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adyophene · 26 days

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lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

#not art #this is long #like really long #like don't open it unless you want 25 paragraphs about a crackship that like 12 people ship #royalflush #lucihusk

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kindestegg · 1 year

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The plush under Collector's bed: A totally necessary analysis, trust me

So, as a recap of this scene, before King leaves to visit Eda and Lilith, Collector asks King if he could sleep with François that night.

King reminds Collector that only himself and Luz can hold François, and Collector obliges but asks that he at least leave François there to "watch over him", claiming he "doesn't like being alone".

King does so, and Collector seems satisfied. It's very telling of Collector's development that they never touch François after this interaction, showing respect for King's boundaries.

... Except! This sweet little angel is actually a master trickster! A liar and a fiend!

He had a plush under his bed the whole time!!! In fact I'm pretty sure every shot of their little bedroom planet has the underside of Collector's bed obscured UNTIL King starts to leave and we pan to see the beds from an angle which reveals the plush!

You know what this means, right? Collector could have easily pulled his plush from under his bed and cuddled up with that if he hated sleeping alone so much, but he didn't. Why?

Well, I don't think he was lying about being lonely. Loneliness seems to be a prominent common theme for Collector, both declaring his loneliness back at the start of O' Titan, during a vulnerable moment where he didn't expect anyone to hear him, so he'd have no reason to lie there...

And then also having this acknowledged by King in the current episode, who has been living with him for about two months now, so he would know Collector's state of mind better than most here.

So... what gives? Was Collector really only out to force King to give François to him? Why?

Well, my current theory about this is what François means in this scenario: a connection to King. We know François is very important to King and King does not hide this when he expresses to Collector how he won't let them hold him.

To Collector, being able to sleep with François is the ultimate foolproof way to ensure King won't leave them. First, if King eventually lets them hold him, it signifies King would trust them enough with this and hold them to a regard as high as Luz, which we know Collector seems to be jealous of. I... just realized I should probably analyze that too, huh. Well, all in its due time.

And second, even if King won't allow them to hold François, but leaves them close to Collector in their room, that already acts as a guarantee. A guarantee that King will come back for François eventually, that King won't leave them to sleep alone the entire night.

Whatever the case, François is a symbol, a meter to test their closeness for Collector and King, and considering how many times Collector has lost people they considered friends before (whether those were real friends - in the case of the titan babies - or not - in the other collectors and Belos' case -) and have been double crossed by Belos, it's no wonder they have trust issues and want to make sure King does care about keeping them company.

So... that's it, then? He probably threw his original plush under the bed and then lied to King he lost it and is now constantly trying to get King to let him either hold François or at least keep him close to him as a connection between him and King?

Well... yeah, but if you'd allow me, I'd also like to talk a little on the symbology of the plush here. You see, while we can't make out the full of what the plush looks like, it appears to be some sort of canine with pointed ears and a poofy tail. Maybe it could be a titan, even a plush replica of King, but... I don't think so. There seems to be no stitching around the neck to signify it has a skull like titans do.

See, I think this is a fox plush. And why it is important in a metatextual sense that it is a fox requires a look into lots of different possibilities, each enriching the narrative in a different way.

For one, in popular folklore, foxes are seen as tricksters, lying and cheating their way into what's most convenient for them. Villain or hero, the fox is always winning people over through tricks.

This would align with the very nature of the plush being thrown under Collector's bed: it calls back to the fact he's tricking King with this. And yes, while Collector does have his problem with "fibbers", I don't think he's above more harmless tricks, we've seen him joke around with King before, purposefully feigning ignorance to mess with him, and the very nature of how he splattered Belos was through him lying that he wasn't mad. He may dislike it when a major lie is told, but little lies and sarcasm are no stranger to him.

Another possible connotation is the fact that rabbits and foxes are naturally prey and predator. François is a rabbit, Collector's plush is a fox. King, the member of the species that was hunted by the collectors, holds the prey animal, while Collector holds the predator animal...

The position of the plushes is also important here if we go with this interpretation: François is on top of King's bed, indicating he does not conceal he is the prey here and is well aware of this. He says so as much: "this whole time I was scared of making him mad". In general he behaves like a scared animal around Collector, despite their efforts to put them in equal grounds and the fact they have spent so long together and made considerable progress in their friendship.

Collector's fox on the other hand is under their bed, signifying Collector has concealed their fox, or maybe more appropriately, buried and left the fox behind. They may be part of the species that wiped out all the titans, the predators that so mercilessly hunted King's species as prey, but they want no part in this. Their backstory seems to involve wanting to play with titans and denouncing the other collectors after all, likely being bitter at them for ruining everything and hunting their new playmates to near extinction.

Alternative readings also include a few possible pop culture references. A possible one is the prominent role of the Fox in the Little Prince. While Hunter is the one who has been nicknamed "little prince" by Darius, Collector still seems more thematically similar to the character, being a child who came from space:

The similarity also hands itself to the fact King does somewhat resemble a fox with his canine qualities and fluffy tail, and in the story, the Fox was one of the first friends the Little Prince makes on Earth, and the one to teach him how to approach someone who does not trust you yet, to "tame" them.

Yet another possible reference this could be is the Disney movie "The Fox and the Hound":

Which seems like something I should frankly make a whole separate post comparing the eerie similarities it harbors to the current dynamic Collector and King hold. But to summarize, if you don't know the movie, it follows a hunting dog pup and a fox pup that become friends at a young age, and their friendship must overcome advertisities unique to their species.

If this is a reference to this particular movie, this once again has a different reading: Collector is clearly the hunting dog here, not the fox. For him to keep a fox under his bed would signify he wants to keep King close to him, safe under his bed and protected. This could even be a call back to the very last scene the titular fox and hound in the movie share: Copper, the hound, positions himself above the fallen Todd, the fox, protecting him. The plush being under the bed to mirror this would make sense.

Whew! I think that's everything that I had in mind to comment on this particular tiny easter egg. Whatever meaning you take from this about Collector's mysterious plush, I hope I could at least inspire something in you!

#the owl house #the collector #toh collector #king clawthorne #toh theory #toh analysis #toh spoilers #Commander's orders

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ell-alexanderarnold · 3 months

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Spinning

Summary: Trent meets Y/n when she’s at her lowest and helps her to find herself again until she falls unrequitedly in love.

Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Reader has mental health issues

Note: I listened to this song while I was writing this ❤️‍🩹 + If you’re feeling alone or something like that, remember that you’re loved and you’re not alone in what you’re battling with 🫶🏻

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

It was just a normal day for Trent but for you it was more. You fell in love, with a guy who didn’t even want you. He just wanted to be loved. And so did you, more than ever. Turns out in the end that you were just a distraction, a person who he could lash out his feelings to, like it was nothing.

Whatever you thought you and Trent had, wasn’t love. It wasn’t real.

The day Y/n and Trent met

It was raining outside, it was cold as well. Trent hated the cold and wished he stayed home this day. Y/n on the other hand liked the cold but not the rain.

It was a real challenge for Y/n to get up from the bed this day. She just wanted to lay there all day, she liked the loneliness but still felt miserable.

Y/n got out of the bed and went on a walk outside, eyes still red and puffy from crying. The rain fell down on her and she wished she stayed at home. Y/n couldn’t help but cry, everything in her life felt meaningless at the moment.

She kept her head down as she walked and suddenly she dropped her phone, and figured she’d walked into someone. How embarrassing.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Y/n apologised and the person handed her the phone.

“No worries!” He said and as you looked at him he noticed your red puffy eyes.

“Crazy whether today huh?” Y/n remarked and looked him in the eyes. They were brown and very pretty.

“Yeah, right.” He answered.

“What’s your name?” He added.

“Y/n, I live down the street.” You replied and the stranger shake his hand and said

“I’m Trent.”

You looked up to see that it stopped raining, and that’s how the story started.

Once you met Trent everything in your life stopped raining. Or so you thought.

From that day Trent could tell from your eyes that you’ve been crying. He wanted to know what was wrong and he didn’t even know you.

Months went by and you met Trent met each other on walks now and then, one thing lead to another and you were asked on a date.

You were nervous and overwhelmed, you couldn’t believe that this could happen to someone like you. You somehow felt special for the first time in a long time. Because Trent cared about you.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He expressed after you just ranted out all of your thoughts and feelings about your life. You were overthinking if you maybe shared too much, but you trusted him.

“It’s okay.” You answered and forced him a smile.

“How?” You implored.

“I think we’re alike in someways you know?” Trent observed, both of you chuckled.

“I mean I relate to that stuff with loneliness, you just want to be wanted. But I like being alone but not for too long.” He spoke up and you nodded in response.

“For a long time I’ve felt like there was no point in telling anyone what was happening inside of me.” You revealed and as you spoke Trent took your hand and draw small circles on your palm. He could see your eyes well up and wanted nothing more for you thank to be safe and okay.

“Y/n, listen to me. You are enough, okay? Don’t think that no one wants to listen to you, I do. I’ll be here for as long as you want.” Trent said softly as you dried your tears on your cheek.

You didn’t expect to cry on your first date, but it was something pure about the whole situation. You and Trent, two broken hearts are just beginning your “love story”.

4 months later

You’ve grown to love him and yourself.

You walked around in his house in his shirt that smells like him knowing that the smell of his perfume will soon fade, like his feelings for you.

You don’t know what’s going on anymore. You’re not in a relationship but you’re still here, in his house. Were you two just close friends? Who made love on the weekends, kissed each other whilst watching a movie one of you just put on to ignore the silence?

After months of being honest with each other you two couldn’t ignore the reality anymore. Deep down you knew you weren’t feeling better mentally, it was just Trent who made your days brighter and took your torment away.

For him you helped him feel at ease. He loved how he could tell you about things that happened in a match, he would be so angry and frustrated. But you were there for him. The greatest distraction he’s ever had. To you, he was the greatest thing you’ve ever had.

Then there was this silence.

“I don’t think I can go on like this any longer Trent.” You firmly said and looked at him, watching him close his eyes in frustration.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.” He mumbled.

“Like what?” You challenged.

“Like you could love me.” Trent angrily told you and you were shocked by his words.

“Don’t say that.” You sulked.

“Well, we can’t be together and we can’t be apart so I don’t know what to do Y/n.” He shrugged and sighed.

“It doesn’t matter anymore Trent!” You blustered and tears started flowing down your cheeks.

“The night you told me you love me,” You said laughed in disbelief. “I fucking believed you.”

Trent felt speechless. Perhaps he went too far with leading you on, thinking he loved you but the more he thought about it he just wanted to feel loved. He didn’t want to love.

“Well, then I’m sorry Trent that I loved you and it made you cruel.” You cried and began to walk towards the door before he stopped you.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” Trent murmured but you didn’t listen.

“I should’ve never told you how I felt that night at the restaurant.” You said quietly as you were ready to leave him.

“Y/n, please.” He sighed.

“It was a long time ago anyways, it doesn’t matter anymore and yet I cannot let it go Trent.” You taunted and stood by the door, waiting for this daydream to end.

“Before you go,” He hesitated. “Don’t walk past me like a stranger next time I see you, please.He finished.

You laughed in response, I mean how were you supposed to live without him when you started living again because of him. Why didn’t he love you like you love him?

“Wasn’t it nice? To feel wanted even if it was just for a while?” Trent questioned, bringing up the feeling you felt before meeting him - to feel wanted.

“It wasn’t real Trent.” You said into the silence.

“But yes, it was nice.” You sniffled and looked down at the floor.

You stepped outside, it started raining once you started walking. Now everything was raining again, you lost him. He was the one you loved, the only one.

It pains you that he saved you but he never knew and he’ll never will.

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold fanfic #england x reader #footballer x reader #trent x reader #trent imagine #taa x reader #football imagine

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

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desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 4,752 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, swearing, loneliness, mentions of drugs and crime, mentions of imprisonment, family issues, feeling unwanted, slight bullying, anxiety, nightmares, insomnia, depression, loss and grief, mentions of spit, super brief mention of alcohol and vomit, very brief mentions of breakups and inappropriate sexual relations (nothing reader or eddie are apart of). i think that’s it!

a/n: this is my first attempt at a slow burn series so i hope it’s good! i’m also trying a new setup with photos instead of gifs ^ i’ve seen a lot of other people do it and i think it looks really cool so! also creds to who owns and posted these photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

Eddie Munson had grown bitter since you last saw him. To be fair, the last time you saw him was when you were kids but still. You always knew him to be boisterous. Adventurer Eddie. Eddie with the weird ideas and cool drawings. Eddie who made you laugh until your stomach cramped and you would cry out that he was going to make you wet yourself.

You didn’t know it as a kid but even then he couldn’t catch a break from the world around him, and apparently it never stopped spiraling even when it beat him into a hollow shell covered in grease during the weekdays and alcohol—and occasionally vomit—on the weekends. He was worn down by his own worries that never seemed to cease and miserable stories of others admitting things they should’ve never said aloud. Sometimes the stories were fun or at least amusing, but mostly just depressing. This was Hawkins after all.

This wasn’t an Eddie you knew. Had someone told you that man in the garage wasn’t him, you simply would’ve nodded and kept going on your journey to find him.

But it was him, and you were positive he was meant to be back in your life. No matter how much it was hurting right now.

You didn’t know why he left at first. It was as if he ceased to exist, and sometimes—when you were all alone at night—you wondered if he had been a ghost. If he had been an imaginary friend, but surely not? He had his own home you hung out in. His own dad who let you guys eat too much junk food and stay up too late. He looked and sounded real when he would scarf down several bowls of honeycomb cereal with those slurping noises you always hated and would whine at him over. He felt real when you would play wrestle—and unfortunately very real when he won and would pin you down while slowly letting a string of saliva stretch down towards your face in an empty threat. He never really did it, but it was gross all the same, and when he’d let up you’d punch his arm as hard as you could.

One day, you asked if your parents remembered him and your father scoffed at the question while he stared at the newspaper, but at least he acknowledged you at all. Meanwhile your mother had all her focus on putting her earrings in and checking her makeup in the small mirror on a wall surrounded by family photos. Those framed pictures felt emptier than the looming threat of Eddie’s spit touching your face.

“Well his father’s a bottom feeder stuck in prison,” your dad flicked his paper to straighten it out again from where it had begun to bow backwards. “And his kid is probably no better. You’ll make other friends.”

You never understood why he was so cold about the loss of your only friend. You’ll make other friends. Yeah right. No one liked you. Everyone made fun of the way you sat idly on swings just to kick on occasion as you focused more on the book in your hands, or the way you’d squat down and give all your attention to a bug in front of you. Either a line of ants that you regarded with pure intrigue because you wondered how they always filed so neatly and did their best to stay together. Sometimes you left crumbs by them just to see if you could watch them pick them up. You’d watch snails and show them the attentiveness and respect you felt they deserved as they slowly trudged along—so determined, you thought. You’d watch butterflies and try to keep track of all the different kinds you saw. A lot of them were small and fluttery with those buttery white wings, but sometimes you saw a monarch and your eyes would grow large with excitement.

You cried when Zachary McKay would stomp on the anthills or teased you about how the French ate snails—something his dad would say was just more proof of how odd Europeans are. They were one of those arrogant “We love our Country!” households with an “I can do whatever I want—America is the land of the free” ideology and it showed in their unbridled and privileged ass of a child. You didn’t inform him that one Spring of the wasp nest that formed on the underside of the slide he frequented. Maybe it was mean, but you were content in silence over on your swing when you heard him crying out in pain one day. He developed a crush on you in high school that dramatically contrasted how he treated you in grade school—and even tried to make a move at Maddi Ecker’s 17th birthday party—but you could only think of the ants and the snails. You turned him down and he was horrible to you again.

You eventually did make some friends, other odds and ends throughout your school, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Eddie. Maybe it was childish and stubborn, but you could feel it deep in your gut that he was one of a kind. So you couldn’t let him go. All those years you ached for your friend who you considered lost. He always came up with wild stories and (when you were still relatively young) you imagined he had become a pirate and was lost at sea. Or became a gunslinger in the Wild West and didn’t draw fast enough. Maybe he went to slay dragons and wound up a burnt crisp of a human. That last one made you cringe the most, but he probably would’ve liked it the most. He loved mythical creatures the way you adored real creatures. By high school you weren’t as naive. You heard about his dad—caught with multiple charges of grand theft auto, a hit-and-run in one of said stolen cars, and dealing drugs. The hard shit. Not weed or shrooms. But the kind of stuff that really ruins lives.

You always thought Eddie had a good home. His dad didn’t hate him the way you were sure your parents hated you, and he had a nice house. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but they really didn’t need anything beyond a one story and a sizable basement with only two of them. In hindsight, you supposed he couldn’t find a home in that childhood house anymore than you could with yours. Yours lacked love. His lacked a reliable source of income.

Over time you heard about the night with all the sirens and social workers. The night he turned into a spirit that had finally moved on—an imaginary friend that your growing mind ceased to conjure. He lived with his uncle over in Indiana, rather than your small town in Ohio. Even in your mid twenties, he flashed in your mind like a small blip on occasion and it still twisted your stomach.

You thought of asking if you should go to him whenever you remembered, but you thought you needed a sign. What if you showed up too early? And you messed up any possible grand plans? So you avoided indulging in questions about him to your tarot cards or over your pendulum map. On occasion you caved and just asked a simple question: is he safe? It was a yes every time you broke and just had to check up on him, and the answer reassured you for long enough until the next time the concern rose up to unbearable levels.

But then you started getting those dreams. Sometimes they were just memories playing from deep within the archives of your mind. Sometimes they were nightmares of yelling at someone to go away, only to realize it was Eddie far too late—and when you wanted to run after him to correct the mistake, you couldn’t move as quickly as you knew you were capable of.

It went on for about a month before you finally broke. Your eyes had snapped open, accidentally waking yourself in the middle of saying what you had been shouting to Dream Eddie out loud into your pitch black room. You glanced at the time. 11:11 PM. You felt your heart skip a beat before you shoved yourself out of bed. You had to take a moment to steady yourself against your bedpost from the sudden movement making you dizzy, but then you were flicking on the light and digging through your belongings. You didn’t even give yourself a chance to wipe away at the thin sheen of sweat over your skin from August heat mixed with a cheap fan that really didn’t make that much of a difference, and the stress from the events that had played deep in your mind while you slept.

With a shaky breath, you smoothed out your map on the floor where you were squatting, and steadily held your pendulum over the center. Does he need me? You finally asked and watched as the chain connected to a sphere of rose quartz slowly began to circle. It sped up and then began to dart in different directions before finally swinging back and forth between both of the “YES''s on the piece of cloth.

It took a little over a month to arrange your departure from your life in small town Ohio—not that small town Indiana was really all that different. You had briefly been back at your childhood house after your lease came to an end for the apartment you shared with a friend (who didn’t want to renew because she wanted to move in with her boyfriend, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the card spread you had laid out all pointed towards a breakup). All of this to say you didn’t have a lease or mortgage to tie you down. You certainly didn’t have a boyfriend (you haven’t had one since college), and you didn’t even like your job at the local mart so it was easy to give your two weeks. Your parents were just as sick of your presence now as when you were a child, and were willing to help you in every way possible to get you to just leave again. Had you not been so focused on your end goal, you might’ve taken a beat to really feel the hurt that always came with parents who only came to your aid when it meant keeping you at arm's length. But you couldn’t focus on it and really (for the sake of your mental health) you shouldn’t focus on it. All of your energy went towards Eddie who seemed so far, even if he was supposedly just a few hours and a state line away.

You didn’t have a place yet, which was a mistake on your part for rushing, but you could stay in a motel for the time being. The prices were pretty low anyways and the owner seemed pleasantly surprised by the sudden source of money and company. The lot belonged to her husband who had passed a few years back, so now it was only her running the place. Her daughter helped sometimes, but she had another job to focus on—only coming to help when the older woman was ill. So even though she appeared kind of grumpy at first, she really softened up to you when you wound up padding out of your room the first night and asked if she wanted to play Go Fish. You had been feeling antsy and lonely, and you were right to assume she felt lonely too.

Over the past week or so, you found a friend in that creaking, groaning motel. You did have a bit of a tendency to befriend the adults around you more often than kids your age when you were younger and it still happened now, apparently. A shrink at university pointed out once that it had to do with the lack of guardianship and guidance growing up. That you were trying to replace something that had always been missing, but you didn’t go back to him after a couple sessions. You didn’t like how patronizing he was, telling you things you already knew. And when you asked your dowsing rods if he was sleeping with any of his clients, the two pieces in your fists whipped open in a blatant “Yes!” But he wasn’t around now to make you feel low with his supercilious commentary and his notes that he always scratched down right in front of you. Your parents weren’t around to remind you of how utterly unlovable you can be. It was just you, Martha at Hawkins’ Blue Bird Inn, and hopefully a pleasant reunion on the horizon.

Today was the day to finally see Eddie, and Martha urged some confidence into you this morning before sending you on your way with the directions to the garage. No matter how many times you clarified he was just your childhood best friend, she got that sly look about her that always showed when an adult was all amused about the novice in front of them being openly or involuntarily blind to love.

So there you were. On a mild Wednesday morning in late September, standing before Thacher Tire after a lot of asking around, a lot of time flipping through Martha’s phone book, and even more odd looks. You let out a careful breath, doing your best to reassure yourself with the knowledge that the people you spoke to knew his name in the first place. He had to be here, and even if he wasn’t working today he should at least be employed here. Maybe you could be told when to come back to speak with him or where you could find him outside of work. Would they share something like that? People don’t tend to care about privacy in small towns, that’s why everyone knew (generally) where everyone else was. Maybe if you clarified that you’re an old friend, they wouldn’t treat you as a customer and tell you where he would be.

You were wringing your hands as you eyed the door in front of you. The glass looking in was worn from age and weather, clearly cleaned so people could see through it, but there seemed to be an aging to the corners where the rectangle of glass met the surrounding wood that couldn’t be scrubbed out. It felt like a portal looking into what could be, and you suddenly felt yourself getting anxious with what exactly meant could be. You had a knack for catastrophizing, and spiraled in all of the worst case scenarios until you were running back to your car and abandoning the lot.

“Trust me, it’s not as scary as it seems. Going for those intimidating opportunities is always better in the long run than letting ‘em slip away,'' Martha murmured to you before biting into the sandwich you brought her.

You bought typical fast food that you always came running back to when you were stressed, but she didn’t like the grease. You learned that over the past week when you brought up your bad habit, and her nose scrunched up at the mention of crappy burgers and overly salted fries. Instead you got her a tuna sandwich from the nearby marketplace, and she shared her big jug of iced, sweet tea with you.

“I haven’t seen him for over ten years…,” you sigh, toying with the crackling paper that was wrapped around your cheeseburger. “What if I’m the only one who clung onto our friendship? What if it’s stupid to him?”

“Mm, us women always do hold on longer,” she hummed thoughtfully and you refrained from your urge to correct her old-fashioned view of gender dynamics for the sake of staying on topic. “I still think you should go for it.”

“What if… what if it’s not what I think it’ll be? What if I’ve turned him into someone more fictional than Eddie in my mind, and when I’m faced with how he really is now I just… I dunno…wish I didn’t come here?”

“They never are what you conjure up. They’re always better up here,” she pointed a bony finger to her temple and you focused on one of the curls in her short gray hair for a second before bringing your gaze back to hers. “I still think you should go for it.”

You huff out a laugh at her repetition, smiling sadly to yourself as you look down at your hands and notice the thin sheen of grease on them. Maybe Martha’s right. Maybe this food is gross. You grab a few napkins from the brown paper bag and wipe at your fingers.

“Just think of it this way: is it worse knowing the truth or worse never knowing?”

Eddie had been having a shit day. Actually he had been having a shit week. If he let himself truly indulge in his pessimism, he’d be acknowledging that he’s altogether just had a shit life, but he was trying not to fall into that trap. It would make him the kind of depressed and bitter that made him snap at others and then feel guilty about it—which only made him feel worse about himself.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, a sudden flare up of his insomnia throwing off his circadian rhythm. He thought with how busy his schedule was that he’d knock out the second his head hit the pillow, but he only seemed to be exhausted until he finally laid down. Then was when his thoughts randomly chose to run and his heart would race with the sudden surge of anxiety-inducing thoughts. He was beginning to feel so overwhelmed by everything that his eyes burned with the beginnings of hot tears but he wiped at them carelessly with the heels of his hands before they could become too real. In his mind, they didn’t exist until they fell.

Eddie ached with exhaustion that only seemed to let up when he could actually get a shot at some rest. He ached with loss and grief. He ached with pure misery and painful seclusion and a silent trailer—besides the occasional buzz of electricity through his lamp that he turned back on when he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, or the groan of the old mobile home settling against its cinder blocks. The upcoming season made itself known through the ever growing chill that formed at night and occasionally blew through every crack and crease of the trailer, making him shiver and pull his blankets up before inevitably growing hot again and kicking them away.

He missed his friends that he rarely saw. Everyone is busy nowadays. He missed Wayne who… god, he couldn’t even think about it. He missed Chrissy who lit up his world Spring of ‘86 just for them to drift apart. People seemed to drift from him a lot. People seemed comfortable with forgetting him and giving a brief call only when they got a pang of guilt at any reminder that they were getting awfully close to leaving him behind. But who was he to drag them down? It was heart-aching enough to live the way he did sometimes, let alone when people acknowledged just how heart-aching it was. Sometimes he even missed his dad, but he always avoided thinking too hard about him before it could sink his mood to a new level that would be hard to crawl out of.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep Wednesday night until early into Thursday morning. He settled into a deep rest around 4 AM just to be abruptly woken up by his 6:30 alarm to make sure he was at Thacher’s by 7:00.

“Fuck off…,” Eddie groaned out loud and slammed his fist down onto the alarm clock, never lifting his face from where it was planted right against his worn pillow.

He laid there for what felt like forever, but was really only a few minutes before he finally peeled himself out of his spot. Forcing himself from the comfort of his old mattress was never easy, especially when he couldn’t rely on any excuses he made up as a teenager to just flop right back into his bed. He had to get up. He had to work.

He went to make his usual toast just to see there was only the end piece left in his loaf of bread, and let out a guttural groan of frustration as he tilted his head back. He forgot to stop at the store. Grumbling a bitter so that’s how today’s gonna go under his breath, he shoved the sad excuse for a slice of bread into the toaster and then began looking through the kitchen for something else to satiate him until lunch.

He wound up eating what was left in his jar of peanut butter with a spoon after slathering the small piece of toast with jelly. He didn’t have time to clean a travel mug (which he forgot to clean last night) so he took a regular one with him on his commute, and wound up dumping his coffee all over himself mid-sip when he had to stop short for a kid suddenly biking across the road. The young teen laughed at the close call and made his way to the other side of the street. Eddie glanced down at his drenched t-shirt and coveralls, releasing his third irritated groan of the morning while he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of his van before focusing back on the road and moving his foot to the gas. He focused on taking deep breaths as he gripped the steering wheel and made his way to the shop.

Thankfully, Linda had already started a pot of coffee in the break room which he happily drank and patted at his wet clothing with one of the blue shop towels. Staining was inevitable and it really didn’t matter with the coveralls anyways, but that didn’t mean he had to be damp. Taking that moment at the start of his shift helped with his mood, but the amount of customers bitching over the phone about how long it was taking to get their cars back were steadily draining him back into a surly mood. The most he had to look forward to and keep himself from unnecessarily snapping at someone was the fact that it was almost the weekend—and yes he would still have to work nights at The Hideout, but at least he didn’t have to get up early.

Never knowing was decidedly worse.

You had concluded this after ruminating on it all night—with and then without Martha’s help. And despite all of your anxieties that were just barely buried under the surface, you made yourself go to the garage again.

An obnoxious, tinny bell sounded and a dull voice said from behind a counter: Welcome to Thacher Tire. What can we do for you?

You approached carefully as if you moved too quickly, the depressing gray and beige setting around you—which held far more meaning for you than just fixing cars—would suddenly melt away and you’d wake up.

“Do you know where I could find Eddie Munson?” you asked in a soft voice, and the woman obnoxiously chomping at her gum looked up at you over the top of her glasses before looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

“He’s in the garage. Is he working on your car?”

Your heart jumped and although you hated to lie, you did.

“Yes,” you said probably too quickly, but it seemed nothing could get this woman to care.

“Wait over there, please,” she spoke in a voice that was just as greige as her place of work.

You thanked her meekly and shuffled over to one of the worn, faux leather and hard plastic seats. The room smelled of cheap pine air fresheners and the potent combination of oil, and that specific rubber scent of brand new tires. The space with the front desk and the waiting area was small enough to be cramped if it was a busy day, but since you were the only visitor at the moment you didn’t have to be confronted by the full potential of such limited space. You toyed with your hands and tried to pay attention to the fuzzy television in one corner of the room, but you couldn’t help listening in on the receptionist’s call.

“…’s a girl here to talk to ya… uh-huh… yeah I know… uh, no I don’t think so. I doubt it. Her voice is different from the one that keeps calling about the Ford. Might be though... ‘Kay.”

You anxiously wiped your sweaty palms over your jeans as you heard the clunk of hard plastic settling back into its cradle. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he did, but didn’t care? What if he thought you were weird for showing up? What if he grew up to be someone who stomps on anthills?

Your head shot up at the sound of a door opening and then closing from the back, and a man in filthy coveralls approached the woman behind the desk. He had messy, curly bangs settled on his forehead and the rest of his long hair was in a low ponytail. He was sweaty and clearly exhausted as he wiped at his forehead and left a swipe of grease in his wake, speaking quietly to the receptionist before making his way over to you. The closer he got, the better you could smell the grease and sweat and bitter coffee, but it didn’t deter you. What truly threw you were the circles under his eyes and the sort of pale cast to his skin that people got when they were fatigued or ill. You weren’t sure why a part of you expected to see an eleven year old kid approach you with a god awful buzz cut and big brown eyes, even after fourteen years.

This was it. This was your moment. The time to reclaim your best friend, and have the greatest person you had ever met back into your life. Why was your throat suddenly so dry? You swallowed anxiously and then parted your lips to speak and-

“Miss, I know you’re waiting on your car to be fixed before the weekend—I promise I’m working as quickly as I can.”

You tried not to cringe at the use of “miss” and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes wondering why he didn’t see an almost ten year old girl with a messy braid in her hair that she did by herself, complaining at him to chew with his mouth closed.

“I lied,” You said bluntly and the man stared at you in a way that felt blank and still despite his wonderment.

“I-I don’t have a car here. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He eyed you curiously, his hands slowly wiping onto an old rag. It looked like it had been used so many times, you doubted it was even picking up any filth on his hands but just moving it around instead. He was clearly thrown off by the sentiment which brought a sort of youthfulness to his face in that moment of curiosity before his features hardened.

“Listen. I’m sure whatever prank you have conjured up is hilarious, but I’m tired and trying to do my job.”

“No-- no, no,” you tried to clarify, shooting up from your seat. “I—I-”

But he was already swiftly stomping away from you towards the back, muttering to the receptionist with a quick and surely rude comment about you on his way. You were moments from being politely asked to leave, you’re sure, but the woman hesitated with a gentle expression when she saw you approach her with glossy eyes.

“Could you please just give him this?” you asked in a soft voice that you did your best to keep even, but of course it wobbled just enough to be humiliating. You could feel the heat in your face and (even worse) the moisture in your eyes so you did your best to avoid eye contact.

You outstretched your arm and she met you halfway with a nod, allowing you to drop the old friendship bracelet into her palm.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #mechanic!eddie #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #angst #slow burn #slow burn eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #bsf!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson series

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sillypiratelife · 3 months

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Falling for zosan and namivivi because I am a sucker for parallels and relationships that are not what people would expect of them.

For example, I prefer when Zoro and Sanji don't get together because they are sexually attracted to each other, but because there is literally no real reason forcing them together but they choose to be together either way.

Why do they fight? Why each other?

There's nothing about fate or blind love in there.

Loving Sanji is a decision for Zoro. He picks Sanji. He decides he wants to tease Sanji and fight with him and offer to Sanji those parts of himself that no one else has seen. Zoro loves deliberately, with all his being. He knows what he's getting into and he accepts it, a promise made to last forever. He did the same with Kuina and Luffy, so it doesn't make sense to me to have a version of Zoro that loves romantically 'cause there's no other option. Remember when he preferred to die over denying his ambitions? Or all the times he has sacrificed himself expecting nothing in return? Or the fact he is praised for following no one he doesn't want to and nothing but what pleases him?

And Sanji can only choose to love Zoro. It'd be a fight with his traumas and the persona he created to keep the hurt at bay, you know, "the romantic cook that loves and lusts for women". It wouldn't be fair or pretty either if Sanji was forced into it. I'm not saying he can't be sexually attracted to Zoro —and I must clarify, for me Zoro is fully on the asexual spectrum— but ultimately, I think that Sanji would never dive on it if not fully conscious about what it entails. Sanji has a lot of issues he must start working on before involving himself in anything romantic or sexual with a man. It's the guilt? The shame? The way he represses himself and denies himself happiness? The way he thinks he needs to fake an easygoing persona so that others wouldn't worry? The self-loathing? Zoro sacrifices himself because that's his duty and he knows himself and his wishes— he'd die to be the best swordman and he'd die for Luffy to be the pirate king and he'd die for his crew. He doesn't wish death, tho. Sanji? His self-sacrificing is born out of suffering and self-deprecation. Loving Zoro would be a choice, no doubt.

With Nami and Vivi, it's that the circumstances make them perfect for each other, just to later keep them apart.

Vivi and Nami fit together. It took Nami one single night and she knew she'd sacrifice anything— that they would sacrifice anything to help Vivi. Nami saw her own fear and loneliness and guilt and desperation reflected in the way Vivi made her lip bleed from her bite while the Igaram ship was on fire. They were "cursed" to survive. To fight and struggle and survive, because no one else could face Arlong or Crocodile. Little girls —kids, then teenagers— sailing to a world of crime where they got claimed by the organizations they hated the most, the one they wanted to tear down because they were hurting their home. Young attractive teen girls who turned their bodies into weapons to distract and surprise their enemies so they could have a chance to defeat them.

Girls who know what it's like to smile when you want to break down, what it's like to kneel out of frustration and scream and feel useless helpless.

The strawhat girls were to fucking hell as mere children and got out of there walking, okay?

What allowed the princess and the burglar to find companionship within the other were those things like the trauma of being the only one who could reclaim back their home or the fear of being alone against a situation bigger than themselves. Being honest, I'm not sure if they'd have clicked without it. In the end it's a bit funny, isn't it? Alabasta is the reason Vivi met the strawhats and the reason why she can't sail to go on adventures with them. In fulfilling the promise of saving Alabasta, Nami made it so that Vivi wouldn't be able to leave with them. Well, she could, but not really. Vivi is a good princess and she wouldn't abandon her people = her country.

Vivi suffered for being a rich princess, but saved herself + her people 'cause they underestimated how influential and powerful she could be. On the other hand, Nami suffered for being a poor no one first, then for being too important for Arlong to discard, yet they never expected that Nami would have so many people willing to fight for her.

Like a moth to flame, a girl reflected on water.

Vivi and Nami are an echo of each other, one that rings clear and true across the seas. For me, there could be no one else for them. Who else would get it? Who else could understand what they can't explain? What they've lived through? Who held Vivi and swore it'd be okay that night at Whiskey Peak? Who took care of Nami when she was at death's door with fever for days? All the moments become a giant picture with them at the center of it. There's no one else. It couldn't be.

#zoro and luffy are queerplatonic to me and they deserve their own posts #no romantic no platonic but a secret third option (an aroace relationship between a captain and his first mate)#ANYWAY #shan blogs about one piece!#one piece anime #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zosan #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #vivi nefertari #namivivi #vivinami

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

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Run With Me

Ser Criston Cole x Targaryen!Virgin!Reader

Gif created by @jameswan

Smut (MDNI +18)

Summary: You are the eldest sister and daughter of the Targaryen family. Your father bypasses you as heir to the throne as the rules of realm proclaim you illegitimate to the line of succession. Because of this you feel ignored and develop a friendship with your knight Ser Criston Cole. One day before your wedding, he confesses his love for you.

A/N: I know people are hating on Criston right now. I hate him, too. But I still have a place for him in my heart because he’s a very nuanced character along with Alicent whom people also have their qualms with. Anyway, I wrote a happier version of the ‘run away with me’ sequence between him and Rhaenyra except it’s the reader of course. I hope ya’ll enjoy because I did.

Word Count: 4.9k+

Warnings: misogyny, feeling of depression and loneliness, attempted suicide, loss of virginity, p in v (unprotected), sub/dom dynamics, blood kink, choking, spit kink, spit as lube, creampie, doggystyle, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), spanking, cum eating, ambiguous happy ending

The bastard child. That was just one of the many names you’ve heard swirling around the streets of the Dragonstone when referring to you. It used to hurt a lot more but now you’ve owned up to the name.

You were not birthed by Aemma Arryn. Instead, you were a child born out of wedlock. Daughter of a whore and King Viserys I. As a young child, your father would visit every other fortnight, providing you with food and clothing while keeping you a secret from the public. Slowly, his visits would be few to none and your mother struggled to stay afloat for the two of you.

At age 17, your mother had passed away from illness. This was the point where you’d truly felt forsakened by the Gods. Your father left you and your mother to crawl through pits of hell, your mother’s gone, and now you were officially alone.

When you learned of the Queen’s death, however, you were saddened. In some way, you’d seen her as a mother to you indirectly. Although, she hated the idea that her husband had a secret love child, she still encouraged her husband to be apart of your life. So when she’d died the same day your mother passed, you were utterly shattered. Completely broken.

King Viserys I Targaryen, claimed you as his daughter not long after Aemma and Baelon’s funeral, as a promise to his wife that he’s stay apart of your life.

Just like that you were supposed to accept this new life. No longer on the streets, forced to wear pretty dresses, and learn the customs of the kingdom. Just like that and you were in the eye of the public sent to be torn to bits by rumors and societal norms that did not apply to you. And just like that…you were made to see the man who’s been in and out of your life for 17 years as your Father.

It’s numbing to say the least. Even after 4 years, at the age of 21, you couldn’t possibly see yourself as part of the family. Everyone knows this, too. Even if you shared blood with the King himself, you’ll never be a real Targaryen in there eyes.

The day that Rhaenyra was announced heir was evidence enough. Your father, although, kind and remorseful for his absence understood the rules of the realm already takes issue with a woman on the throne but an illegitimate child would cause a war of all wars.

Now as woman of the Targaryen line with no position for the throne, your next bet was to be married off to some high lord. Your father had plans to marry you off to Lord Jason Lannister. Little protest could be made, your duty was to marry to this man you hardly knew. A man filled with plenty pride but lacked intelligence.

It was as if no one could hear your pleas for help. No one. Not even your half sister could understand this pain.

You belonged nowhere.

————

It was the day of the royal hunt for Price Aegon’s 2nd nameday. Your father ordered you to spend at least a few moments of your time with Lord Jason much to your chagrin.

“Expect that in our marriage, Lady Targaryen, we bore 6 children. All healthy, strong boys that will become future great men leading within the walls of King’s Landing.”

“Although, that sounds…enticing. I just don’t think I’d like that many children. At least…I’m not sure of it so soon. I am young.”

“You are far above the age of marital age for women. Very well a spinster. Should you really have any standards for which you’d be willing to proceed?”

You seethed, clenching your teeth in order to keep yourself from saying anything rude. “Will you please excuse me, Lord Jason.”

You curtsied then walked briskly away. You were sure that your father had his eyes on you. You didn’t care. You wished to be as far away from this place as you could. Your knight Ser Criston Cole follows closely behind you.

You wanted to be alone. Hiking up your dress, you kicked off your shoes and made a run for it through the woods. Ser Criston following close after you.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your heavy garments weighed down on you, your feet hurt with each contact of the unsteady ground but you ran. You ran as if you were searching for the end of the earth.

Every now and then, you’d look back. He was gaining on you. You grew tired but with the last bit of adrenaline you had you continued forward. You abruptly stopped in your tracks when you realize you’d nearly ran over the edge of a cliff. You looked below you. The ragged large rocks and forestry had never looked so peaceful.

“Princess!” Ser Criston calls from behind you. You turned to face him, tears running down your face. Your inches away from the ledge, the tiny rock under your feet shift and roll off with each move you make.

“Don’t call me that,” You shook your head. “I’m no princess. I’m no Targaryen. I’m the daughter of a whore. I’ve lived most of my years scavenging through streets only a few miles away from where my father rules. Now I walk above those same streets but still…it’s only a few miles away. I will always be reminded of my past. I’m not wanted. Instead of my father willing to understand me, he marries me off to a prideful fool. It isn’t fair. I wish to live no more.”

You attempt to lift your feet up to hang over the ledge. Your white knight makes calls out your name halting you from further movement.

“Understand,” He says in a shaky voice, his hands put out in front of him. Gradually, he inches further up to you. “I know what it is like to come from nothing. To have no one. I’ve lost so much in my life that this life I know now is all I know and all I can remember. I would give anything to remember my life before all this that way I’d appreciate who I am now and know the legacy I carry. Your past is who you are. We cannot erase those parts of ourselves whether wish to or not. You have that privilege to know where you come from and use it to your advantage. You belong here.”

“I don’t. My father only came to find me after all these years because his wife requested it on her deathbed. She showed me more compassion final moments than he’s ever shown me in my entire life.”

“And he regrets this everyday. You don’t need to forgive him. It is your choice what you choose. But he only had the best intentions for you now. Even with marrying you off. You’d have a better life. You’d be comfortable and happy.”

“Happy? I’m not marrying who I want. I’m only a pawn for political power. I understand you come from suffering as well, Criston. But you do not carry these burdens that I do. I’m mocked constantly by my own people. I’m all alone.”

“Your not. If there’s anyone that could understand just a morsel of troubles, it’s your sister. She’s a woman announced as heir to the throne. You understand the kind of torment she’s facing because of this. If you’d talk with her maybe it won’t be so lonely,” He standing right behind you. “But please…don’t take your life. There’s more to look forward to. You’re not done seeing life yet.”

You breathing quickens, heavy. You breakdown crying. Ser Criston wrapping his arms around you and you melt in his touch. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to hold you against his chest. The embrace lasting for about 3 minutes before you part.

“Would you like to go back?” He questions.

“No. Not yet.” With that, you walked back through the woods and he follows you through.

The night arrived and you both set camp somewhere. A fire started in the middle you as your only source of light. You both exchange stories of your lives. Ser Criston not remembering much of his life because of the trauma he’s experienced but the parts he remembered fondly opened him up. His smile was quite dashing. It was enough to make you wish that you could always make him laugh.

He’d only every smiled around Rhaenyra most times. You could tell he was fond of her. She was beautiful so it was not hard to see why. She was also very daring. It was unheard for women to speak up so boldly. It was something you’ve always aspired to be. You always envied that you couldn’t speak up for yourself the way you wanted to. Sometimes you just wanted the chance to do as you please with no consequences.

“Have you ever though about what life beyond here is like?” You asked Ser Criston.

“Yes. I think about it all the time. What it’d be like to live life aside from my vows. It’s tempting dream but it’s just not in my future.” He shrugs.

“In my dreams, there’s a place called Sunfair. It’s beautiful because there…nobody knows who I am so they can’t judge me. I’m only a woman. I can do as I please. It’s peaceful. Every time, I close my eyes and dream, I hope to be there again only the next time I wish it to be real.”

“It sounds like a lovely place. I wouldn’t mind joining that nation.” He jokes.

“I think you’d be more than welcome, Ser Criston. A place like that needs a man like you. You’re kind, understanding. If I ever see it again, I’ll dream you’re there, too.”

The knight smiles. “I’d appreciate it, Princess.”

You smiled back. Comfortable silence falling between you with the only other sound being the crackling of the fire.

When the morning arose, you found Ser Criston had thrown his cloak over you while you rested on the soft moss. The walk back to the camp area was silent. At some point, the two of you spotted the white stag for the hunt. Instead of killing it, you approached it, looking in its eyes before setting it free. Your father immediately chastised you upon arrival but relief washed over him knowing you returned safe.

You took the time to approach you sister for a conversation to settle any tension between you two.

“Rhaenyra, I would like to apologize. I was cold. Distant. I made no effort whatsoever to form a relationship with you. I understand if you do not wish to speak with me. But I do want you to know that I would be honored if you were my queen. Your leadership would be much appreciated in this kingdom and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”

Rhaenyra laughs. “Thank you, sister. I should apologize, too. I wasn’t so easy to get along with either.”

“Well, both our mothers did pass away within each other, it was only natural that we’d have a hard time getting along,” You excused. “I would like for us to confide in one another for now on. I think we could really support one another especially during times like these.”

“I-I’d like that, sister.” Rhaenyra says, smilingly brightly.

The rest of the day, the two of you bonded over the struggles you both faced as women and the fight for your own autonomy. It was nice to know that you weren’t exactly alone.

You notice Ser Criston across the camp shooting a small smile. You smile back, silently thanking him for listening to you and for patching your relationship with your sister.

On the Sail back home, You and Ser Criston continued telling stories to each other to amuse you. He told you of the battles he’s been in and, although violent, it was captivating. He was warrior to say the least. Sometimes, you question if he forced himself to forget certain things to protect his own peace of mind.

When you arrived home, your white knight took his place standing in front of your bedroom door. You knew you had to go to bed soon but you wanted to talk just a little more.

“I want to thank you, Ser Criston, you’ve helped me out of my shell these past few days. It’s not been easy to say the least. I still struggle with the idea that I’m to be wed to a man with the arrogance the size of horse but I appreciate being able to make amends with my family. “

“If I could, I’d do all I could to make you happy so that you’d never feel the need hide yourself again.”

“Criston…” You whispered.

His hand rests on your cheek, lightly caressing it with his thumb. He’s looking down at you with so much love that it makes your heart full. His lips lower onto yours and he kisses you. His lips are pressed softly on yours like they’re barely there.

He pulls away, apologizing profusely. “I don’t know what came over me, Princess. Forgive me for my misconduct. I shall find myself punished for—”

You cut him off, placing your lips back onto his. This time adding pressure into the kiss. He places his hands over your arms, pushing you away.

“We shouldn’t.” He whispers.

“I don’t care. I just want you,” Your hands run through his hair. “Let me take care of you. In exchange, you’ll take care of me, too.”

“My vows…”

“Forget them in this moment. Let us go to that place in my dreams. The one where you are just a man and i, a woman.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Is it because you love my sister? I see the way you look at her. If that is who you wish to be with, I will not stop you. But I want you to know that I care for you. I have always cared since the first day we met four years ago and you noticed me in the far corner of the room when everyone else ignored. I just hope we can still be friends.”

“Princess!” He growls his hands, cupping your face. “How could you think I wouldn’t want you? I’m not in love with your sister. I love you. I’ve love you since then, too. I’ve just kept my distance because of moments like these. These moments were I’d want you all to myself.”

“You have me,” You turn the knob to your bedroom door. “Stay with me with night. Make me yours. I don’t want to spend another night without you.”

“Then, you have me as well.” He kisses you once more the two of you, stumbling into your room. He shuts the door behind him and he looks at you, eyes dark with pure lust.

You helped him out of his heavy armor, slowly removing them as a sensual way of teasing him. You found that you were only torturing yourself in the process. You needed him badly.

He helps you out of your dress and corset, kissing down your neck and back with each new part of exposed skin.

You turn to face him again, eager to feel his lips on yours again. Your back pressed up against the wall and his strong hand around your throat. You gasped against his lips at his sudden dominance.

“Take me, Criston. Don’t make me wait.”

Taking you by your neck, he peels you away from the wall, walking you back towards your bed. He show you back and you fall onto your mattress. You sit up on your elbows, watching him remove his pants in anticipation.

The moment he’s released from his confinements, you gasp. Your eyes followed v-line of his abdomen leading to something so beautiful. He’s large and erect. You’ve never seen a penis before but the mere size of him was intimidating. The view from where you sat made him look like a King before you. Tan skin glowing with contrast of the orange flames lit around your room. His chest chiseled to that of a Greek God, the hairs sprouting from his pecs adding to his manly presence.

Pulling your legs so that your ass hung just a little over the edge of the bed, he brings them to your chest, widening you for him. He’s on his knees before you. Your glistening virgin cunt presenting before him. He can practically see your heart beating staring down at.

Ser Criston’s eyes never leave yours. Sticking out his long, thick tongue; he licks a long stripe in between your folds collecting the juices that have accumulated. You mewled at this new sensation. Who would have thought the feeling of a wet tongue between your legs could feel this good?

He gives you a few teasing kitten lick before moving his mouth entirely from your core, sucking and biting your inner thighs instead. He wanted to torture you, is that it?

You couldn’t bare it. You needed him now. If he wished for you to beg him, you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Criston…please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. Please drink me.”

“Does my princess wish to have her first orgasm from a mouth willing to please?”

“Yes, yes. I want it.” You cried, hips rolling.

“Your wish is my command.” He chuckles, finding your desperation amusing. Then, his mouth latches onto your swollen clitoris and you go mad.

You moaning as if the walls were thin and yet neither of you cared. He’s shaking his head side to side, mouth fully dived into your pussy to drink from it’s fountain. He loved the way you even tasted so pure against his tongue.

Needing to know just how tight you are, he sinks a finger into you. You tremble at this new sensation. You’ve fingered yourself before but it’s never touched this level inside you. He laps at your clit while fucking his finger into you and another gush of your juices shoot up.

“Fuck, this cunt’s weeping for me.” He groans.

“All for you, Ser.”

He groans at this. He never thought hearing his title said during sex could sound so good. It made him go feral. Forcing another finger into you, he spreads them inside you in order to stretch you out. You were unbelievably tight and Criston worried that even with his fingers it wasn’t enough to properly prepare you for his large cock.

He’s devouring you and the mixing of his fingers pumping into you, massaging your sweet spot, was enough to have you hyperventilating. You’re eyes rolled into the back of your head. You were going to come and it would be with an intensity you weren’t sure you can handle. Yet, you rock against his fingers to reach for it anyway.

He smiles up at you. “That’s it, princess. Ride them the way you would my cock.”

He spanks your clitoris and your officially through. The brightness of a thousand suns blind your vision and your body stiffens as your orgasm slams through you. Then, you begin to convulse feeling his fingers continue to hit against the pressure so that it builds and builds.Tears flowed from your eyes and you wrapped a hand around his wrists to keep him from pumping anymore or you’d lose consciousness.

Showing mercy, he slows his pace until he finally stops pumping watching the way you writhed and whimpered at the sensation he’s given you. When he felt like all shocks had dissipated, he slowly slid his fingers from your soaking pussy. His fingers slick with your honey, he brings them to his lips for a taste. He brings them to your lips as well smearing it around. You instinctively licked your lips, tasting the ambrosia.

“I need to be inside you.” He says.

You move up on the bed, getting on your hands and knees. You press you face down into the mattress. “Take me this way.”

“But…it’ll be too much for your first time. It’ll hurt.”

“I want this, Criston. I mean it. I want to be fill by you. Every inch.”

He bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a desperate whine. You were going to be the death of him.

Positioning himself behind you, he spits in his hand and strokes himself a few times. He didn’t need to do so. You were already so wet but he figured anything could help you to adjust to him. He’s pressed against your entrance, your folds parting to make way for his intrusion. The pressure is heavy but he makes no attempts to move further. Impatiently, you rock back against him in an attempt to sink down on him. He holds your hips from further movement. You whine.

His hand collides with your plump ass and in the same swift motion, his cock splits you open. You clenched the sheets, gasping at the feeling of being torn apart. He moans above you. He understood that you were in pain but the sensation of your velvety walls swallowing him in was so blissful that all he could do is voice his pleasure.

Ser Criston stills. Only a quarter of his length is inside you. He pulls out, only the tip inside. Then, he plunges in again. This time half of him inside you. You let out a choked cry. He rubs your ass and your back as he continues to feed more of himself into your cunt with each thrust.

He snaps his hips forward, rough against you. This last thrust causing you to scream out. He’s fully inside you. Yanking you by your hair, he tangles a fist around it. With your face risen, he uses his other hand to clamp over your mouth, knowing that once he begins moving you’ll be screaming for bloody mercy.

He snaps his hips into you over and over again until he’s picked up a rough pace. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on that pressure of being filled to the brim over and over again. You sobbed into his hand. He’s growling above you like a mad man. An animal. This was how you were meant to be taken. Raw and pounded in with reckless abandon.

The grip of your hands bunching the sheets beneath you matching his grip around your hair. Your tears running down his fingers yet his grip over your mouth never falters. The clapping sounds of his hips clashing with your ass only made you clench around him harder.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so incredibly tight.” He groans.

He removes his hands from your hair and over your mouth, sending you falling forward against his harsh strokes. He pulls out of you and your disoriented and scared that he’ll leave you with no more of him.

“Please put it back in!” You could cry again.

He flips you onto your back, smirking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He plunges into you again, a sign of his devotion to please you. You were going to cum on his cock tonight. He was going to make sure of it.

He’s strokes long and deep into you, dark eyes boring into your own. His cock sloshes around in your pooling heat. You lay a hand against his chest curling your fingers into the chest hair, feeling his heart beat.

His lips find your and your tongues fight for dominance. Your body are entangled in a hot and sweaty embrace and you wished you could stay like this forever. He allows himself the moment to remove his eyes from your blissed out face, staring down between your bodies. Your pussy eagerly draws in his cock begging for its presence even when he pulls out. The mix of blood and your creaminess coats his cock and he could feel pride consume him, knowing that he’s the one to take your precious flower. If he could, he’s keep the bloody sheets as a reminder of how well he’s fucked throughly into you.

Then, he witnesses your hands snaking between your body to rub yourself. He goes into a frenzy at this sight, thrusting so fast into you that you can hardly keep up your grinding. You accept his punishing pace, letting him fuck you into the mattress. Your orgasm was fast approaching.

“I’m gonna come.” You chant over and over.

“Me too, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock.”

“Cum with me. I want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You mean this?”

“Yes, I want to carry your children,” You cradle your face in your hands, pecking his lips. “Let go for me, love. Fill me with everything you’ve got.”

“Ughh.” He fills you clenched around him like a vice and he comes hard. His white essence painting your walls. He’s gasping and whines with each spurt.

You follow after him, your orgasm hitting harder at the feeling of him filling you. This was exactly you’ve craved from him for so long. You’d desperate wanted to have his children and this moment was an act of you love for him.

When you both came to, you smiled at one another. The wet, sticky mess between you was evidence of your desires for one another. He pulls out of of you slowly. You both groan from the lost. But once he lays beside you and rests you against his chest, you felt no need to mourn the loss of him inside you. You were whole again.

“I marry tomorrow.” You whispered.

“I know.” He sighs.

“I don’t regret any of this. I love you always.”

“I love you.” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I will never be apart from you, even when you’re married. My life and my heart belongs to you.”

You held onto each other for dear life. The inevitable will soon arrive. So all you could do now is stall time and wish for it to freeze entirely that way you could forever be with the one you truly loved.

—————

In the morning, your handmaidens had prepared your wardrobe and hair for the wedding. You were noticeably disheartened but neither of them commented, understanding you didn’t wish to be married of to a Lannister. They pitied you but, nonetheless less, your duties are to be fulfilled.

The guests board the ships for the wedding venue and you felt sick at the thought that you were soon approaching a life of an unloving political arrangement.

Criston approaches you, watching as you looked out into the sea. “Princess.” He greets.

You turned to look at him, giving a small smile before looking out into the ocean once again.

“I must tell you. I won’t be serving here very long. I’ve decided I’ll be resigning my position. I’ve broken my vows and I’m sure if I continue my duties here knowing what I’ve done.”

You look at him, eyes widened. “No. You can’t.”

“I must.”

“If you leave, you’ll kill me dead. I’ll be all alone again. I can’t bare it if you’re not in my life.”

“Then, run with me.” He says, slowly closing in on you. “I know of a place. A place with beautiful green pastures. Oranges and cinnamon in abundance. We could go there. It could be our Sunfair.”

“But my duties—”

“You said you’d like to marry for love. We love each other, do we not? If you don’t wish to marry, we could flee. Rhaenyra will be queen. You won’t miss out on the crown or the throne. Come live with me and we could live happily. They’ll never find us.”

You were panting, this spontaneous decision taking you by surprise. This meant leaving your life behind for good. Your father and sister never to be seen again.

“Family…”

“We could start a family of our own,” He places a hand on your stomach. “We can have as many as you’d like. They’d never have to suffer for long as I’m here. But I do not wish to see them torn apart for the fight of royalty and legitimacy.”

“I want this. And I want you.”

“Then be my wife—Run. With. Me.” He stares you in the eye, pleading for your to say something.

“Yes,” You smiled, tears falling down your face. “I’ll be your wife. I’ll run with you. I’ll be the mother to your children.”

He beams with joy, cupping your face. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Take my hand.” He says, holding it out.

You hesitate, looking around before taking it. Reaching the peak of the boat, you step up along with him. People began to scream and yell at the sight, guards making their way to you. You looked at your father one last time a look of horror on his face but then your face lands on Rhaenyra and she’s smiling, nodding her approval.

You focus your eyes on Criston one last time and then you both jump ship. Regardless of whether you’d live or not, you did it. In the end, you’d get to be with him through the end.

Meanwhile, the people screamed for you from above. Below, you and Criston swirled around each other underwater, smiling then leaned for a kiss sealing your love for a lifetime.

1K notes · View notes

sourpatchys · 1 month

Text

Title: Life in Carnet

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: PG-13, fluff. F!reader

Time: after Overhaul, before PLF

Summary: An issue has developed. Though, you can’t say you mind much. The future is yours.

A/n: This was supposed to be much longer and I may still add a second part later on, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for much too long and I decided it was finally time to just post it and let it out into the world!

Masterlist guidelines

—

The terrors of the underworld were almost too much for you at times. Watching over your shoulder just to be sure a knight in shining armor wouldn't pop out and slice you under the guise of misplaced justice.

There was no justice in a world so cruel. The arms of the masses kept those unfavorable in a tube. Never to be loved, never to be seen or heard. Though that tube would grow, freaks of nature holding hands inside the vessel, ready to break the glass.

It was almost poetic, knowing that loneliness could never touch you, it could only stand by and watch as you desecrated its makeshift grave.

You were not lonely— and you never would be again.

The deadly hands of the misunderstood held you close, a warm embrace that shunned all the coldness and misfortune in the world. You were like royalty, standing above those who were nothing but pawns ready to die for the cause.

You were not ready to die, you had finally spread your wings— you were ready to live.

And who better to stand by your side than the King of demise, Tomura Shigaraki.

In his own way, he had become the very thing he hated most— a symbol of peace. He gave hope to those the world had shamed, giving a reason to live to the ones left to rot in the gutters.

Hero's couldn't save everyone— Hero's didn't want to save everyone. Anyone who goes against their morals is doomed to suffer.

It pained you to see the children left to die on the streets, the addicts that had been deemed lost causes, and the broken who were left to crumble. You could see a piece of yourself in all of them, their rose tented glasses had been shattered and they were left to cut themselves on the glass.

Tomura didn't care much for any of them, and yet he had still managed to replace that in which had been broken.

He cared for the league, for the posey he had created with his own two hands. And he cared for you. The woman he saw cursing the world with blood stained hands.

Your introduction to the league wasn't pretty. You were dirty and untamed— having just taken the life of someone you held dear— there was darkness in your eyes.

No one asked you questions, no one made you feel like a freak. You became their healer— using your quirk to its fullest potential, never once holding back.

Your ability was known as the 'Touch of life'. Originally, you had hated your quirk. Being pawned off from person to person, forced to heal strangers who saw you as an object more than a person. Growing up you weren't allowed to attend school, forced to stay home and work— not a dime going into your pocket.

People were supposed to want to help people. That's what you had been told over and over again. You couldn't complain, you couldn't fight back or refuse to help.

You didn't want to help anymore.

The league never made you heal their scrapes and bruises, only asking for your services when it was absolutely necessary. You finally felt free— free to be a real human being.

And then Shigaraki, a man usually so careful with his hands, had sliced his palm. You couldn't even remember how— the memory had long since faded away. You grabbed him without thinking, taking his entire hand into your own, stitching the skin back together with a ray of light.

That's how you learned you were immune to decay. Your body fighting against his quirk so quickly it was at if he didn't have one at all.

And that's how you learned you loved your quirk after all.

Once it became apparent, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. He was like a wild animal hunting its prey— a touch starved villain feeling for the first time.

He was gentle with you, holding you close, running his calloused hands up and down your sides, forever in awe at the feel of your skin on his own. Awkward and untamed, vibrating with uncertainty and longing for more.

His kisses felt like fireworks, they seared into your skin, dangerous and yet oh so wonderful. He was addicted to you, and soon enough you were just as addicted to him.

Your relationship had no title— though with the way his scared lips would trail up your throat, nipping and pleading— you were sure it was love just the same.

Regardless of the tender kisses and soft touches, Shigaraki was still a deadly man. The king of the underworld, the high ruler of chaos.

So when you saw those glaring, unforgiving, bright pink lines, you found yourself being swallowed whole.

Your body was shaking, from fear or joy you couldn't be sure. It was unrealistic to bring a child into the world, especially when that world was crumbling— when the father was the one crumbling it.

You couldn't hold back a smile though, your anxieties fading quickly at the thought of a future. Placing your life giving hands over your abdomen— it felt right. You finally— undeniably— felt whole.

Dabi was the first one to notice you after you'd left the makeshift restroom, his piercing blue eyes looking you up in down with a frenzy.

"You look creepier than usual."

The rest of the leagues eyes met your own, their own curious glances boring into your soul.

"I have no idea what you mean by that— but I feel like I should be offended." You mocked a scoff, cocking your eyebrow in amusement.

Toga laughed, sitting up straight and tapping the cold cement floor beside her, urging you to sit with her. "You do look a little brighter than usual!"

You took the invitation, a small smile still grazing your lips. It was impossible to fully contain yourself— you were sure you'd explode if you had to reel in all of your facial expressions.

"I just got some good news is all— I wouldn't worry about it."

"Did that 12 handed freak finally propose or something?"

A small snort left your lips, "No, not to my knowledge. Speaking of— where is he?"

"Ohhh, so it does have to do with him!" Toga wiggled her eyebrows, giggling to herself.

Your relationship with Shigaraki wasn't a secret. Neither of you had said anything to anyone, but you weren't actively hiding it either— it just was.

Giving the teen a gentle shove you allowed yourself to let out a soft laugh of your own, "doesn't everything have to do with him?"

You got a strong mumble of agreement from the group, their annoyed expressions almost making you laugh fully.

"He said he'd be back before nightfall." Dabi finally metered, "Then again, who knows?"

Humming in response you decided to sit tight, pulling a heavily water damaged book out of your backpack.

— — —

Somewhere along the pages of Prince Charming finally realizing the girl of his dreams was only a few feet away— you had dozed off.

It wasn't often you got the privilege of sleep, the constant traveling and change of pace was hard on your body and mind. So being shaken awake wasn't exactly something you'd normally let slide— but seeing those carmine eyes so full of worry, you decided it wasn't a hill worth dying on today.

"Good morning." You sighed, slowly blinking the harsh tingling of your sleep deprived eyelids away.

Tomura wasn't amused by your lackluster approach, his body basically caging you in from where you sat, his eyes growing darker by the second.

"How are you feeling?"

At first his question confused you— your dreams still drifting away as reality tried to take over. Oh yes, that's right— he'd known you hadn't been feeling well.

If you weren't so sleepy you'd probably be more embarrassed over the fact that you had in fact— only grabbed a handful of pregnancy tests and booked it out of the closest convenience store. You hadn't even tried to get anything else.

A giggle left your lips as you leaned forward and gave your captor a kiss on the cheek, "it's fine don't worry about it."

Sighing he shifted so he was sitting beside you, his hand immediately grabbing yours. He loved holding your hand— you weren't sure if it was just to remind himself that he could or if it was lasting deprivation from being touched starved for so many years— but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, so long as he never let go.

"You haven't been eating right."

It was a statement meant to guilt you, to force you to tell him every single thing that's been bothering you— to outline your sickness in a bullet point list so he could take care of you.

"Is that so?" You turned to him with a raised brow, daring him to continue on with his spiel.

He, ever so observant, took the bait and ran with it.

"You can't keep anything down, you're light headed, and you're way too exhausted for everything to be fine." His voice broke a bit at the end, and with good reason. Not being in good health while simultaneously living on the streets isn't exactly a good combo.

He cared about you too much to let anything bad happen. After dealing with the yakuza he'd slowed down entirely, refusing to move too fast or too far until he knew exactly what needed to be done— all because you weren't feeling good. He'd never say it out loud— but it was easy to tell.

"It's not something I'll die from, modern medicine will make sure of that."

Turning his head and looking you up and down, he had a borderline disgusted look on his face.

"You've been sick for how long now? And you've shown no signs of getting better."

You hummed, putting your hand on your chin and pretending to think. "Yeah I'd say it's been a good two months now."

"This isn't a joke."

Giving him a serious expression, you replied "I know it isn't, you definitely aren't going to think it's funny—the league might though."

He smacked his head against the back of the crate the two of you were leaning on, looking up at the broken ceiling. "So you are dying."

"I already told you I won't die." You punched his arm, "I'll just be out of commission for a little while."

"And what, exactly, does that mean?"

You let out a nervous laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder, "it means next time we go out we're gonna have to steal some prenatal vitamins."

You felt his body stiffen under you after a few minutes, his mind putting the dots together painfully slowly. This isn't exactly how you thought this conversation would go— though knowing Tomura, he'd never expected this conversation at all.

"Oh."

Afraid to see his expression, you kept your eyes towards the floor, squeezing his hand that was still wrapped in yours.

"Is that okay..?"

It was silent for a while, the sound of the other members snoring being the only noises keeping you sane. You knew this may not go over well, even as excited as you were, Tomura had an entire world to destroy, he had people to kill and a kingdom to build. How would a baby fit into that life?

Finally, you felt a large inhale from under you— taking that as permission you looked up to his face, surprised when you saw the fond look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah, that's more than okay."

You sat up, lifting your head off of his shoulder to look him directly in the eyes, awe, ever apparent, on your face.

"Really? You aren't mad?"

A dastardly grin made its way onto his face, his pearly white teeth glistening in the moonlight. Truly— it was a sight to behold.

"I don't see anything wrong with carrying on my lineage— especially not with you." He chuckled, a dark frenzy coming into his eyes, "besides, you hang back anyways, nothings going to hurt you."

You thought on his words. It was technically true, being a healer meant you weren't fighting so much as laying low and taking care of the aftermath— the only change you could see happening is you not being on the battlefield at all, staying at the base until they returned.

But that came with some risks on its own.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would."

That same gleam was in his eyes as he looked you over, his hands making their way around your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, inhaling the scent of your not-so-freshly washed hair.

"I suppose I should be nervous. But I always knew this was a risk." He took in a breath, a laugh passing through as he thought it over, "I'm ready for anything. I'm going to destroy this world, but that doesn't mean I can't make my own in the process."

The Tomura before you was different than the one you had fallen in love with. He was different than the one that pulled you off the street and gave you a reason to live— this Tomura was confident, this Tomura had a plan.

This Tomura knew what he wanted.

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ineffectualdemon · 9 months

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I'm going to get personal while talking about Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian

A lot of you don't understand what it's like to be a neglected child

I'm not saying Wei Wuxian was in an enviable position in the family as both the Golden Child (to Jiang Fengmian) and the Scapegoat/Troublemaker (Madam Yu)

To receive all the attention BOTH good and bad is not a pleasant position to be in (especially as it feels that while Jiang Fengmian favoured Wei Wuxian he didn't really see him, he saw his parents)

But to be the neglected child is awful

To know that your parents wouldn't notice if you weren't around hurts. To never receive attention and care and certainly not positive attention or care ever gives you severe insecurity and a feeling that you will never be enough and all your accomplishments are worthless because it doesn't matter how good you are or how diligent or how hard you work.

You don't matter

Your accomplishments don't matter

Your feelings don't matter

And yes you are resentful and angry but no one allows you that anger

They laugh it off or act like it's out of no where

No one sees your anger as justified. How could it be? You're not in the firing line! You're not getting the worst of it

And no you don't want to be seen in the bad ways and hurt in the same way but you fucking want to be seen

By anyone!

Just to have your hurt and your sadness and your loneliness and your successes and triumphs seen and heard and validated

That's all you want

And you want to protect your sibling from being the constant victim and try to play peacemaker but that doesn't work when you're invisible and you also hate that you will never be as good as them at anything and how there is nothing that is just yours. Your accomplishment that they haven't already done better

But they are also the only one who sees you at all

The only one who gives you comfort when you cry or backs you up when you do something well

But they don't keep promises anymore than anyone else

And there are reasons. They have their own hurt. Their own issues. They are also a child trying to grow up in a hostile world

But they still hurt you and leave you and don't see you enough

And there is resentment from them to you because you don't get targeted and you don't have to live up to anything and carry a weight that no one person should carry

Now I had enough issues with my own sibling (and they had enough issues with me. The causing each other pain went both ways) but we are reforming a relationship as adults

But if you add in secrets like the reason why Jiang Cheng lost his core and the core transfer that happened after plus the complete lack of communication from Wei Wuxian during it all and the seeming betrayals and rejections

Yeah it's no wonder that Jiang Cheng reacted like he did

And I gotta say I do like the relationship he has with Jin Ling. A Jin Ling who chooses to sit with Jiang Cheng. He sees his uncle and his hurt and his pride and he is proud of him, proud to be his nephew

And Jiang Cheng for all he is rough on the outside and makes empty threats and demands (that Jin Ling knows are empty and says as much) He is very caring and loving towards Jin Ling. This is shown in the trust Jin Ling has in him and how he gravitates to Jiang Cheng whenever he is insecure or afraid

And as crushing as the core transfer reveal and Wei Wuxian just leaving again was, Jiang Cheng did not go catatonic. He did not completely fall to pieces. Because he still has to care for his nephew and his sect

And I think that really shows how he has developed from a teenager

He had an embarrassing freak out but at the end of the day he can continue on. But he's still hurting

I think he can reconcile with Wei Wuxian but it's going to be painful and awkward and slow

I'm not saying Jiang Cheng is always right but I'm saying his hurt and his reactions are very real and very in character from the point of view of a neglected and unloved younger sibling

#jiang cheng #mdzs #mdzs meta #childhood trauma #childhood neglect #personal experiences

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morethanwonderful · 1 year

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Out of all of Wei Wuxian's traits, one of the ones that fascinates me the most is how incredibly casual and chummy he is with corpses. All the other cultivators are a bit desensitized to the dead by nature of their profession, yes, but Wei Wuxian in particular treats the dead very much the same as he treats living people, and I think it's simultaneously one of his best and most concerning attributes.

On the good side, the way Wei Wuxian treats the dead is absolutely an extension of his overall goodness and empathy. He stands on the side of those that are looked down on, and nobody faces more discrimination that the dead. He treats the dead like people because they are people, and they deserve to have their voices heard. That's what Empathy's for, and that's why he revives Wen Ning to stand as witness to his own murder. Wen Ning is not a thing! And even when Wei Wuxian is raising armies of dead Wens to fight on his behalf, we get illustrations of him giving a helping hand to a weak old corpse that can't stand on its own.

Wei Wuxian is painted in very deliberate contrast to Xue Yang, who treats the dead as tools and deprives them of agency. His closeness with them is a symbol of his kindness.

However, beyond treating the dead decently and like people, there is a point where his chumminess with them starts to get unsettling, and that's the point where it becomes a reflection of his loneliness and trauma. In particular, I'm thinking of his cuddliness with the ghosts he uses to torture Wen Chao and the corpse girls he's hanging out with when he invites Lan Zhan to drink with him. Because treating the dead with respect is a very different thing from having a corpse lay in your lap as you stroke its hair. And fierce corpses by definition do not have personalities (with Wen Ning as the exception that proves the rule), so treating them as companions to socialize with is rather concerning behavior.

So why is he like this? Isolation and trauma!

It's easy to understate the trauma of Wei Wuxian's three months in the Burial Mound, especially given that we don't see them play out but do get details about so many other horrible moments. But those three months? They Fucked Him Up. In particular, beyond the trauma of the near death experience (or presumably many many near death experiences in a row), he spent the better part of three months without seeing a single other living human. People are not meant to do that.

So what is a person gonna do when he spends three months in Worse Solitary Confinement? And when that solitude is spent on Fierce Corpse Mountain? He's gonna get really weird about corpses. He's gonna turn into the kind of man that would let a murderous ghost he's controlling lay in his lap as he strokes her hair, because for an extended period of time, that is the closest thing to human contact he's had access to.

And later, post-sunshot-campaign, Wei Wuxian does regain access to living humans and society, but he's still incredibly isolated. Just about everyone besides his siblings and Lan Zhan hates and/or is scared of him by the time we hit the scene of him and the fierce corpse girls throwing flowers, so it's no wonder he's hanging out with dead people. He already picked up the habit of replacing company with corpses once, so of course he doesn't see anything wrong with it. Maybe they're there as bodyguards, maybe he's just extremely lonely and doesn't have any human companions to drink with him, or maybe (probably) it's a mix of both. But in any case, it's a pretty clear expression of a horrifying degree of both past and present isolation.

That's why, though he doesn't lose his respect for the dead or his desensitization to touching corpses, we never see him just Hanging Out With Mindless Ghosts in his second life. It's a substitute for real companionship, not a healthy behavior, but lack of company is no longer an issue he has after being resurrected.

He doesn't need an entourage of corpse girls, because this time, when he wants company, he's always got Lan Zhan.

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d3sertdream3r · 1 year

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I’ve noticed a lot of rancid takes about Taliesin’s characters that are annoying me, so I’m going to rant for a minute.

Tal has perfected the art of creating paradoxical characters, and I think a lot of people end up getting lost and confused in the layers. This is not a “if you don't get it, you’re dumb” type of thing. It’s just that I wish people would truly ponder his characters and why they’re the way they are because they’re not the stereotypical protagonists that North American entertainment focuses on. They’re not strictly kind and generous, intelligent and charming, or hateful and arrogant. They’re all of the above.

A lot of western media features characters that are fairly cut and dry and easy to understand. There isn’t a ton of complexity happening, and from what I’ve seen, the majority of the people hating on his characters and role-play style are from areas where they aren't used to Tal’s type of character. They’re not used to characters having multiple characteristics that seem to contradict each other all at once (even though that’s how people are in real life). I’m guessing that’s part of why they don't like them, but who knows.

Caduceus is the least paradoxical of his characters, which is why I think most people say he’s their favorite of Tal’s characters. He is the personification of a fluffy blanket and a warm hug. What’s not to love?? Percy, Molly/Kingsley, and Ashton on the other hand, are all much rougher around the edges. The point of them is to provide the opposite of comfort for the audience; they're meant to make people a little uncomfortable. They hold up a mirror to the audience and force us to look at the parts of humanity that we try to avoid. Not the pure evil of mankind that Matt’s villains often show, but something even more sad and hard to swallow.

Audiences tend to like characters that deal with trauma through humor and/or charm. People benefit from these types of characters by laughing at them or lusting over them. There’s nothing wrong with this by any means; that’s all part of the fun of fandom! However, characters that deal with their trauma in ways that are more raw and painful tend to be disliked.

Percy is filled with constant fear that his past will haunt his future. He is convinced that wherever he goes, the darkness will follow and the pain awaits. He has horrible nightmares and lives with incessant paranoia, yet faces the deadliest monsters, demons, gods, etc with nothing but his wit and a gun. He can't stop inventing, not just to glorify himself but to protect everyone. He’s so many things at once, which is what makes him so real and complex and fascinating.

Molly/Kingsley’s story is about wondering who you truly are and not meeting expectations of those you care about. Imagine that you’re not the only one comparing yourself to someone else; all your friends are too. You’re trying to figure out what defines you while feeling like everyone you know wants you to be someone else. His story is also filled with questions about nihilism and whether or not anything truly matters, including identity.

Ashton represents the endless loneliness of abandonment and feeling like no matter what you do, those you love will never care about you as much as you care about them. He pushes people away and acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world while simultaneously doing everything he can to grip onto his friends. He is jealous of Laudna for the way she died because it showed how loved she was, and how sick is that? To be jealous of someone’s death? To try and force someone to admit that they haven’t gotten over their issues because you can’t accept that it’s possible to overcome yours? What's wrong with you? If it’s possible for people to do that, why can't you? What’s wrong with you? Why is it so hard for you when it seems so easy for others? What’s wrong with you? They represent not just the physical, but the emotional chronic pain that most people don’t have to think about every day.

I have so much more to say about these amazing characters, but that would take an entire novel. They emotionally bleed all over the place. While they can still be lighthearted and humorous at times, they’re often really messy in various ways. But that doesn’t stop them from being so loving and wonderful at the same time!

TL;DR, Taliesin’s characters are incredible and I’m so grateful that he is willing to play them in such a raw and real way for those of us that aren’t always funny or charming enough about our trauma to make society like us.

#I had to get this out of my system #It's so long and I cut so much out #TALIESIN JAFFE I LOVE YOU #critical role #percy de rolo #mollymauk tealeaf #kingsley tealeaf #ashton greymoore #look at my lovely little blorbos #taliesin jaffe #his characters are always my favorite

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loversj0y · 10 months

Note

OMG THE SONG MINE FOR THE TAYLOR EVENT WOULD BE SO GOOD

congrats on 200 btw, you deserve it <3

mine

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

tws: reader has parent issues pog

notes: this one probably took the longest bc of my brain not working, but i do like how it turned out :3

word count: 1.2k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy

You weren’t afraid to admit that you were scared of love. It wasn’t love you were really scared of after all. No, you yearned for love, for something real. But you were scared of falling in love for a multitudes of reasons. You’d seen how quickly love can crash and burn, and how it could leave one person deserted in a whirlwind of heartbreak and loneliness. So you were afraid to fall in love, terrified of giving someone that power over you. You’d seen how it worked out for your parents.

The first time you met Wilbur, it was at a small restaurant on the outskirts of town where you’d go when you needed some quiet. He was your waiter, and since there was no one else, he was very attentive, joking and laughing with you. He wrote his number on the edge of your receipt, and ever since, you and him had been close friends.

You remembered your first date, and you thought about it often. At the time, you hadn’t even realized you were on a date. You and him went to the beach at night, sitting in the dark and staring out at the Brighton sea. You had been stunned when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but it was easy to fall into his embrace. He kept his arm around you the entire night, even when he walked you home. The only time he let go was when he dropped you off to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

At first, you’d been terrified of loving him. But it came easily to you, as careful as you were. Before you knew it, the two of you were an almost inseparable duo, constantly around each other, joking and laughing. Your first kiss felt like a headrush, and you’d been addicted ever since.

Things weren’t completely easy. As you got closer and your relationship got more serious, you ended up moving into Wilbur’s apartment. What started as a drawer in his closet of your things turned into sharing the closet equally. It was a big step, and it made you incredibly anxious, but Wilbur was always there to quiet your fears with the touch of his hand. As two struggling college students who knew nothing about life or how to live it, you did a pretty good job at making a comfortable life for yourselves. As more time went on, you always thought back to that first night, when you allowed your heart to overtake your fears, and you wondered if he thought back to that night too.

It was two years from then now. You hated to admit how shocked you were that the two of you had lasted this long. You ended up finding a house to rent together, now that both of you had full careers post-university. But more growth also meant more tension and more fights.

You dropped your bag off as you walked in, sighing softly. It was late, you had just closed at work, so it was nearly two AM. You went to the kitchen, opening the fridge. It was almost completely empty. You groaned softly.

You felt Wilbur’s arms wrap around your back as you stood up.

“Hi, darling,” he kissed the side of your head, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you smiled slightly, “Did you go grocery shopping?”

“No, I didn’t have time. I ran late tonight.” You sighed, “I just wish you would’ve told me. I could’ve stopped on my way home.”

He laughed, “Darling, it’s two AM. I don’t even like you walking around this late, let alone going to the grocery on your own at this time.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t eaten, so it would’ve at least been nice to know.” You didn’t mean to sound so upset, but you couldn’t help the tense edge that filled your voice.

He pulled his arms away, and you turned to look at him.

“Love, you can’t possibly be blaming this on me. You’re not the only one who works a lot.”

“I’m not blaming you, Wilbur. I’m just annoyed right now.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re blaming me.” Wilbur was tense too. You knew that his job was making him more stressed as well, but honestly, you weren’t thinking straight.

“Wilbur. Let’s not do this right now-”

“No, we should. You know how much work has been pushing me lately,” Wilbur argued.

“I know that, Wilbur, but you’re not the only one! Work stresses me out too, but if you asked me to pick up the groceries, I would figure out a way to do it!”

“It’s not like I forgot! I had things to do!”

“So do I, and now, I’m home and all I was looking forward to was coming home and having a good meal! And now I can’t, so I’m allowed to be a bit pissed off!”

“I get that, but that doesn’t mean you come in acting like it’s my fault!”

“I’m just tired of feeling like the only one who does shit around here!” Tears sprung to your eyes as you yelled back. You hated this, the yelling, the fighting, all of it. It reminded you of your parents. “We wouldn’t even live here if it weren’t for me! I’m tired too!”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You stormed out the door, crying and running out into the empty street. At some point during your conversation, it had started raining, and you hadn’t even noticed it. You stood there in the street, letting the rain wash the anger out of you, and just felt upset. It was over. You knew it was over. This was how it ended for your parents. Screaming and fighting and walking out. And you just fulfilled the prophecy.

As you were bracing yourself for the goodbye, you were shocked to feel arms wrapping around you.

“Wilbur?”

He held you tightly, and you could hear slight sniffles from him, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I never wanted to make you cry, I just, I’ve been so stressed, but I never meant to take it out on you.”

You turned, hugging him back tightly, “I’m sorry, too. I just got overwhelmed, and work sucked today,” you admitted softly, relaxing in his arms.

After a few minutes of silence and just holding each other, you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Do you remember our first date? At the beach?”

You chuckled quietly, nodding, “Yeah. I think about it every day.”

He smiled, holding you closer, “I think about it a lot too. How much changed because I decided to just finally make a move. I remember how it felt, I was so scared you’d just push me off. Everytime I look at you, I remember how ecstatic I felt when you leaned into me.”

He pulled away, but only so he could lean down and kiss you gently.

“I still don’t know if I deserve you. I’m shocked you ever fell for me, darling, but I’d be the biggest fool to ever do something that could jeapordize that. I don’t know how you’re mine, but you are. You are mine, and I am yours. And you are the best thing I’ve ever been so lucky to be able to call mine.”

You cried again, but these tears were happy ones, clinging onto him tightly.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, darling. Now, let’s head in. Go shower and clean up, and I’ll order some food in, does that sound good?”

You nodded softly, “Yeah, thank you, Wilbur.”

He walked you in, and you had one thought on your mind. You were so lucky to be able to call him yours.

#mar's 200 follower event #mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #dsmp x reader #lovejoy

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