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dazednmatthews · 8 days

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(don’t tell me) you need me now? m. sturniolo x reader series

INTRO:

SYNOPSIS: once upon a time, matt and y/n used to be together. only, not really together, but that toxic middle ground between a relationship and strangers. y/n used to think matt hung the moon, but matt couldn’t be bothered to show he cared beyond the walls of their bedrooms. when she realizes that she deserves better, matt is gone and exed out from her life.

two years later and y/n is living her best life. she’s dating someone, has great friends and is so over her old not-boyfriend. or so she thought. until matt starts showing up everywhere. until he tells her that he wants to try again, and swears that he’s gonna do whatever it takes to get her back. it leaves y/n’s head reeling, re-defining everything she thought was true about the past, present and future. for her, there’s always been a thin line between self preservation and destruction. with matt back into her orbit, she’s right back there, toeing that line. god. here we go again.

WARNINGS:

use of y/n, alcohol, drugs (weed), cursing, suggestive as hell, toxic themes, angst (but sexy!)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

prologue: i’m done being yours

chapter one: all bitter, no sweet

chapter two: (should hate you but) can’t make my mind up

chapter three: better than the rest

chapter five: take your time my baby (i’m waiting here for you)

chapter six: tell me what you’re willing to do

chapter seven: you and i (don’t let go)

epilogue: (loving you) it takes me higher

CHARACTERS:

y/n (main character)

matt (main love interest)

chris (obviously)

nick (obviously)

logan (matt’s best friend)

marigold stevens (y/n’s best friend)

celia foster (y/n’s best friend)

myles (y/n’s current love interest)

INFO:

1. this is essentially an oc/yn mashup. it’ll still be written as y/n and be a vague description (reader is black, like everything i write), but there’ll be a storyline and characters.

2. this is an au, so matt is essentially just a face claim. this is all fiction y’all so treat it as such

3. this will have very, very hectic updates!! this is much more in depth than anything i’ve done and i have a really good, thought out plan but i am a busy woman so be mindful

4. that’s literally it let’s get fucking LITTTTT

PLAYLIST:

(first eight are in order according to chapter titles)

you need me me now? girl in red feat. sabrina carpenter

good in goodbye madison beer

whiskey blues tanner adell

let me love you ariana grande feat. lil wayne

congratulations mac miller feat bilal

kiss it better rihanna

about you the 1975

won’t let you mormor

bittersweet tragedy melanie martinez

potential summer walker

w.d.y.w.f.m the neighbourhood

hurricane halsey

feather sabrina carpenter

hurts 2 hate somebody elio, chase atlantic, no rome

boyfriend ariana grande and social house

r e a l w o m a n partynextdoor

if u think i’m pretty artemas

i mean it g-eazy, remo the hitmaker

we lied to each other olivia o’brien

baby doll dominic fike

habits (stay high) tove lo

still got it troye sivan

say yes to heaven lana del rey

[will probably definitely be updated as the story progresses]

TAG LIST:

@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @55sturn @chrryclouds @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds @unbruisable

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sturniol0s · 2 months

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STALKER - MATT STURNIOLO

part 2

summary- a new girl had just moved into town across the sturniolo house. matt falls in love with her and becomes more obsessed day by day.

disclaimer- use of y/n, stalking.

a/n: currently on second season of you☺️ i need to stop making these so short or im gonna have like 22 parts atp.

not proofread

its currently 10 pm on a friday night, im watching y/n as she scrolls through her phone.

she looks so good but yet doing nothing.

i get up and go to my desk to turn on my computer, i open the security camera app to see that shes not there any more.

fuck did i mess up the time?

i check at the time to see that it says 8 pm, its 2 hours behind how the am i supposed to change it back.

• 3:08 am

im in her back yard trying to get into her house by pick locking the door.

it worked, im in. im in the living room trying to find where the bear is, is it upstairs?.

i sneak upstairs in to her room noticing her bathroom light was on so i could easily grab it.

im in the hallway hearing the faucet turns off.

i hide behind her chair watching her get out the bathroom in those shorts that hug her curves perfectly.

i can smell the perfume i bought you, how nice of u to use my gift.

she grab her blanket and curls up in to a ball under neath it, fuck she looks good her hookups must be lucky.

• 3:30 am

she has finally fell asleep, i get up and sneak over to the bear right next to her bed.

she even looks cute while sleeping, i couldn’t help to snip a couple photos of her.

i grab the bear and take the camera out of the eye and change the time on the side.

i place it back to where it was and sneak back downstairs leaving a note on her counter.

——

hello you, you look so cute while sleeping didn’t wanna wake you up, i can smell the fresh scent of roses in your room, the perfume i have bought you.

——

• the following morning

she must’ve saw my note since she is outside placing security cameras.

you may have cameras but you will never catch me.

the air feels some what thick.

you might think your safe but you don’t know what i have in plan next.

a/n 2: lowkey im interested what hes gonna do even though im writing this yk what i mean❓

tag list💗: @chrisloyalgf @sturnsvlg @sturnsjtop @ihearttsyouu @xgsturn @bunnysturns @kiibichio @ghostlypineappl @ihateeveryone357474 @suyqa @iloveneilperry @mbbsgf @heartz4janellieeeeeee @hearteyesformatt @sturnioloslife @delilahluvsu @b2cute @nellyjan-th @jeanieswagger @tillies33ssss @tapesmatts @sturniologirl813 @vane2realz @sturnzsblog @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolobessed @samandcolbyfan22 @blahbel668 @mirandakay20 @vinniehackerslefttoe @melonjollyranche @hopefuljellyfishcollection @bluesturniolo333 @sofiabrown1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tay-laaaaa @sturnsjtop @annamcdonalds67 @sil-ver-star-light @taygracie @vickyzloserz @unbruisable @urmommysbathroom @pearlzier @huntiesworld @h3arts4harry @klaus223492 @sturn777 @qrzrrae @st7rnioiossblog

xoxo lacy💋

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beatopia-films · 9 hours

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FARMERS DAUGHTER part iv !

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings : strong language, references to hate/threats, cuteness

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━

after hanging out for a couple of hours, matt drove y/n home just before 9pm. the pair continued to text throughout the night until they both fell asleep, unaware of the chaos that would unfold the next morning.

y/n woke up to at least a thousand notifications on instagram, most of them being follows and some being messages from what it looked like, sturniolo fans.

she quickly read through some of the messages and was immediately caught off guard by what they said. she’s never been sent such horrible stuff in her life.

the threats were so descriptive and they were definitely out of pure jealousy and hatred. y/n quickly took a screenshot of the messages and sent them to matt, who was completely unaware of the situation.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT MATT STURNIOLO & “FARM GIRL”

where it started : the triplets posted a vlog of them going to a farm and feeding all the animals, where matt met y/n, the farmers daughter and many people are questioning their relationship due to strong tension between them

here is the video below

what happened next? : after a few days, multiple fans found y/n’s instagram (which is now private) and attempted to find her for matt despite him wanting to keep her privacy. her username is y/n.19

now many people are speculating their relationship and think they’re secretly dating which could be a possibility as just a couple of hours ago, they were spotted together.

many fans have spoken their minds about this whole situation. one fan tweeted “they’re so cute together, i hope they’re dating!” whereas another fan replied with “she’s defo using him for money & fame.”

we are all entitled to our own opinions but please keep the nasty comments to yourself as it’s really harmful and disrespectful to those involved.

personally, i think it doesn’t matter if they’re saying as they’re both adults and can do whatever they want with their lives!

what do you think on this topic?? comment your thoughts!

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━

TAGLIST

@jnkvivi @sturniololvrrr @iluvmattsbeard @bxtchboy69 @cheesesoda @mattyb4dominicans @hearteyesformatt @stasiesturn @nsjsnshey @nathandoesgf @franticroads @mattybslover @larnieboox88 @e1ias3 @sturniolosarethebest @sturnish @cdbabymp3 @sturnzsblog @unbruisable

#matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo x reader #x reader

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ynmnrmt · 4 months

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You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 2

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 2,629

warnings: explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy

a/n: More fun with WWE superstar Rhea Ripley and her hopelessly wet roommates. Comments and feedback welcome, fawning praise very welcome.

(Chapter one here)

You arrive home late, delayed by picking up a bundle of flowers and a bottle of Jennifer’s favourite wine, with the vague thought you can actually give her the romantic night you’d intended this time without getting distracted. When you get through the door you catch a flash of studded black leather in the corner of your eye, it’s Rhea wandering into the kitchen, and maybe it’s best she doesn’t catch you with a bag full of date-night. But then she leans on the doorway and grunts in pain-

“Rhea, are you okay?”

She jumps a little, and turns to face you, saying “Didn’t hear you come in”. You drop the bag when you see the purple bruise spreading off the corner of her eye.

“What happened?”

“It’s alright – someone at work hit me with a chair and a ladder.” You’re too outraged for words, the fury goes straight to your head before you remember what, exactly, it is that Rhea does for a living.

“I,” you chuckle at yourself, “I’m sorry, for a second there I was about to swear revenge on them.” And Rhea laughs aloud.

“You’re so sweet. No, it’s alright, I’m fine. It’s just-” She swallows casually from a bottle of pills, easy as breathing. “It’s the nature of kayfabe, it’s all fine, but there’s only so far you can pretend to be smacked with a folding chair.”

“Your poor face, though.”

Rhea laughs again, but this time it has an edge to it. “I’d forgotten about that part.” Before you can react – cry out to stop? No, surely not – she’s popped open her bodice, and you don’t even have the flush of desire that goes with a woman pointing her breasts at you, not faced with the livid purple bruise that stretches from her hip halfway up her ribcage.

“Jesus!” From the regular diamonds of unbruised skin, you figure this was the ladder.

“Don’t worry, I got them back, although,” and there’s a barely-perceptible shift in her register, a sudden slyness in the way she looks at you, “I am very sore. And it hurts to walk. Maybe you could help me shower off?” Now she’s opened her top, it hardly even seems like an odd thing to say.

“I – it’s not that I don’t want to, but, stuff like that, I wouldn’t be comfortable without Jen here,” you say, trying not to let your gaze slide down to Rhea’s chest.

“Aw, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. In fact, you saw how she was, she’d probably get off on it if she knew that we...no, you’re right, we shouldn’t. It’s nice, the way you think of her like this.”

“Right, so, unfortunately I won’t be able to help you shower off.”

“No. Sure. I think we’re in complete agreement.”

The first burst of water from the showerhead catches you full in the face, but you blink it away quickly, a significant part of you not wanting to miss a single glimpse. You rub the soap in your hands fruitlessly, and start to sweat, not wanting to look a fool in front of Rhea, but then as the water gets hotter the bubbles start to come. When you’ve worked it up into a decent lather you run it up Rhea’s torso, over her bruises, gently at first but then she puts her hand over yours and presses it down just a little more, her wince doesn’t kill the warmth.

“I was so worried, when you said – and when you showed me-” you gasp, in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the water running across you both. You’d be gaping anyway, putting your hands all over her chest. “If you quit, we’d understand. We’d take care of you.” God, where did you pull that from? It sounds too much like her little fantasy of you and Jennifer being a couple taking advantage of her.

“I had,” confesses Rhea, “thought that – I make enough money, if you guys quit your jobs then you could take care of me.” She clutches lightly at your hands as they rove around her waist. “I’m sorry, that’s just, like, some fantasy I had, the kind of thing that would never happen in real life.”

You need absolutely no prompting to kneel and start going up and down her thick, tattooed thighs. Having her standing over you, as the water trickles through the soap suds, feels faintly like it shouldn’t happen in real life either. “Well, um, you have to dream.” The feel of the muscles in her leg makes you dream right here.

“I don’t care about the other stuff, it’s just the being taken care of I’m really interested in,” muses Rhea, now running her hands through her hair. “I do feel very lucky. Having someone to wash me up...and wash me down.” And yes, your hands have slipped round the back of her legs now, you don’t grope, you don’t squeeze, but it’s impossible not to feel. She fits nicely in your hands, big and powerful back there, the way she is everywhere else, it’s so exciting you could almost forget you’re face to face with her pussy.

"Wait, Rhea," you say, quickly, to cover the fact your tongue had started to stick out all on its own. "I can't - I want to make you feel good, I want to do that for you right now, but I can't. Not without Jen, I should at least talk it over with her if we're going to do anything."

"Oh God, I'm so glad you said that," exhales Rhea, and drops down to her knees to join you. This bends your erection down when she catches it between her legs, then it pops back up to rest against the edges of her abs, for a second you feel you might come from that alone. She doesn't seem to notice or care. "This whole time, I thought I should, but I didn’t want to, but still - I couldn't do that to her, she's been so nice about all of this." And her grin returns, straight back from that expression of genuine worry and relief. "And so have you." Down here, she doesn't seem so massive. You kiss as the water streams over you.

Jennifer finally arrives as you're working the knots out of Rhea's sturdy shoulders while she lies topless on the couch, which had initially seemed like such a chaste thing compared to what you did in the shower. You leap up and take Jennifer in your arms and kiss her, half guilt, half desire. She keeps kissing after you break apart, eyes closed, lips still moving.

"I'm sorry," she says, dazed, "it's been a long day and I really just want to jump in the shower. Oh my God, Rhea, what happened?"

"Hit by a ladder," shrugs Rhea, looking up with her chin rested on her hands. "Happens all the time."

"I think I've got some pills in the bathroom."

When she leaves, Rhea says "Come on, finish me off."

"Don't say it like that," you say, mounting her again, and she gives a quiet cackle.

"You know," she adds, with a dark bloom, "you'd probably be better getting at some of the muscles from, um, the front," and before you can think she has corkscrewed her way over to lie on her back, and now she blushes up at you, breasts aimed at you again.

"I really don't think-"

"Rhea!" Jennifer's standing in the doorway.

"Yeah?" asks Rhea, in the way she might while fully clothed, without you on top of her grasping the meaty parts at the base of her neck.

"Did you use my towel?"

"No!" All girlish outrage, an obvious lie, even before Jennifer holds up her towel to show the three black stains of makeup that even damp and smeared still look like Rhea's cruel grin.

"You did! That's clearly your makeup on it, and it even smells of you, and-" To demonstrate, Jennifer actually lifts the towel to her face, over her mouth and nose, and then she goes "Oh..." through the material.

"Alright, you've got me," says Rhea. "I'm sorry I used your towel."

"And - and I don’t appreciate you showing off your tits around my boyfriend, either," insists Jennifer, outraged herself now in a fragile sort of way. "You cover up." She lays the towel across Rhea's chest in such a way that her hands are on Rhea's breasts.

"Well," breathes Rhea, her eyes flicking between you both, "full service, huh?"

"I bet you like this," Jennifer husks at you, while Rhea clasps her hands behind her head and enjoys the show. "I bet you're hard for her, I bet you're getting harder for her than you ever have for me."

"No! I-" You lie out of love for her, but there's no point even finishing the sentence when she reaches out and grabs your cock to see for herself, because pressed up against Rhea you are of course rock hard.

"Oh, come on," says Rhea, master of all she surveys as she lies beneath you both. "Don't stand there and try to pretend you're not enjoying this too."

Jennifer hangs her head. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"No, that's okay - to be honest it does add a bit of a frisson, you being all infuriated like that." And this brightens Jennifer's mood a little. "Now keep working my tits."

And she does, massaging them through the towel, the same way you go over the muscles around Rhea's shoulders, even up onto her immense biceps and triceps, the full weight of those incredible arms. Then, blushing and stammering things that were never words in the first place, Jennifer takes her hands away, and gently moves yours onto where they were.

"Could we just go to bed? Please?" she asks, lightly grasping you as you squeeze Rhea's breasts. "Would that be okay? I want to fuck, and then, then I want to sleep..."

You try not to glance down at Rhea. You try not to seek her permission. And maybe it's not her little nod that prompts you to say "Of course we could, I'd love that." And she blows you both a kiss, one each, as you leave the room.

Jennifer fumbles with your clothes, her cheeks flushed and her breaths heavy. It does things to your heart when she's like this, of course it does, same as it always did. And her soft, little body still turns you on, it still excites you to lift her bra from her chest. But now you have visions of Rhea dancing in your head, like a force of nature, irresistible.

"I love you," you promise Jennifer as you lay her down on the bed, and it's true, you do, you care for her and want her to be happy.

"It turned me on seeing you with Rhea," she confesses, vulnerable amidst the bedclothes. "I liked it."

"I would never do it, not if you weren't okay with it," you say.

"I bet you would," she fires back, and lifts her head for a badly aimed kiss that catches the corner of your mouth. You unzip your trousers and her glow of excitement grows. You lie down on top of her, and enjoy this for a moment, still in this position before you start. And then, without hearing the door, you feel weight on your back, arms like sculpted pink-marble pillars slam onto the bed on either side of you, and Jennifer's eyes turn wondrous.

"I was thinking about you two," Rhea husks, the words warm in your ear. "And I couldn't resist."

You penetrate Jennifer and when you do Rhea's hips move too, driving you forward with more force and more urgency than you could manage on your own. Jennifer squeaks and claws at the bedclothes as if she is hanging on for dear life. You pull back, drawing yourself out, and Rhea retreats too, to let you do it. But then the next bump of her hips takes you completely by surprise, and Jennifer squeaks and nearly crosses her eyes.

After a few more thrusts like this Rhea drops her weight onto you and makes Jennifer squeak again. It knocks the wind out of you but simultaneously, to be sandwiched between the two of them, it is fulfilling in a way you had never even conceived of. You keep shoving with your hips as best you can, these little movements seem pathetic and insignificant but Jennifer kisses at you with more passion than ever and tells you not to stop.

Rhea brings her arms into play, even with their mass between you and Jennifer you feel closer to her than you ever have before. One gropes at Jennifer's trembling little breasts, but the other, it reaches down and makes you nervous for where it could possibly be going, with the other she grabs your balls and starts jerking you back and forward that way as well. With three hands all over her body Jennifer pulses on your cock in a way that's unimaginably pleasurable.

You pulse back, to do anything you can to be in sync with her trapped here so helplessly, clenching tight to rush the blood in your cock and get deeper inside her. She’s losing her grip on the bedclothes, her hands flail about madly, and she bites her lip as if trying not to scream.

"Keep fucking her, make her feel good," Rhea snarls, as she rams her body up against yours, "and Jen, you take his cock like a good girl-"

"Ahhh!" Jennifer's cry is so quiet, she hardly has enough breath to give it life. But she herself jolts as if she's got a live wire in her back, and you feel her wetness all over your belly and down your legs. Rhea holds you in place as she sprays you.

Every inch of Jennifer's body still quivers when you feel yourself slip over the edge, and with your face pressed into her shoulder you try to stagger out a warning "Rhea, wait - Jen, I'm going to - please, Jen - Rhea -" Then you explode right there inside her, and the come keeps coming longer than feels possible. All your limbs stiffen with such unwilling force it even makes Rhea loosen her grip a bit.

"Ahh," she sighs, and rolls off you quite casually. "I don’t know about you guys, but I loved that."

"I did too!" Jen follows suit, gazing up at you with hooded postorgasmic eyes.

Rhea shakes her shoulder. "You should really go pee after sex."

"But, but that means you'd still be here and you'd get to snuggle up," Jennifer protests. Rhea shakes her shoulder again, in no way aggressive, in simple friendly fashion, and that's enough to make her wriggle out from under you and skip off to the bathroom.

"She did have a good idea, though," Rhea draws you in. You hang off her side, softening cock pressed to her hip, not much you can do with that. When you touch her stomach, you meet her wrist there already, and with one flash of that smile you follow it down and help her masturbate.

With your fingers entwined in hers, you rub her softest places until she starts to moan. Jennifer crawls back into bed behind you and you roll over to give her some attention, but you do not stop touching Rhea.

"I love you," you say, "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," Jennifer whispers. Behind you Rhea grunts and gasps out her climax. "I like it when you come in me."

"Yeah," agrees Rhea, and the feeling of simply being in bed between them gives you a warm tingle.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #rpf #rhea ripley fanfiction #rhea ripley smut

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tunastime · 1 year

Text

back around

To continue loving is the greatest feat of perseverance. Love is the one thing we always have to give.

Etho will finally reunite with Bdubs, alongside a long, internal struggle, after Bdubs gets back from Double Life. Until then, Etho lives alone, and finally comes to terms with, and accepts, the love he knows he deserves.

(6227 words)

There’s nothing pleasant about respawn.

Etho wakes up in the basement of the monolith and his eyes burn. Around him still lingers the smell of burning hair and charcoal. Joel’s voice rings in his periphery, hoarse and afraid for the very first time. Etho took his time leaving that world, feeling the shape of Joel tug on his sleeve. To remember him in another life. He’s a good guy, a better fighter, desperately loyal. He knows that, at least next time, he might have somebody to trust again. Etho opens his eyes. The world dips and sets him back into bed too fast.

His stomach rolls as he does, onto his hands and knees, coughing up and swallowing down. He sinks to the cool floor, and for a long moment, tries to keep his head from spinning. Wake with the spins, go to bed with the spins. His hands splay out. Wooden slats beneath him. Quiet around him.

When he finally collects himself enough to stand, the first thing he does is stand in the threshold of the bathroom holding the door frame tight with both hands. In the light he can just barely see his bare face, tired but unbruised. It’s a face he hasn’t seen in a while. He tracks his eyes in the mirror and his pupils are big to take in the light. These aren’t the clothes he died in. He washes his face in the sink. He rinses his hands. Twice. Three times. He doesn’t have the patience for a bath, but there’s a fine feeling on his skin—sticky and unclean. Not blood. Sweat.

Etho takes a long breath in, sighs, and stands up straight. Then, and only then, does he try to remember how to be himself again. He pads into the other room, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. He changes his clothes and leaves the old ones in a heap on the bedside. Something about the repetition of changing makes his skin crawl a little less. He changes his socks. He combs back his hair with his fingers.

Time passes differently here. When he makes it to the staircase that should lead up into the rest of the monolith, he checks the calendar, the remnant of one. A few nights will pass until everyone is collected and brought back. A few nights will pass before people realize they don’t have to stay to watch bloodshed. Or when they get bored. And Etho is here, now. No use watching bloodshed. No use watching someone die.

Etho trails up the stairs. He pulls his mask over his face only when he reaches the landing, right before the door. The air is still and cool. The inside of the monolith is still and cool too, but something lingers. The fragments of living—the smell of cooked food, coffee, still lit lanterns. It’s midday; Etho peeks out through one of the windows to see a bright blue sky and a stretch of birch as far as he can see.

He wanders up the stairs with his heart thumping in his chest. It isn’t possible for him to be back so soon. Is it?

He keeps going, tracing up the wall as he walks. There isn’t a noise.

The whole monolith is quiet, a settling sound he hasn’t heard in weeks. No shuffling or movement, no sound of anyone living besides him. He knows it’s not the truth, he knows Ren wanders upstairs–he has to be up there. It would only make sense, given the timing.

Etho pauses at the threshold.

When he stops at the doorway, the sun is pooling into the window, filtering through the dust. On the table is a coffee cup, a dish, a dishrag left abandoned. He pushes past a vine that climbs down the beam and into the entryway. The leaves of their potted plants trickle down the wall. There is silence, aside from the faint sounds of birds and cicadas and windchimes.

When he looks into the kitchen, there are only empty dishes.

Etho rinses out the metal kettle and fills it with water. He lights the burner. The kettle goes on top. He takes down one cup and a tin. The tin, in capital letters, reads: lavender lemon.

On the stove, the kettle begins to boil.

(read the rest on ao3!)

#ethubs #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #hermitcraft fic #fics #text #mcyt #mcyt fic #another installment of give me your shoulders!#ouhrgrhghrgr this one is so old it's been in the drafts forever #but huuuge shout out to monolith for making this happen #huge shout out to laurie in particular for driving me to keep writing in the GMYS series of events #its so so important to me #back on the ethubs grindset #the ethubs posting begins again NOW #i know.. two tuna fics in a week.. that's crazy #it's all backlog babey

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riewritten · 1 year

Note

hi love ur writing sm

can we get part 2 of erwin x marley reader ?

i got this req more than a month ago, and as much as i hate to admit it, i think this will get more than a part 2. oh my god. oh my GOD. i have nothing but my impulses to blame.

THE WORST KIND OF NOTHING

CHAPTERS: 2/10 (TENTATIVE) | READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

PAIRING: ERWIN SMITH & FEM!READER & ZEKE YEAGER

leaving the pairing ambiguous for now bc i honestly don't know what will happen

WORDS: 1.5k | AO3 | FANFICTION

TAGS: Manga S4 spoilers, Canon AU – The Attack on Liberio Failed, Violence, Psychological Warfare, Manipulation, Character Study, Enemies to ? heh... let us see

It’s as if you are born once again in a pristine body devoid of any memories.

Except that it wasn’t in any way pristine, nor were you a newly-born infant.

You are lying on a ruined land, rough ground forming blisters on your bare back. When you sat up, what daunted was a doomsday: a village piled with carcasses, full of dead bodies. You are the only one alive—no, you are the only one unbruised out of all that had died. You don’t remember anything.

It’s as if you are born once again in a pristine body devoid of any memories.

Except that it wasn’t in any way pristine, nor were you a newly-born infant.

You are nothing. In a vast space with nothing but carcasses, the only thing you have is a body, not even clothes that the corpses wear.

It is until a blonde man with a beard and glasses spoke from behind, “Aren’t you cold?” He knelt and wrapped you up with a thick white cloth. “That’ll do for now, would you mind? I can’t afford my soldiers blushing amidst this tragic scene.” It sounded like a joke — at least you had the baseline comprehension to understand so. “Yelena, it’s all clear!”

“Who are you?”

He put his hand on his chin as if to think about it, so lack of seriousness and urgency as if no one’s dead at all. His face soon changed when he laid his eyes on you again, “Shall we have a deal first?”

“Who are you?”

“Look at your surroundings. Do you have any idea what just happened?”

Roaming your eyes all over, your question really did change. You gulped as fear reckoned inside, “What happened?”

“You killed them. All of them.” And unlike his jokey tone, he scooted his face nearer to whisper with dead eyes, “And I could do the same to you right now with one wrong move.” If his goal was to intimidate, it sure did work; your primal urge to survive kicked in, proving a semblance of humanity in your empty vessel. “I won’t make things complicated. All I want is for you to accept my deal.”

You stared at him, blank and confused, and thus his face turned casual again.

“Don’t get too scared, though! I’ll give you the benefit of a decent life despite all the lives that you took from my men!”

That was the last ping for you to understand the gist of your disposition. He really wasn’t lying because lots of corpses are wearing the same uniform as him. Fear reeked further inside with nothing in mind but the primal desire to survive.

“What’s the deal all about?”

The question was followed by a painful injection shot on your nape. Zeke got a bit surprised but it was followed by a chuckle, “Don’t just strike from behind, Yelena.”

“You can save the talk for later, Zeke. We should neutralize her first. Who knows what she can do?”

You resisted out of impulse, but the said Yelena grabbed your head and shoved it at Zeke’s chest. You can almost feel your neck tear apart with the reeking pang of fluid. You can hear it gushing. You can feel how huge the needle is. You groaned and wiggled away, but Zeke caught you in his arms with soothing hums. It won’t take long, it won’t take long. There, there, young lady. You can do it.

When the fluid emptied, Yelena harshly dropped you and then tied your arms behind your back. The cloth fell off; she heeded it no mind. Zeke let out a light tsk, “Have some pity on her. Can’t you feel how cold the breeze is?” But then he got distracted by the blister on your stomach. “Oh, poor you. We have to treat this later on.”

“Quite unique that your eyes are not lurking around her boobs."

Zeke shook his head in dismay then nonchallantly wrapped you up with the cloth again, “That’s very untimely, Yelena.”

“Continue your talk. We’ll be waiting at the base."

You felt utterly dizzy. Your vision is wobbly and Zeke is multiplying kaleidoscopically. He knew it well hence he held onto your shoulders for support. “So speaking of the deal…”

“Deal…” you blankly muttered with the last bits of consciousness.

“There, there,” Zeke’s palm caught your cheek that was about to fall on the ground. “Be a good soldier by my side and you shall live that undeservingly decent life. That’s a bit generous offer, don’t you think?”

“H-huh…”

“Think about it, I couldn’t be so generous anymore if you were to turn me down. The least that I could do by then is make you choose how you want to die.” He tapped your cheek. “Hear me? Oh, don’t tell me you’re about to faint. You hadn’t even told me your name yet!”

“H…hah…”

When your consciousness fluttered away for good, you felt him catch you. The kaleidoscope roamed all over your vision until it was no more. His soothing voice slowly transitioned into tip taps of the water, and the reeking smell of corpses changed into a rusty chamber. When you opened your eyes again, what daunted is still a blonde, but it’s not Zeke anymore.

“That’s quite rude, spacing out in the middle of a life-changing contract.” Erwin deadpanned.

“What?” roaming around the surroundings answered the prompt. You’re in a torture chamber and the Commander is forming up a shenanigan. “The deal, yeah, we’re talking about a deal.”

“A loyal wildcard that wouldn’t break for me in exchange for a decent life amidst the crimes you had done with my men — was my offer too much to handle for your consciousness to slip away? I thought it was a generous one.”

Oh, nothing had changed. From the first memory you ever had of this world up to your tied-up figure now, you still have nothing. Nothing but generous offers of blondes who would kill you in a snap for noncompliance.

“What do you know about me? Let’s start from that before running through the deal.”

“You’re speaking as if I could offer you another choice.”

“I can’t deal with someone who doesn’t know the hell he is trying to pry in.”

The Commander nodded at the given point, impressed. Without further ado, he shoved the medical equipment away and pulled your chair so you’d hear properly the things he was about to say. “The mysterious massacre at the Marleyan port involving soldiers and citizens alike. I heard that caused an impediment with the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers and yet…” he tipped his head to the side, looking a bit too curious about the answer. You’re uncertain if he’s just messing around or he really doesn’t know. “It was reported that the instigator was safe kept by Zeke and masked as a newly recruited underling. Oh, if only there weren’t any witnesses.”

The Commander stood up and walked behind your back and — much to your uncomfortability — glazed his fingers on your nape. He lightly pressed on a spot in the middle; the jitters ran through your nerves, roaring your heartbeat louder. “And as we speak, serum fluid is running through your nerves. How cruel of him to put you on a leash without your consent.”

Your breathing went labored, hands went colder — this man really knows what he’s talking about; he very much knows the hell he is trying to pry in. Maybe—just maybe—he even knows more than you.

His hands slid towards your shoulder next. He leaned his head, mouth nearer to your ear so you’d hear the first package of his deal, “Since it’ll be your first job under my command, I won’t impose much burden on your hands. All you have to do is prove that you really can be an unbreakable weapon for the Scouts.”

Despite the utter feeling of powerlessness, of lack of control, of lack of everything since the day you got “born,” you kept yourself intact. “How would I do that?” The question was muttered with no hint of bother, just as you vehemently attempted so.

“You just have to wait until he screams. If you turned into a titan, then my soldiers would release you of your despair. If not, then you don’t have to prove anything else — our deal officially starts by then.”

You just have to wait until he screams. If you turned into a titan, then my soldiers would release you of your despair.

If you’d be honest, your powerlessness includes ignorance. Not even you know the answer to that question — that’s what tied you to the sweet ruthless Zeke after all.

However, despite the looming answers, you had quite a twisted wish.

You wish his scream would really turn you into a mindless monster, which Erwin’s crew could dispose of so quickly. The most pleasant deal you’ve gotten so far was his, after all. The pleasant deal of releasing you of your short-lived despair — of the lives you took, of the leash tied at you, of the shackles wrapping your hands behind your back.

The best deal you’ve got was with the Commander of this hell of an island.

With that in mind, you looked him in the eye and nodded, “Not like I have something else to lose.”

The Commander, now satisfied with the ordeal, offered you a cordial smile. “Worry not, I swear to treat you better than they did.”

🏷 @frenchdyer @watyousayin | SUBSCRIBE HERE

WELP… that took quite a dark turn. for context of this AU, i’m exploring a rather dead theory about how ymir just altered the canon timeline so eren would have no choice but to do the rumbling! i don’t believe in that theory myself but for the sake of this fanfic, this will revolve in a setting where:

mikasa ANSWERED eren properly (you're not just a family something something) and so they ran away together. BUT DON'T worry, eren will still run behind the curtains. his characterization just wouldn't sit still, i know) and;

both armin and erwin lived

but why these two variables? why did ymir not alter the timeline in favor of the rumbling? that’s where you enter the picture. good luck!

ALSO, sharing this colossal titan!erwin smith. whew.

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altarbled · 2 months

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eaten or rotten. i am all mouth.

basics.

given name. akami sakurai. nickname. mimi, aki, give them some. label. the bloodhound. age. thirty-one. place of birth. los angeles, california. gender identity. non-binary ( they + she ). orientation. pansexual. occupation. outlaw at the campsite. moral alignment. neutral / chaotic evil. character inspiration. frankenstein’s monster ( frankenstein ), power ( chainsaw man ), pearl ( x film series ), jinx ( arcane ), libby day ( dark places ), thomasin ( the vvitch ), anakin skywalker / darth vader ( star wars ), dani ardor ( midsommar ), rebecca ( cyberpunk: edgerunners ).

background.

a mother dreams of her child, congealed into the walls of her womb. her poorly-shelled little peanut. you are a soft thing once –– indented by fingerprints that can’t be your own –– gently swaddled in jelly that should’ve grown into muscle. soft like tears leaking through their eyelids. where her skin is weakest; where her fingers cannot press deep enough to crack you open into her own hands. you will be cruel, and seep through her belly button under a blanket of moonlight. ensuring a mother’s body betrays her. again and again. she stops sleeping. her body swells until she feels a heartbeat at the harsh crest of her belly.

in her unblinking haze, a man thumbs her bruised eyebags. a man who birthed none yet fathers many. a perfect baby, he says, who will perfectly live. you tear into the world, instead, blood wetting your tongue like spit. a birth-bed kills when delivering you. mottled by lungfuls of cries, and your mother’s newly barren body. a neutered woman; her purpose fulfilled. akami will think this, meanly, as they christen a new knife. you are heavy in her arms: a baby skull harder than her reedy collarbone. and now she is the only blood you can share. there will never be another of your kind. you’ve atoned, he says, for being born. she will sleep, and you will continue to wake.

your mother cradles you loosely, once your raven hair can braid. in her grip, with your enfleshed body, you would fall without your whitened knuckles clutching tightly at her. to mewl at your mother’s feet. those fingers pick knots from your hair; too afraid to scruff you truly. you leave bite-marks on the meat of her palm. your mother has two hands: one for the lord and the other for her own heart. all that remains, then, is the father. who will find you, as he always does, alone at the riverbank. plopping rocks into the abyss where you poured your friend. the one who would lie upon the mossy ground beside you, smearing mud on your cheeks, and scaring away a pair of torch-lit, glowing eyes. pushed to the bottom of the riverbed, she will no longer see the stars up in the black, night sky.

this father’s eyes glint, looking down upon you. just like hers. do you miss her, he asks. miss her how, you reply. his thumb finds the unbruised, tender spot on your forehead. do you miss her? tears glass your eyes. no, you reply. he presses harder for a moment, before pulling you close. his heartbeat rests at your temple. red pain / bruised song. and what is pain, if not a held hand? you clench your fists tighter; he starts to rock you.

( our father who art in my arms. )

his brother sees you, in a way you care little for. with an axe in hand, cutting wood from a sap-soaked tree. there, he says, you blacken the green language of earth. the forest rejects you, like sacred ground burns a sinner’s skin. oh, how ungodly the land makes you. how the father chooses his brother –– toothed shears fray the string you linked to both of your wrists –– who wouldn’t miss him. who wouldn’t flower his grave, more than a week after his death. unloved and unloving. born of the same ilk, and he casts you away all the same.

his blood paints the flowing waters, along with trickles from your clutched abdomen and scarred brow bone. you allow it to leak, to touch his dead lips somewhere along the river’s trail. in the afterlife, he will drink wine in remembrance of you. a parting gift from daughter to father. he will not return to dust, but to the empty fish stomachs that once bore a hunger called our own.

#westworldintro #death mention //#body horror //#emotional abuse mention //#kinda?#unhealthy parental relationship basically #my father is the worst man & i am his favourite daughter vibes #if there are mistakes no there are not 💕

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vi0lens · 5 months

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* ◟ : 〔 nattawin wattanagitiphat , cis man + he / him 〕 WITTAYA ‘ WIT ’ NATHARUETAI , some say you’re a THIRTY 2 YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both LOYAL and GULLIBLE, one can’t help but think of HARD SOMETIMES by RUEL when you walk by. are you still an UNDERGROUND FIGHTER at RALPH’S BOXING GYM, even with your reputation as the DISHONORED? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and CREASED WHITE BUTTON DOWNS WITH RIPS IN THE SEAMS, LEAVING NO SKIN UNBRUISED, THE THING HOLDING YOU UNDERWATER UNTIL YOU BEG, although we can’t help but think of FRANK CASTLE, SIMON RILEY, TYLER DURDEN whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

FULL NAME wittaya natharuetai.

NICKNAME(S) wit, taya.

AGE thirty2.

GENDER cis man.

PRONOUNS he/him.

SEXUALITY bisexual, kinsey scale 3.

BIRTHPLACE bangkok, thailand.

RESIDENCE apartment in east village.

OCCUPATION fighter at ralph's.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS divorced.

EDUCATION high school diploma.

FAMILY henrik peerenboom , adoptive father. chimlin yongwaree , mother. aranya natharuetai , younger sister. tbd , older brother.

SKILLS expert in mixed martial arts and boxing, trained in taekwondo, gunmanship, and military strategy. skilled in hostage negotiation and computer literacy.

LANGUAGES thai , first language. english , second language. german , spoken with adoptive father.

POSITIVES loyal, charismatic, honorable, determined, empathetic.

NEGATIVES short - tempered, curt, self - destructive, avoidant, stubborn.

HEIGHT 5′11.

ENNEAGRAM type 8 , the individualist.

MBTI isfj , the defender.

&. backstory. tw: death, alcohol abuse , mentioned violence

the first year of his childhood happened in thailand. he and his elder brother were born during the asian financial crisis, which epitomized their mother's stress. she made the difficult decision to go to america with her new husband, henrik. henrik loved her boys, more than anyone could ask for. he renamed them, taught them german, and when they had a third child, a girl, he didn't treat them any differently.

wit loved his siblings more than in the world. he and his elder brother bonded over their time in thailand, and their experiences immigrating. his elder brother told him stories of things he didn't quite remember. and wit adored their half-sister, aranya. he peeled her fruit for her, and he kept her safe. wit was very heavily affected by expectations. being quite a gifted child, everyone was always saying how far he would go, so he shouldered it. he shouldered everything.

upon graduation, wit went straight into the army. he wasn't a fan of senseless violence, but had a dream of a good, honorable soldier that he could never escape. his morals threatened to strangle him. his ideals were throwing him out the window.

he was a good soldier. it was only a few years before he was given his own command, and was stationed overseas to protect a smaller country from common enemies. with a stroke of luck, his experience was mostly saving lives.

when wit turned twenty - one, he met an english journalist named katherine hansen at a bar. he was enamored with her, with her ideas for articles, with her bravery in her reporting. a year later, they were married.

his sister died when he was off - duty. he was twenty - four, and in new york to see their parents. his mother's phone rang, but wit answered it. wit made it his job to watch his sister, so it only made sense that he'd be the one to identify her corpse.

it all fell down. he didn't believe their story immediately. sure, the body looked like aranya. but he would feel it, wouldn't he? he would know it in his bones that she was dead. katherine attempted to calm him, to convince him it was the grief talking, but wit marched right up to aranya's office and tore the place apart.

in return, it only took a few weeks for aranya's employers to ruin his life. he didn't know then, of course, that it was them who discharged him. who disqualified him from benefits. who set the ball rolling.

the discharge hit him hard. he started drinking, and wouldn't sleep. katherine knew she didn't have to put up with it. she left him the card for a therapist, and went to stay with her parents. wit responded with divorce papers.

wit didn't start fighting until he ran out of cash for whiskey. but when he did, it kind of helped. he had to stay sober for fights, and getting a few good hits in grounded him. the problem was that he got good. so good he's not sure they'd left him quite if he wanted to. a bet on wit is a sure one.

#ノ * ⭒ introduction ， wit.

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bbshyperfixation · 1 year

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after she gets out of prison, soo-jin comes and lives with sun and kwon-ho. at first, it's slow, quiet. sun is busy getting her company back in order and rebuilding old (and new) relationships with other companies

kwon-ho is still on desk duty, but training so he can be back in the field soon. soo-jin spends her days painting and taking jindo for a walk. her days are unstructured, limitless. she tries to get settled in, spends a lot of time in the sun, but she can't shake the fear.

one day, she asks sun to train her. they're on the roof, sun demonstrating the correct way to make a fist to protect your hand and where to place your hands for maximum damage if an attacker approaches you. she asks if its ok if kwon-ho joins them to be the example

soo-jin hesitates, but eventually nods. sun takes her at her word. that's important- people taking soo-jin at her word. just as important as it is for soo-jin to learn to say what she really wants or needs. if she's uncomfortable with this, she needs to learn to say it.

kwon-ho comes out smiling, making not-so-scary attacking noises, although jindo is fooled, making a small rumbling noise in the back of her throat. that makes them all laugh. it becomes their routine in the mornings before they all go their separate ways for the day.

it's making a difference for soo-jin, they can all tell. she's getting back into hobbies she had as a girl. when she plays the cello, all of them stop and listen. riley, of course, paying special attention, but wolfgang too, surprisingly, closing his eyes and swaying with it

one day sun comes home from a hard day at work and soo-jin and kwon-ho are sitting on the couch watching a movie, sharing a blanket, bowl of popcorn between them. kwon-ho pulls her down on his lap, and she lets herself be pulled, not caring if the bowl of popcorn goes everywhere

she deadpans. 'let me up, i need to go get changed' 'no, stay' she hears behind her, soo-jin looking down at the bowl of popcorn she'd pulled into her lap. and how can she disobey the quietly-voiced desire of her first real friend?

she slides between them on the couch and adjusts the blanket around herself, grabbing a handful of popcorn. when she wakes up, hours later, tv casting silent colors over her face, her head is in soo-jin's lap and her feet are in kwon-ho's.

soo-jin's hand is still resting on sun's head, where she'd been running it softly through sun's hair. she watches as soo-jin's head slips further back onto the couch, snoring softly in this awkward position.

she feels the desire. capheus, nomi, will, wolfgang's desires, but also her own. she recalls pretty girls with unbruised hands and skirts that wouldn't get in their way and how she hadn't known if she wanted to be them or be with them.

she feels riley's appreciation of soo-jin's music, and lito's appreciation of her art, and kala's appreciation of her quiet steadiness and kindness. and all those things were her own, too.

she'll have to talk about this with kwon-ho. he knows how it is with them. jealousy doesn't make sense, /can't/ make sense, and he gets it. he gets that sun loves dozens of people in myriad ways, and she's choosing to love him, too.

but still, this is different. sun's not sure how to handle it. and then kala is there, telling her 'i get it, i know. its communication and honesty' sun nods and kala is gone with a smile. soo-jin stirs above her. 'hey, should we go up to our beds?' sun whispers

#sense8 #sun bak #detective mun #kwan-ho mun #soo-jin #sigh #i miss them #i cross posted this on twitter #but i really feel like tumblr is the place where this belongs

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raybyanothername · 8 months

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It has been brought to my attention that The Secret On His Arm is now the longest Jace/Aegon focused fic on Ao3 apparently. (The only two longer focus more on Lucemond.)

I don't know what to do with this information.

Live Footage of me processing:

Also a pretty good representation of Rhaenyra in Chapter 62. ^^'

As is my tradition, we shall use this an excuse for a sneak peak!

Forcing a laugh, Aegon looked back up, "Did I say anything embarrassing in my sleep?" Ser Arryk's lips twitched and his gaze flickered towards the door. "Oh?" Aegon arched a brow.

"You were quiet, your grace," Ser Arryk smirked, eyes shimmering with amusement as he gave Aegon a pointed look, "Prince Jacaerys was not, when he came looking for you a few minutes ago."

Cheeks flushing, Aegon glanced down at himself. He was, arguably, dressed. Shirt. Breeches. But both his nephews had taken hold of his shirt in their sleep, drawing the gap in the fabric wider. Aegon's chest was quite visible, the unbruised side especially.

It was improper, for sure, but very few people ever expected Aegon to be proper. Mostly just his grandfather.

"He left quite abruptly too," Ser Arryk drawled, straightening slightly as he avoided Aegon's sharp look.

"Stay with my nephews," Aegon ordered as he rose from the bed, disentangling himself carefully. Ser Arryk frowned, but gave a clipped nod as Aegon stumbled towards the door.

#ray rambles #house of the dragon #fanfiction #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen/jacaerys velaryon #the secret on his arm

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ltcolonelcarter · 1 year

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First Sentences - Fic Author Tag Game

Tagged by @kotaloy ✨ (I’m blowing you kisses)

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

okaaaay so I have five published fics at present, but live sprinkled in some 😏 wip goodness for a lil ✨flavour✨

1. a question of time:

Connor opened his eyes.

2. echoes and reflections:

Christmas lights swayed between tree branches, their light warm white and soft, broken by occasional flakes of snow winding their way to the ground.

3. let him hear:

Someone has draped the room in lively colours, bands of red and blue and an off-yellow that almost passes for gold; string lights dangle from the ceiling, set to twinkle, their warm glow deepening the shadows and lending the room a soft ambience.

4. last call:

Connor’s heard you say so a hundred times before: Friday nights are not your favourite.

5. unbruised:

Bright, spinning lights dance across your vision, blurred by the swaying branches of trees and the tears in your eyes.

6. untitled wip (👀):

Light filters through the blinds, weak and desaturated, helped not at all by the dull windows at the end of the room.

tagging everyone I can remember, and anyone else who fancies it: @blurredout10 @shinyportalsandthings @chaos-thirium @pseudonymmcwriter @dattebae @leelany-world @staticl0ve @advictoriams ✨✨✨✨ if you pick this up and I haven’t tagged you, you’re honour bound to tag me so I can read 😏

#playin’ tag #fic stuff #writing stuff #I love these. I should….. write more fics though.

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h-a-unted · 2 months

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I bruise really easily, so I'm going to project that over to Billy and Lenny. When they were children, they'd bruise a lot because of their parent's abuse – something their dad would deem a sign of weakness. Billy would come to consider it weakness as well, doing everything in his power to hide or prevent them when he left home. When he lived with his parents, he'd work tirelessly to hide Lenny's, but it never truly worked out.

Maeve, on the other hand, doesn't bruise easily at all. She can be in many brawls at a time and remain unbruised. She punches a lot, too, but her knuckles usually remain as normal. If you manage to bruise her, you've done tons of damage, if her knuckles are bruised, you're either very strong (probably a Supe) or she punched real hard.

Frenchie bruises normally, he's surprisingly one to avoid much physical conflict, preventing him from being bruised a lot in general.

#;; the choleric slaughterer ;; (billy but.cher)#;; the slaughterer's handler ;; (lenny but.cher)#;; the disillusioned empress ;; (queen mae.ve)#;; the expendable weapon ;; (fren.chie)#this is a headcanon ♡#This was floating in my drafts a while #Had to send it now because a certain scenario for but.cher came up in my head and I need to talk about it

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jovialtorchlight · 2 years

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letter to a dead brother

summer, 2008. skateboarding in a park,

camera in hands, shaking, filming brendan as he tries to ollie. you, in the infancy of your

hopes and dreams when the world was still a path open, limits unknowable.

tomorrow, maybe you would film gabe jumping in the pool from the roof,

or maybe you would film brendan finally landing the kickflip, or maybe in the later afternoon

as that summer-sun set low in the sky and the endless day slowly plodded towards the inevitable setting of the sun

you would walk down to the beach with your friends and hear the waves lap up and make fun of the

swarms of tourists in speedos and try to race home before your parents noticed you were late for dinner, and after dinner gabe could come over and play DND.

Maybe you could cannonball into the pool, the sticky hot humidity still permeating through the early darkness, and let the chlorine set into your shaggy brown hair and maybe your dad would come out and

yell at you for being too loud and maybe you would say goodbye to gabe and maybe you would go to sleep, no idea that the

time, every second, marched towards the pinpoint, a date carved into the near future where life diverged from you and your skin would be ripped open by a knife and

when the blood would spill in the hallway between your room and the dining room, in the place you felt safest a terrible secret only time would know, but you would not know that death was etched so

close to you and you were not far at all,

but would that knowledge have changed the endless summer afternoon? Would time have slowed and stopped and merged into panic as the heat pounded on the tarred driveway and the dry sticks of the grass poked

in your shirtless back and the song of cicadas sang loud and foretelling? No, there was no panic. Only a 13 year old boy with his friends, in summer, living.

And you could not know until he killed you, that your murder was so unfair, so horribly absolute, violence fell upon you, the weight of blade

slicing bodies tearing skin and spilling blood, and I guess it is better that did not know that the last moment was the truly the last moment until

the life finally drained from you.

Time cursed you, sure, but knowledge did not. Not in the dying. But in the emptiness that was left behind; every path suddenly rendered useless, every potential suddenly gone,

limits suddenly narrowed to a single sentence; "Josh is dead."

No room to make mistakes, no room to grow-up, no place in this trajectory for you to be anything at all except a memory, and when that well runs dry, where will you go?

I will keep the torch lit through every watch. I will remain your sentry.

And now I walk this cursed place, searching for you always.

Every bump at night, every pattern noticed is a sign of your presence.

I am not the one who is dead, but I commune with you as I write this, as I type these words I ask 'where are you? do you need help?"

and you say in a dream that you are not at peace and that you are still a slave to time, stuck behind closed doors, and all of the paths and branches that were decapitated with your death.

And we stick to each other like a curse. I itch with the memories of you alive, my soul gnaws at where you have gone, and I pound with terror when

I come to face with anything resembling the way you died.

Your spirit is made alive with anger at what you will never be, and as I commune I feel that anger, that

righteous hatred of violence, that righteous thrashing against the injustice of your death and I take it and it metastasizes the itch into a hunger and transforms the hunger into an untouchable pain, so deep that I could never reach it, a bruise at the core of myself that festers and becomes infected.

And now that we see each other, now that we know what is not and never will be, now that we can share ourselves, can we walk towards some peace? Can we move from the burning potential, the wasteland

of your death and move towards a future unbruised and full?

Dead brother, will you walk with me into the fire and emerge cleansed?

#blazed posts #jonny bolduc #original prose #jovialtorchlight

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english-professor-wraith · 2 years

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Fictober 2022: Day 3

(Sorry for the delay y'all, couldnt manage the motivation or inspiration to write yesterday.)

Your eyes flicker open to see a wooden wall in front of you, barely lit by the embers of the fire you had built last night. As you shift in the bed you’re lying in, you can feel warm arms wrapped tightly around your midsection and a head leaned against your back. Chuckling quietly enough not to wake him, you wrap your arms around where Caleb’s hold you. Leaning your head back a bit, you listen to his quiet breathing as you halfway drift back to sleep. The warmth beneath the blankets is comforting against the brisk air that tickles your nose a little bit as you breathe deeply.

You lay there in peace for a little while longer- Caleb would be able to tell you exactly, were he awake- until a crash shatters the silence, and immediately the air is filled with curses- a mix of the party’s voices echoing through the wall. With the crash, you had felt Caleb stiffen behind you, the abrupt awakening sending him into a panic response as his arms tighten uncomfortably around your stomach. You let out a soft grunt- more out of surprise than pain- and gently tap his forearm to bring his attention to you.

“Caleb, darling- it’s okay, probably just Fjord breaking a bowl or something.”

You can feel his stilted breath begin to calm against your back as his rational mind begins to awaken, and his arms let go of you entirely as he shifts to the edge of the bed to stand. You turn over on the mattress to watch him as he begins to dress for the day, then murmur just loud enough for him to hear.

“You didn’t have to go anywhere, you know- I was rather enjoying feeling like your teddy bear, even when that means a little extra squeeze now and again.”

“I hurt you. That was not my intention, and I do not wish to repeat that occurrence.”

“Hurt? No, Caleb, I was just startled. I’m just fine, see?”

As you say this, you sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to let them dangle. Pulling up your loose sleep shirt (stolen from him weeks ago) and stretching your arms out to show your distinctly unbruised abdomen, you watch his reaction. He sighs in relief to see your undamaged skin, then looks away quickly with a blush. Beginning to pull on his book harness, he quietly responds.

“I am…very glad to see you are in good health, liebling.”

“Am I ever not?”, you joke back, but sober quickly as he freezes mid-buckle. You stand and move towards him, stepping around in front of him to take his face in your hands. As you do, you can see something in his eyes, though it fades too quickly for you to identify it. Hardly loud enough for you to hear, he replies in earnest to your jest.

“Yes. I can’t lose you, seelenpartner- I couldn’t live with that.” with this, his eyes drop from yours and he pulls on the buckles of his harness again. Tapping your fingers gently against his cheek, you lean just a fraction closer until his eyes flick down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. Every morning, every evening, I’m here with you, okay? Right here.” With that, you drop your hands from his face to his chest, tapping where his heart beats beneath the skin. As the heartbeat beneath your fingers quickens, you quickly finish buckling his straps, then pull against one to bring him the final fraction closer, resting your lips against his as your eyes drift shut. His hands come to rest on your waist, holding you possessively as he deepens the kiss.

Though you could spend the rest of the day happy here with him, you are both suddenly reminded of the time by Jester almost breaking the door open with her knocks, and you swiftly pull on your day clothes and gather your things as Caleb goes to divert the energetic tiefling, a soft smile shot your way before he cracks open the door to talk to her.

#fictober2022 #critfictober #critical role c2 #caleb x reader #caleb widogast #fanfiction #soft #I really shouldn't write such cute stuff when I'm still aggressively ingle but here we are.#wraith's fics

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