parental indifference, bad writing, blood

Music flows through the room as her nimble fingers dance across the neck of the large instrument. The bow gracefully caresses the strings, producing a graceful sound. She closes her eyes, attempting to transport herself from the room, away from the wretched man watching her with a scornful eye. All too soon, her movements cease.

“Anastasia. Are you trying to embarrass this family?”

“No father,” she refuses to meet his eye.

“You play as if you are a nobody!”.

Anastasia stays silent as her father raises his voice. She knows what will come.

“Hand! Now,” he reaches for the ruler, made of thin, slightly pliable metal. The previous wood ones had all broken, leaving nasty splinters that were a mess to clean.

“Yes father,” she keeps her voice steady, lifting the sleeve on her left hand.

The hits come fast and hard, he stops after three. Nine total for the lesson. The crimson liquid beads quickly before sliding down her arm. A sanguine trail in its wake, she refuses to look at the wound inflicted onto her.

“Go. prepare for bed,” she does not argue.

Anastasia sits on her perfectly made bed, corners tucked, pillow straight. A thin cover of pale pink separates her freshly showered body from the forgiving softness of the mattress underneath.

Everything in Anastasia's life was like her bed. Perfect, presentable, straight laced and tidy; Yet, hiding something just beneath the surface.

She glances at her injured wrist for the first time that evening.

"Well, I assume it could be worse,”

She slowly begins to do a shabby job at patching herself up, attempting to minimize the possibility of scarring. She pauses to put on a Schumann record, one of the 5 pieces of folk music begin with a slide crackle. A sign of her disregard for the fragility of the vinyl.

As the eloquent cello music trickles in one ear and out the other, she tucks the last bit of bandages away. Returning to her forgiving bed once more, she all but collapses into it. Completely exhausted from the day of rigorous training she endured.

“All I have to do is pass the entrance exam. Maybe father will be easier on me,” attempting to reason with herself, even if she does not truly believe it.

Unable to tuck herself beneath the thin sheets, sleep overtakes her quickly.

The small silver alarm clock marks 7 am with its song, full of dissonance and no resolution. A manicured hand slaps down in a rough ungraceful manner, silencing the item until the next morning. Crawling off the bed reluctantly, Anastasia readies herself for the day.

A graceful ankle length, long sleeve, off the shoulder dress. Forest green to compliment her auburn hair, to hopefully make her dull sage eyes brighter. Hair pulled into a perfect bun at the base of her neck. Delicate pearls adorn her collar and ears, a gift from her late grandmother.

She makes her way to the dining table, egg whites and asparagus on her plate, waiting for her.

“Are you ready for your exam, dear?” Ardelia Hearst doesn't even spare a glance at her daughter, continuing to gracefully sip white grape juice.

“Yes mother, I expect to be top 3 if not first,” Anastasia doesn't even attempt to garner her mothers full attention.

Richard snaps his eyes onto her.

“Why would you settle for anything less than first,” he states, his stare hardening into a glare.

She immediately pales, her mistake dawning on her.

He stands, making his way towards her when he is stopped by his wife.

“Now dear, you don't want her shaking during her performance. Punish her when she returns if you must,”

He considers her words for a moment, before returning to his seat.

“Eat. or you’ll be late,”

Her mothers kindness doesn't go unnoticed as she finishes quickly, thanking the butler and her parents before heaving her cello onto her back. With one last glance she proceeds out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah there's that, and just throwing it out there I know this is super stereotypical fan fiction girlie stuff, but don't bully Stasia, please 😭 she can't take it (I also refuse to accept criticism obvi).

#glam x oc #metal family #glam metal family #glam shvagenbagen #glam Shvagenbagen x oc #metal family oc #metal family fanfic

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