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bluehwale · 2 years

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not what i wanted, but what we need | c.s.

summary. are breakups usually this hard? you don't know the answer to that – choi san is your first love and your first ever heartbreak.

pairing. idol! san x trainee! reader

word count. 1k ish

genre. don't be fooled by the header because this is ANGST (my fave genre <3 don't ask <3), established relationship! breakup! that's it. just angst. san cried. you cried. yeah.,, i wrote this while listening to day6's so let's love so it'd probably heighten your reading experience if you listen to it as well

note. this is my first ever writing since i was 13 so pls ! lower ! your ! expectations ! i wrote this in one sitting and it's like three am so forgive me if you notice any grammatical errors,,,, ily, hope u enjoy!! (psssst btw,, my asks are open for just about anything rlly)

masterlist

"Don't say that."

"_____, listen to me," San pleads, desperately clinging onto his hold on your wrists that you're struggling to escape from, frantically shaking your head over what he just said. "Please. Listen to me."

If his previous statement didn't already painfully clutch at your chest, the sight in front of you definitely would. It's a rare occurence to see the boy cry – not because he lacks the emotional bandwidth to do so, but because he strives to always be the source of joy for others around him. Seeing him strain himself to not let the gathered tears on his waterline fall forces the lump in your throat to grow in size, lodging a sick feeling in your chest that worsens the shortness of your breath. Still, you won't, can't, let him go without putting up a fight. "I won't hear you. You don't mean that."

You don't even notice the tears that slipped out your eyes until San shifts to place his thumbs on each side of your cheek to wipe them away. The corner of his lips curl into a shaky smile as his pupils trace over every detail of your face, as if this would be the last time he gets to see you.

"We both know this day would come," he softly starts, gently brushing his thumb back and forth in hopes of comforting you. Much to your distaste, your body instinctively reacts as it always does to his touch; calming down your rapid breaths to a slower pace. "We're not supposed to last and you know that."

There's a crack to his voice as he said it, as if he himself understood perfectly the implication of his words but refuses to let the fact that it's happening right now sink in. His head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to caress the underside of your face and pull you closer to him. His smile morphs into a crushed expression at a closer look of your face, the realization that he'll probably never get used to the absence of you and your warmth causing a tick to his jaw.

"But I love you," you say, hoping the three words reign enough as a reason to make him stay. You edge closer to him, feeling your hands inch to wrap underneath his arm and rest your head against his chest, memorizing the thrum of his heartbeat.

"I love you," you repeat.

"So do I. So do I, angel. I love you so much, you have no idea." San cradles the back of your head to his chest, placing his chin atop your head, letting your bodies bask in each other's embrace.

"But we know we'll get tired of this. The hiding, the distance, the waiting," he continues. "We could barely keep up with video calls and texts while I'm away, and with your upcoming debut, we'll barely have any time for that."

As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. Ever since his debut a couple months ago, you barely see each other due to his busy schedule and him flying overseas. You can see through the exhaustion he tries to hide in video calls when he forces himself to stay awake just to see you. You're so unimaginably happy for him to finally achieve his dream of debuting, but a selfish part of you hates it for taking him away from you.

But you get it. You understand. You have the same dream as his after all.

You peer up at him, your teary eyes unblinking while you drink in his soft eyes and prominent dimples as he flashes you a small smile. The silence tells him that you agree to what he said, as much as it pains you.

"So this is it then?" you whisper, grasping the back of his shirt tightly, in fear of eventually having to let it go. To let him go.

"We'll still be there for each other," San rasps, a choked out sound that barely escapes his throat. He's trying his hardest to hold back his tears and puts up a show of maintaining the smile on his face that you know is for your sake. To show you that everything is going to be alright. That, maybe, just as this relationship isn't meant to last, then this break wouldn't last either. "I'll always be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'm here."

This is goodbye.

You feel yourself losing your composure again at his words, your features strained and breathing ragged. A choked laugh erupts from you as you sniffle, using the underside of your wrist to wipe away at your eyes and backing away from his hold. "San, you're making me cry harder."

San internally frowns at the removal of your body from being molded against his, but lets out a chortle at your remark for the sake of maintaining a semblance of normalcy. "Sorry for that."

You look at the man in front of you, the only man you've ever known to love. You don't think you'll ever stop loving him.

"I'll always love you," San wins the unspoken race of saying it first, provoking you to playfully roll your still teary eyes at him which he smiles at. "I'll bring you everywhere with me, right here." he grasps at the left side of his chest – at his heart. "You'll always have a place in me."

"You're everything to me," he breathes.

"You are to me too," you mutter softly. You then jokingly bring your fist to punch at his upper arm, eliciting a dramatized groan from him. "Don't forget about me now that you're famous."

Translation: I'll always love you too.

His curled eyes remain hollow even though he showcases a wide grin at your teasing and its underlying meaning, his dimples carving deeper into his skin. He's back to adopting the cheery persona he's used to, although he knows he'll never be the same. "Shut up, you know I'll always be your number one fan."

Translation: I'll wait for you. For us to happen again. Someday.

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atomicradiogirl · 2 months

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here are my favorite quotes from dune messiah cause frank herbert cooked so hard

“save your praise for those who can be swayed by it”

“beloved,” she whispered. “have i troubled you?” her arms enclosed his future as they enclosed him. “not you,” he said. “oh… not you.”

“paul saw the moon become an elongated sphere. it rolled and twisted, hissing — the terrible hissing of a star being quenched in an infinite sea. it was gone. no moon. the earth quaked like an animal shaking its skin.”

“the flesh surrenders itself. eternity takes back its own.”

“they’ve blinded my body, but not my vision”

“awakening, she’d found paul sitting beside her, his eyeless sockets aimed at some formless place beyond. chani stilled a fit of trembling when he aimed those eyeless sockets at her.”

“i was baptized in sand and it cost me the knack of believing. who trades in faiths anymore? who’ll buy? who’ll sell?”

“we have eternity, beloved.” “you may have eternity. i only have now.” “but this is eternity.”

“he felt his body through her touch: dead flesh carried by time eddies. he reeked of memories that had glimpsed eternity. Past and Future became simultaneous.”

“you cannot see!” “i don’t need eyes to see you.”

“if you need something to worship, then worship life—all life, every last crawling bit of it! we’re all in this beauty together!”

“this myth he’d made out of intricate movements and imagination, out of moonlight and love, out of prayers older than Adam, and gray cliffs and crimson shadows, laments and rivers of martyrs—what had it come to at last? when the waves receded, the shores of Time would spread out there clean, empty, shining with infinite grains of memory and little else. was this the golden genesis of man?”

“there are problems in this universe for which there are no answers.”

“people are subordinate to government, but the ruled influence the rulers.”

“he is the fool saint, the golden stranger living forever on the edge of reason.”

#dune #dune messiah #paul atreides #chani kynes #duncan idaho #frank herbert #i read all of dune messiah today #had to type those quotes out manually since i read it on paperback #5 star read #so so good #dune messiah might be the best book sequel ever #so many thoughts #the writing is so good #i’m so locked in for dune part 3 #dune part 2

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shares-a-vest · 1 month

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@flufftober Spring Edition Day 6: Sharing a Blanket

wc: 549 | Rated: T for suggestive language and flirtatious banter | cw: None

Tags: Quiet Night In, Getting Interrupted, Future Fic (early-00's), Steddie Dads, Teen Daughter

Note: idk this one might skirt the line of fluff. The start is more silly-fluff and gets a tad angsty.

'Breaking Up with a Grade-A Dork'

“Gimmie,” Eddie commands, all but lunging at Steve to pluck his glasses from his nose.

“Wha-Eddie!” he splutters, kicking up the blanket they are sharing with enough force, it sends a skittish Meatloaf bolting for his safe haven under the couch.

“Your glasses are always so dirty,” Eddie grumbles, vigorously rubbing the spectacles with the bottom of his shirt and ignoring the chaos he has caused.

Steve would shoot something back, but Eddie’s cleaning routine exposes some skin. Flesh that is still easily seen (and ogled) at their close proximity. A little paunch of a belly and a thin trail of hair that goes down, way down and disappears under a teasingly thin pair of sweatpants –

“– Like what ya see, sweetheart?” Eddie chimes.

His voice is a little too loud for a quiet and cozy evening on the couch where American Idol plays forgotten on the television in front of them.

Steve looks up, startled as Eddie now begins some silly rolling motion of his stomach muscles and meets him with greedy eyes and a wiggling brow.

“Maybe,” Steve shrugs, pouting as he snatches up the admittedly, clean glasses.

He puts them back on and runs a hand through his hair, flashing a smirk.

“Steven…” Eddie pretends to warn as Steve leans in and puckers his lips, “We… um…”

But he trails off just as Steve bats his lashes.

“This is going to go on for hours,” Steve bargains, nodding to the television without breaking Eddie’s gaze as he lowers his voice to a whisper, “Ryan Secrest can’t wrap up the results show to save his life.”

“It’s…” Eddie whispers, his gaze flitting to Steve’s lips, “The commercials.”

He closes the gap between them, pressing a soft kiss to his partner’s lips, figuring they’ll start slow –

At least Steve intends on initiating their typical – alone – primetime TV makeout session. But the front door bursts open to reveal Joanie, home far too early and looking more than a little displeased for a routine date night.

“I broke up with James,” she huffs, flinging her handbag in the vague direction of the hatstand before she all but charges to the couch.

Eddie gasps, flopping back onto his couch cushion.

“Steve,” he stage-whispers, sounding desperate as he scrambles to untangle the blanket between them, “I’m not prepared for this.”

“I wasn’t even ready for her first boyfriend,” he shoots back, making room for their daughter who, by the looks of her disgruntled frown, appears not all that heartbroken.

Steve adjusts the throw-over blanket to mask his words but Joanie isn’t listening, instead perking up at the sight of television.

“Well, I’m glad,” Eddie mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “Dude was a grade-A dork – here, Munchkin!”

He smoothes out the throw-over, patting it down for good measure as he shuffles closer, squishing them all tight together on their generous couch.

Steve meets his daughter’s eyes, the big brown orbs growing glassier by the second as her initial nonchalance begins to fade away.

“Tell us what happened,” he says, placing his arm around her.

Grade-A dork on not, James was a perfectly acceptable boyfriend – a nice boy wholly deserving of their daughter’s affection.

Joanie snuggles in under the throw-over, squeezing him back and sniffles.

#might write a sequel to this #in my head joanie breaks up with james over something really petty and silly (she IS gremlin man eddie munson's daughter after all)#fluffspring2024 #day 6 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie as girl-dads #steddie dads

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marlynnofmany · 6 months

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Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

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an-entity-i-think · 1 year

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Sequel to "I Have A Secret"

When the magical creature finally dropped, everything paused for the tiniest of moments.

Well, paused for Merlin who had a small moment to breath in relief that he stopped the creature right before it was about to swipe Arthur with a fatal blow.

Sir Kay, on the other hand, who saw the incriminating golden eyes like everyone else in the small group, didn't pause at all, turned his body towards Merlin already preparing to swipe his sword.

"No!" Gwaine yells from too far away.

Ducking quickly, barely missing the sharp edge, Merlin doesn't even stutter before running to Arthur and then hiding behind him while breathing heavily as he stands back to back with the prince while curling his hands into the cloth of the blonde's breeches.

Arthur finally blinks and seems to unfreeze from where he'd stood since he'd almost been killed by the beast and then saved by his apparently magical manservant.

"Huh."

He surveys the situation.

Merlin has magic and is currently hiding behind him. Sir Leon is looking at them unsure, Sir Gwaine looks like he's ready to kill Sir Kay and also maybe him or Merlin by the way he keeps looking at them.

Feeling the trembling warmth pressed against his back, he very calmly lifts his sword.

"Gentleman. What seems to be the problem?"

He pointedly keeps his sword up in a way that can be used in any direction, but Sir Kay gives him an appalled look anyways, but Leon stares at him for a moment before nodding to himself and putting his sword down.

Sir Gwaine on the other hand, looks at Merlin in frantic worry, looking like he wants to start inching forward.

Arthur feels like Gwaine is probably safe but he doesn't know for sure, so he gives Gwaine a Look anyway which... obviously gives him a scathing glare back.

"Your Highness," Sir Kay looks at him with worry and Merlin (still behind him) with anger, "He's a sorcerer."

Everyone seems to hold their breath in front of him, but Arthur just looks at them for a few more seconds in blankness.

Did they think he just... didn't notice? He squints his eyes.

Looking side to side, Arthur just deadpans, "I mean... yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious with the golden eyes and yelling a spell two seconds ago."

Merlin snorts behind him. The hands still entwined with his breeches seem to loosen as Arthur feels the back against his own start breathing easier.

Arthur's lips try to trick upward, but he tries to keep them down.

Gwaine, still quite clearly running on adrenaline, looks back and forth between them before landing on Merlin, "Merls, are you sure you want to be standing there, right now?"

They both look at him with tilted heads.

Merlin hesitantly replies, "Um... yes?"

His hands squeeze for just a moment, making Arthur frown at Gwaine.

Gwaine, just squints his eyes, before pressing forward, "And you're not scared? You're okay?"

Blinking owlishly, "Uh. I mean. I was scared that Arthur was going to die? And I guess I was scared of Sir Kay for a second. But... I'm doing pretty good..." There's a small pause, "...How are you?"

Sir Leon lets out an uncharacteristic snort before covering his mouth as he tries to hold back a laugh to himself.

Gwaine sputters, "I meant scared of the Princess!"

They, again, both look at him in confusion, "Arthur? Why would I be scared of Arthur?"

Sir Kay and Gwaine both seem to bluster in the same way (for opposite reasons?)

"Cause he's the prince!"

"He's just Arthur."

Arthur makes an offended face, "I'm not JUST anything, Merlin!"

Merlin finally lets go so he can watch him as he smirks, "Oh yeah? What do you want to be instead of Arthur then? I guess if we count a few minutes ago, you can be a damsel in distress instead~"

Arthur looks back at him with a sputter, "You can't talk to me like that! I'll put you in the stocks!"

Merlin just smiles at him mischievously, "Oh of course, Sire. My apologies, Sire. Just maybe you should double check your next stew for vermin instead of bird."

"If you put rats in my stew one more time, I'll make you eat it."

"-oh, going on a diet, Sire? I've been telling you you need it..."

Arthur huffs to himself, putting one hand on his hip while pointing his sword to Merlin with his other, dramatically.

The others skip a breath.

Merlin just rolls his eyes with a bored look like it's happened a million times. (It has)

"I'm going to have the kitchens poison your next meal!"

"Not if I do yours first!"

"At least then I'll have a break from all your prattling!"

Merlin gasps in mock offense as he takes a staggering step back, "How dare you! What about the children?"

Arthur snorts so loud, he drops his sword as he covers his mouth wheezing as Merlin raises his arm in victory and grins like he won something.

"Who are the children?"

Sir Kay interrupts with a disbelieving huff, "Sire. Sorcerer. Against the law."

Arthur looks at him like he's stupid, even though he's the one who looks a little stupid still bent over trying to catch his breath, "It's just Merlin."

Gwaine and Leon share a laugh between themselves, now completely calm, used to the bickering.

"And besides, it's really on me. I didn't ask," Arthur shrugs like this makes complete sense to everyone. He goes to pick his sword back up, as Merlin nods and steps behind him to look over his shoulder with his hands entwined behind him.

Arthur pretends he doesn't miss the warmth, but the breath on his neck is a close second.

"Didn't ask what, Sire?" Leon asks curiously, as he and Gwaine seem to lean forward, even as Sir Kay stays stock still like he's rebooting.

Arthur looked up at him a little startled, "Oh. Merlin told me he had a secret ages ago. I just didn't ask, cause he didn't want me to."

"Wait wait wait- he told you he had a secret?" Gwaine guffaws.

Merlin steps forward to lean his chin on Arthur's shoulder as he wraps his arms around Arthur's waist, "Of course! I try to tell Arthur everything. He's my best friend!"

Arthur pretends he isn't blushing, as he hums noncommittally.

The other three trade glances.

Arthur just nods to himself, even as his free hand absentmindedly holds onto one of Merlin's wrists around his wait.

The other three raise their eyebrows.

"Anyways. Obviously, there will be no speaking of this to my Father." He looks up stern and serious for the first time in this entire conversation.

Leon and Gwaine nod happily, while Sir Kay takes a moment, before nodding reluctantly and murmuring to himself, "I'm repressing this as we speak."

Leon looks at Kay with interest, while Gwaine just watches in amusement as Arthur's blush comes crashing back when he visibly realizes he's been gently caressing Merlin's wrist unconsciously.

Merlin just looks at Gwaine's smirk over Arthur's shoulder, before squeezing Arthur's waist once and letting go to start walking beside him, vehemently trying to hide his own blush now, too.

Both of them start continuing their walk back to the citadel, looking away from each other, even as their arms brush against each other with how close they walk.

The other three follows them casually.

Sir Kay blinks, before turning to Leon with a whisper, "Did I miss something? What happened with the beast?"

Leon just looks at him unable to hide how impressed he is with the skill of Repression, making Sir Kay even more confused, belatedly answering the question, "...Prince Arthur killed the beast, of course."

Sir Kay just blinks, "Of course."

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hjbender · 2 months

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*Implying that the total number of works will only ever be two.

#ao3 #ao3 series #sequels #writing #fanfiction #idk why it but it bothers me to make a whole series just to hold two works #so i use the link method in the summary or notes #i think that series are better suited for 4+ works #after a trilogy it becomes a series. that's my view anyway #i wonder if ao3 would ever make a sequel option. might be too redundant

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achairwithapandaonit · 1 year

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producing content only targeted at me today

#my art #bnha #allnagant #this is how i imagine it in my head when i'm writing my depressing fic about it. i'm like ohhh this is so sad the sequel fic in panda's #head play all might and lady nagant flirting in front of izuku while he stares at them like they're insane

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ccieatchildren · 10 months

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Scars

Shower steam filtered in through the open bathroom door, warming the bedroom and permeating the smell of soap in the air. They had been reapplying ointment, what little he had given them, to their still healing wounds and rebandaging them. Whumpee turned from their spot on the edge of the bed to watch as he walked in. There was a certain swagger to the way he carried himself that they despised. However, while Whumpee hadn’t been here for long, they had already learned not to engage with him if they didn’t have to– it wasn’t worth the risk– so Whumpee just stared.

A towel was slung low around his waist and his hair was still damp, leaving droplets of water in his wake. His half naked body was on full display, and Whumpee couldn’t stop from curiously analyzing each part of him. They typically didn’t get to see much of him due to clothing or dark lighting getting in the way, but now they could see the various scars littering his frame.

There were two slash marks on his lower right abdomen that formed an uneven cross, a line of indented flesh that seemed to encircle his whole left bicep, a bullet wound sat right above on his shoulder, and on his right collarbone were four deep cuts, almost like claw marks. Whumpee hadn’t expected someone like him to have so many cicatrices, he was a simple researcher, and while they did get hurt sometimes, they typically were small cuts from broken glass or chemical burns. They had their own to confirm. Furthermore, normal villains usually had many more lesions and blemishes across their figures from many fights and powers going haywire. Though, he wasn’t like many normal archetypes anyway.

Their train of thought was cut off by a deep chuckle. “Like what you see?”

Whumpee blushed, glaring at him, and turning back to what they were initially doing. He continued to snigger at their embarrassment while they furiously tried to refocus on patching themself up. The thought of the line being cliché and overused made them feel a bit better, and they continued to bash him in their head to calm themself down as they worked.

The rustling of a towel could be heard as he dried off his hair, sounding like a wet dog shaking itself dry. Then, they could hear him shuffling in the background, presumably fetching clothes from the closet. Whumpee tried to keep their gaze solely on what they were doing, but could no longer concentrate on their task. Having been caught staring, and him misinterpreting their attention, irritated them, but now they were even more curious. Forcing themself not to look, only made them want to look more. Whumpee cursed themself for having the self restraint of a five year old…

Slightly pivoting their head to peek at him again as he picked out his attire, they barely managed to stop themself from gasping at the sight. His back was still turned to them, and scrawled there was one of the most unsettling wounds they had ever seen. Along his upper back, spanning from the left shoulder to the right the word “BASTARD” was carved in large letters. The raised skin along his shoulder blades conveyed that the cut had healed long ago, but whoever had done it, made sure to slash deep enough so the mark would stay there forever. They had seen many things, from their own burnt skin melting off, to arms completely torn off, but the deliberately and aggressively engraved swear on his body disturbed them in a way they had never felt before.

Whumpee had never met anyone, villain or otherwise, who intentionally and methodically cut someone in a way that would leave them alive but always wearing a reminder of their experience. Especially in a way that exuded so much wrath and resentment. At least not until Whumper. They looked down at themself and the injuries that adorned their body. Was he using the same techniques on them that someone else had used on him? The thought made them shiver. Vigorously returning to their task, Whumpee swore to themself that they would not allow Whumper to scar them like he had been himself.

— — — — —

“Just ask.”

Whumpee flinched. They had just finished one of their sessions and Whumper decided to patch them up afterwards this time. They would much rather do it themself, as his hands would always roam to places they didn’t need to, but Whumper would use better medicine whenever he played medic, and knew how to bind the wounds tighter than they ever could with their, now constantly, trembling fingers. They also weren’t allowed to say no to him.

“W-What?”

“I can practically hear the questions bouncing around in your head.” He suddenly pulled the bandage harshly, pulling a gasp out from them. “Not to mention the hole you’re burning into my back with your staring.” The hand on their middle considerably tightened, “it’s starting to piss me off, so ask.”

Whumpee contemplated his demand, unsure if he meant it or if it was just another one of his tricks, baiting them to make a mistake just so he could beat them again. But they could feel him getting agitated behind them, therefore they had to say something. However, Whumpee didn’t think asking him what was really on their mind would go over very well. They had to think of something quick, but, unfortunately, when it came to talking they didn’t work very well under pressure. So…

“How do you get your hair so sleek?” Whumpee wanted to smash themself over the head with a glass. This was the best their brain could come up with? Might as well say goodbye to a calm evening.

Whumper was still behind them, and they were already saying their prayers, until he barked out a laugh. “What?” The amusement pervaded his tone. “You have been ruminating for the past three days on how I do my hair?”

“… Yes.”

He continued to cackle behind them as Whumpee quietly panicked, hoping that was enough to quell him.

“Aww, that’s cute, darlin’. Didn’t know you still had the quips in you.” He took a moment to pretend to wipe a tear from his eye. “But I don’t think that’s what you’ve been thinkin’ about.” Arms locked around their waist, pulling them flush against him. A dark voice whispered in their ear, “Now, I’ve indulged your little game,” his arms constricted, pushing into their stomach, agitating their injuries, “letting you figure out the best way to approach this,” Whumpee looked away. “If I’m honest, it was quite nice to see you contemplate whether to ask me or not,” his voice grew smug, “it means you’re learning, becoming more obedient, which will only make things easier for the both of us in the future.” Whumper squeezed even further once again, and they groaned from the pain. “For that, I’m giving you an out. Be good and I’ll reward you. So,” he growled, “ask the damn question.”

Whumpee gulped. “Fine. Ju- Just let go,” they pushed at his arms, “it hurts.”

Whumper clutched them tighter. Whumpee could feel some of their wounds reopen under the pressure. “I’ll let go when you stop wasting my time.”

“Okay, okay,” they wheezed. “I just wanted to know about the large scar on your back,” the ache was getting worse. “The one that says bas–.”

He abruptly let them go, allowing air to filter back into their system and dampening the pain to a dull throb. “I know the one.”

Whumpee froze, trying to suppress their oncoming coughing fit. They didn’t want to set him off when he was obviously very displeased. He curtly got up and headed for the door, leaving them with the final words,

“Do not bring it up again.”

Extra:

Fuck that motherfucking mothafucka.

Whumpee wanted to punch something, they just did what he asked and now he’s mad at them, like it’s their fault.

Fuckin’ hate that fuckin’ kidnappin’ piece of shit. They continued to curse to themself as they finished the job Whumper brusquely left to them. Closing up the now open cuts, applying ointment, and finally bandaging them for the– hopefully– last time that day. Whumpee sighed to themself. Who were they kidding, he would ruin them again at night. But at least they had a new piece of information to exploit.

It may take a while, but they will escape from here and see everyone again.

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ms--lobotomy · 4 months

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Would you be willing to do a peterturabo x reader or mabey a dorn x reader one shot. Or anything, honestly, do whatever you want

(cracks knuckles) (cracks back) (cracks toes) you want peter turbo? you want peter turbo??? well you're in luck because i want peter turbo too. here u go

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summary: your planet just got assimilated into the imperium and perty would like to spend some time with you. fun?

word count: 1071

content warnings: captive romance lol, sorry if that isnt your thing ^^;

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You ran a hand over your abdomen. The pain was still there, like someone twisting a knife in the wound. But there was something underneath the alien robe that you found yourself in. It was a bandage, and a surprisingly soft one at that.

You sighed, your hand trailing down to the cold metal seat. You used to rule a gorgeous planet. In your dull, gray cell you reminisced about your homeworld and its temperate climate and the lush meadows sprawling over the countryside. You were royalty here.

But all of that was gone now. The castle that you had grown up in was now dust on the scarred ground, and the green fields were no more. You'd finally gone into battle on that fateful day with your soldiers--no, your siblings--and watched so many of them get hurt. You watched so many of them fall.

Why couldn't it have been you?

You heard heavy footsteps approach your cell as tears welled up in your eyes. "Go away," you muttered, even though you already knew who this was. He was taller than any human you'd ever seen, even the behemoths that made up your own army. Soon, his imposing figure stood in front of the bars of your cell. He wasn't wearing his normal armor; rather, he wore a robe not much unlike yours, with yellow and black diagonal stripes on his belt. There was a bag over his shoulder as well, dark leather with an ornate pattern on it. His steel gray eyes locked in on you, pragmatic and petulant at the same time.

"You live," he said flatly.

"How do you know my language?" you asked, discreetly wiping the tears from your eyes.

"Primarch's secret," he said. You shuddered at the foreign word, alien against the language that you knew so well. He fiddled with the lock that kept you inside your cell with bare hands. It would be comically large if it weren't so hopelessly complex. After a second or so, he swung the door open.

The door was open! You hiked up the bottom of your robe and made a break for it, frenzied foot after frenzied foot. But before you were able to taste freedom for the first time in hours, you felt two hands around your waist. Your feet escaped the ground, and you found yourself pressed against the cold wall of the ship. You briefly scanned the other cells that you could see. Empty.

"Did you really think you could escape that easily?" he sneered. You were eye level with him now, your face flushed. He looked you up and down before setting you back on the cold ground, barefoot. You clutched at your waist, bent over and winced. The wound was starting to feel like twisting knives again as he dug his hand into your shoulder.

"That's what I thought," he chuckled coldly. You knelt down, almost to get out of his grip, and the hulking Primarch knelt down with you, pressing you into the ground. As he opened the back with another hand, you looked up at him. Puzzled. Processing something that you wouldn't dare admit under normal circumstances.

You liked that.

You glared at your captor. He didn't return your expression, more focused on whatever was in his bag. When he finally got it out of his bag, you recoiled, but his grip only tightened on your shoulder. "Put this on," he said, holding an iron collar attached to a chain in his hand.

"You can put it on yourself," you glowered back at him. "Why don't you just do that?"

This time he let out a full on laugh. "It's more fun to see you do it, darling."

Darling. That word came out of him as if it were nothing. Your fingers brushed up against the collar as you stared intently at it. You felt the Primarch's eyes on you, almost leering at you, almost asking you to taunt him.

"I'll be here as long as I need to," he said, his hand trailing ever so slightly lower on your back.

You let out a huff. Your planet was gone, your soldiers fallen, and you were alone with this giant... superhuman. His words reverberated in your head, eerily fluent in your native tongue. Your fingers clasped the collar gently, then firmly before you hoisted it into the air and flung it onto the cold ground.

The Primarch's eyes widened at this display for a split second before turning back to you. Glowering. He grabbed the collar with his free hand, which was unbent, though there was a dent in the floor of the prison. Roughly he pinned you to the wall and before you could speak, the collar was on you, clasped shut.

You were stunned speechless as the Primarch let go and yanked on the chain. "Come," he said. Your hands clutched at the collar, almost as if to take it off. But once again there was that feeling welling up within you, that feeling you could only describe as liking it.

He started walking forwards, almost dragging you along the dim hallway. "I don't even know your name," you hissed, trying to keep up with the Primarch's long strides. He made no attempt to slow down for you, who was roughly half his size.

"Perturabo," he replied coldly. "And I know who you are, so save me the trouble."

You walked down the halls with him, the cells unpopulated. "I'm the only prisoner you took," you choked out.

"Prisoner is a strong word," he said. "I assure you I plan on making you quite comfortable after our admittedly... faulty meeting."

You paused, trying to take in all of the information that he put forth in those short sentences. You weren't a prisoner? But what was around your neck? He wanted to make you comfortable? What did that even mean?

Before you were done parsing what he had said, you were at the door of the hallway. You saw through a small window two of Perturabo's warriors guarding the door, much taller than yourself. Your tongue caught in your mouth as you tried to say something, anything. Perturabo opened the door, and you took in the warm air and the bustle of the ship you found yourself.

"Welcome to the Imperium of Man," he said, tugging on your chain. And so you began to follow him across this strange spaceship.

#primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #perturabo x reader #reader insert #perturabo #warhammer lobotomy #i went for a darker tone this time but im not sure if it worked?#idk this accounts really just about learning how to write #im illiterate btw #also if yall like this enough im going to write a sequel #or i might write a sequel anyways #teehee

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whatevertheweather · 4 months

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Okay, hi, happy Sunday and new year and whatever else. Thank you for the tags @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @artsyunderstudy @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife <3

So, I'm not one for resolutions, but I did set some writing goals that are mostly do with original writing but do also include me shaking myself by the shoulders and demanding that I finish and post three particular fics this year. To that end, here is something from the last chapter of Musical Chairs, which is first on my list for finishing and kicking out of the nest.

Shepard inclined his head, though most of his expression was devoted to frowning. “That’s literally the bare minimum of what you’ve asked of me.” He huffed and squared his shoulders. “You gave me a two-item list, and I won’t fail you.” “I gave you a three-item list, and you’ve already failed me.” “First, like, how dare you, and also, second, what have I failed?” Baz gestured grandly at himself and raised his eyebrows. “The removal of my consciousness from the mortal plane.”

And you know what, here's another beneath the cut for good luck.

Baz glanced around the table, but no one was paying attention to them. Agatha had turned toward the bar to lure Niamh and Penny back over by holding up a shot and pointing at it, and Simon was backing her up by throwing his arms up and waving them around. It was a monumentally stupid gesture on both their parts, and it was a crime against God and more importantly Baz that they still managed to look unattainably perfect while they did it. Baz shook his head and turned back to Shepard. “Are you matchmaking?” Shepard gave a quick little shrug, excitedly clinking his shot glass against Baz’s. “For now I’m screening.”

Now tags and hellos!

@fatalfangirl @moodandmist @cutestkilla @whogaveyoupermission @facewithoutheart @martsonmars @forabeatofadrum @run-for-chamo-miles @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @nightimedreamersworld @youarenevertooold @ivelovedhimthroughworse

#you might think it'd help that two out of three of these fics are nearly done #this does not seem to be the case #but we're getting there #gotta get this and keep workin at corb and then I'm comin for you brazen sequel #six sentence sunday #my writing

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iwaasfairy · 13 days

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so we all wanna see more uncle gojo huh

#might mess around and drabble him until I can write another full fic #I keep promising fics w good intentions pHFJFJFJ sadly I only have two hands to write and a single brain #fucKK #im thinking of him tho I AM I AMMMM #the poll just convinced me on doing a kinda sequel #I wanna #maybe some fresh new kinks #I feel like uncle satoru would get off on full voyeurism and also cucking but w him being the one fucking her #and branding and just being a gross molesting lil freak #highkey #ring ring #tw.incest

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o0anapher0o · 5 months

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So I’ve mostly been lurking in the rwrb fandom but I’ve seen some discussions about what the sequel could look like so I thought I’d throw in my two cents:

Cold open with the proposal. Dealer’s choice who, how and where (Paris seems an obvious choice, but also, well, rather obvious, dare I say a bit on the nose). Bonus points if Nora, Pez and/or Bea are somehow involved.

General background for the film would be Alex and Henry’s big fat royal wedding (I know in the book Henry left the royal family but from a narrative pov that would be wasting so much material). The wrinkled white racists at Buckingham Palace obviously come up with the most absurd obstacles and demands giving the boys plenty of opportunities to be adorably mutually supportive and cute. Or bang out their frustration.

One plot line could involve Alex getting princess diaried and finally being forced into those desperately needed etiquette lessons. I imagine Shaan is heavily, long-sufferingly involved (Zarah sends some very creative threats should Alex damage her boyfriend). Alex, of course, fights tooth and nail against any bit of royal protocol the point of which cannot be explained to him by anything other that ' that’s how we do it‘. Because is not a good enough reason for him to do stupid stuff. As a fellow English lit major I have a strong need for Henry to remind his grandfather that 'great customs curtesy to great kings' and maybe the royal protocols need some updates (they really, really do) and if the king can’t change then then who can?

Another plot line could centre around Philipp noticing that Henry is feeling some kind of way about certain people on the guest list. The 'I had my first time with one of my big brother’s friends when I was 17‘ bit wasn’t in the movie, but given we’ve only heard a fraction of those 72 emails it wouldn’t be a stretch to say it was in there. Pip could regain some of Alex's and Bea's trust as they work together to find out who took advantage of Henry (they eventually realise the person to ask is obviously Pez, but getting him to spil takes some convincing). Philipp concludes his redemption arc in the grand finale of the film by punching the guy at the reception, causing a major scandal at his brother’s wedding thus making them even. Alex and Pez shameless cheer, Henry is surprised but very touched.

And then they lived happily ever after (until part 3)

#I'm not opposed to a secret ceremony just for them but it might become a bit much #unfortunately i don't have the energy to write a full fic of this #but i have no doubt a sequel is coming #amazon may be many things but they're not know to waste opportunities to make more money #rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrb sequel #sequel speculation #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox

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redraven3093 · 9 months

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evil brain bits in coming

what if, instead of Chayanne that come to worship the blood god like his hero Technoblade it was Tallulah instead.

Chayanne for all of his claim to one day would become as great as the great Technoblade, he had never even consider to become a servant to the blood god like Techno, because as the son of the Angel of Death of course he would be under the protection of Kristin goddes of death.

Chayanne is a strong kid mind you, there is no doubt that one day he would achieve his dream of becoming a great warrior and or Hero, Philza had made sure to train his young son to be able to protect himself and those around him, be the great champion Philza always believe he will be.

but not like Techno never like his idol.

because Philza would never let his son be under the same care and madness of the Blood God.

but Tallulah in the other hand, sweet fragile weak little flower Tallulah could never be as strong as Chayanne, she always the one that have to be protected always the one to be left behind as all of her siblings fight tooth and nails for their survival while she stood back and stare.

Philza of course teach her some things, the Angel would never let anyone under his care unable to weild a sword, but his lessons for her was never like the ones he gave Chayanne, sweet and caring grandpa Philza would rather have her not fight at all if he could have his way.

for once she wishes to be strong, to be able to protect to be useful just like Chayanne.

(we can help you/ you want to be strong little girl?/ Let us HELP/ yes BE Strong/ Do you want OUR HELP)

she listened to The Voices that talks to her in her darkest times.

follow every step that they told her to in order to gain the power that they promised to her.

she harden her heart to the pittiful cry of one of her Venus

the sacrifice she must pays was nothing in comparison to the one that she will gain.

in the darkest part of the land when the moon rise to crimson red, the Children of the Blood God, THE VOICES wellcome another to their teachings.

( WELCOME OUR DEAR TALLULAH OUR NEW BLOOD QUEEN )

the once warm hazel eyes had turn the same Crimson red that shines on the sky

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rioblitzle · 15 days

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i guess im not too involved in the zelda fandom cause seeing a post about rabid totk defenders is wild to me. from my perspective people were singing that game's praises for 2 months total before it fell to the "popular game bad actually" criticism wave and i don't think i've seen anyone say positive things about totk since then lmfao

#maybe it's just twitter's algorithm showing me discourse and criticism to try and spark engagement or whatever #ive experienced the same thing with mario odyssey which sucks cause i DID get into that game well after release but whatever #i think the game has plenty of flaws but is still like. one of the best games on the switch and that's not an insult to the switch #and most of my writing issues are 'well this sucks but also makes reasonable sense within the constraints of the game design'#like the lack of sheikah tech or the repetition with the backstory cutscenes with the sages #ive also never been super interested in trying to piece together the timeline or linked universe fan stuff but that might just be me #i feel like botw/totk is way better when you view it as a retelling of the zelda universe and give up on trying to reason with the timeline #for making a direct botw sequel on the same map w the same formula and still trying to make it fresh they knocked it out of the park imo #at least in regards to gameplay?#i acknowledge that there is a MASSIVE flaw in the non linear gameplay clashing w the linear story cutscenes this time #(... but that one didn't personally affect me since i saw the memories in mostly the right order and the story hit me weirdly hard)#but anyways yeah where are all the mean totk defenders i keep hearing about i thought that game fell out of the public consciousness #all i still see about it is NintendoMarioJimmy47536 on twitter calling it 'mid af' or whatever #and occasional gorgeous paintings of the light dragon on my dash

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theangrypomeranian · 3 months

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me since November: I miss Baby Steps 😞

me at work today remembering that there are still Zeke POVs and smut scenes from BS that I can write:

#pom ponders #writing stuff #fanfic #casual affection au #baby steps #look...i might be a lil dumb lol #i was rereading chapter 12 and was like man i wanna Zeke’s pov then was like HEY WAIT A MINUTE #also all their sexy times that i faded to black #i can write that!#i don't have to miss it anymore because it's not over!#(yes i know i need to start the sequel shhhhh I'm not ready lol)

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peblezq · 1 year

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I had such whiplash today

I recently got back into reading Stucky fanfic again and was browsing ye olde ao3 and stumbled on this great 21 jump street AU where Steve and Bucky are undercover cops in a high school. It was incomplete before it can even get to the good stuff. But the setup was so well done that I was enthralled and then utterly distraught when I realized it hadn't been updated since 2020...

Then I saw the user profile and realized.... oh shit. I wrote this.

TL DR; I bamboozled myself. I was the villain all along

#i have the entire fic outlined too #so like theoretically i could simply continue where I left off #but i am also working on a house md/supernatural crossover #and the sequel to my book series published on amazon #but like sure #i might update it again just because i actually really enjoy what ive written so far #its really nice reading my old writing #having forgotten that i even wrote it in the first place #it hits different #stucky #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel au #21 jump street #au fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic writer problems #pebs rambles

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