#my focus was faceless and colors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whocaresstillthelouvre · 3 days

Text

Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad?

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.”

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you.

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits.

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier.

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship.

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode.

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this.

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.”

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor.

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you.

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you.

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?”

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him.

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?”

He nods.

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand.

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin.

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?”

His helmet nods in your hold.

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty.

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have that power over you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?”

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together.

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole.

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance.

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself.

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?”

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know.

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand.

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt.

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure.

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night.

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him.

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted.

“Brightly.”

“Can I make you shine bright for me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now.

He nods.

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean.

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship.

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?”

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.”

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons.

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.”

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down.

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.”

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good.

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin.

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now.

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later.

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in.

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat.

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth.

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him.

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp.

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs.

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it.

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole.

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him.

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer.

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body.

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor.

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you.

#din djarin fic #din djarin ff #Mandalorian fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian ff #din djarin one shot

164 notes · View notes

shyrose57 · 9 months

Text

Hey, uh, where's my Pirates SMP Fic where Scott's crew gets a quest to transport the Runeblade somewhere?

Where's my story where they're all out at sea for an unforeseeable time, sailing to distant lands, trapped on the ship with a sword they don't realize is more than it seems until it's far too late to turn back. Trapped with memories they don't know what to do with, and ghosts they never meant to invite onboard.

Scott sets the sword beside his bed, wrapped in it's careful cloth per the specific instructions from the harried collector. It's tucked away carefully, more carefully than even he is prone to, for reasons he can't explain.

Is that care why he wakes choking in the night, spitting up blood, and reaching out hands to yank the blade from his chest only to realize nothing is there, and the thick crimson spilling from his mouth has left no stain?

Is that why the pale dried petals in one of the many books on board slip into red and reform into a flower being tucked behind his ear, by a man in blue, a man in green, a man wearing a wedding ring. He thinks my husband before he thinks stranger, except when he goes to stand nobody is there, and the petals are still tucked between the pages.

Cleo eyes it warily, when it's brought aboard, but thinks nothing more of it, and maybe her carelessness is why she doesn't pay attention when the first flashes begin, just the barest hint of color shifting in the corner of her eye that she passes off as a trick of the light.

Then she turns her head and finds Scott's sprouted fins at his head, red streaked in his hair. A faceless figure behind him raises their sword, and she shrieks and slams into them, only to fall through and tackle her captain instead.

She leans back against the mast, and green flashes beside her, a toothy grin she smiles back at, a name on the tip of her tongue dying as Olive's face comes into focus, smile much softer, and the moss she swore made up their coat vanishes. She can't remember who else she thought it was going to be. She thinks it was someone she would've died for.

Owen has other priorities, and unless he's asked, he doesn't see the need to worry about it. And then, she spills some expensive wine he'd sweet-talked from a Kestrel's hands on the ground, and the exasperation is, for a moment, overwritten by terror. The liquid darkens and the scent of iron makes him reel back for a single moment, before she blinks and it's just....wine again.

He stumbles his way to the ship's side, not nearly drunk enough to wash away the unease in his heart, and double takes at her reflection, now blond and boyish, a warm brown jacket tucked around them tight in the chilly air. Someone calls her name behind him, except it's not his name, it can't be, so fundamentally wrong when the boy staring back at her would never know it was supposed to be his. It takes Water's hand at his shoulder before she responds.

Olive thinks the sword is curious, but that's the extent. Until, at least, the world wobbles under their feet, and the door to the captain's cabin suddenly seems impossibly tall, how are they possibly meant to get in there, they can't reach-

It's utterly nonsensical. It keeps happening. The ship lurches, their heart flutters in terror, for surely they'll be tossed into the walls, and they shake to realize they somehow stayed on their feet. Cruppy prods at their hands, concerned at their behavior, but it's not Cruppy, it's something else that's edges fade too fast for them to grasp. A shadow looks wrong along the ground, and it lunges for them, and they almost goes overboard trying to get away from some phantom that isn't there.

Eloise blinks back sleep from her eyes, not even thinking of the sword in the midst of her crew's strangeness, up until an absolutely beautiful shark swims beneath their boat, and the whole crew watches in quiet appreciation. She spins on her heel, goes to spill forth something that she knows in her heart will be just as pretty but the words don't come out how she wants them to, falling like flat notes in an off-tune song, and she's not even sure what she was trying to do when it's done.

She splits her hand cleaning a sword, and opens her mouth to call for Cleo, even though Owen is mere feet from her and already going for the bandages. The words catch in her throat anyway, when she sees her there with Scott, and the sunlight spins across orange locks turned greenish-ebony, and a tattered overcoat becomes a gorgeous, elegant dress that has no place on a pirate ship, and-and she averts her eyes trying to make sense of the sudden wish to be half as strong as the strangers that had stood where her friends were as Owen helps wrap her hand.

Water dreams. Oh, how she dreams. She dreams of a world where a single red heart hums on her wrist, and knows with a terrible sureness that she won't come back should she misstep here. But that means little, not when the warm earth beneath her fingers settles there so beautifully. Not when the food she pulls from the earth is so ripe, waiting to be torn into and devoured.

She wakes up, and steps from her bed, half-expecting the world to fall out from under her where it flashes gold for a moment, and stumbling for it. A phantom weight twitches at her back, and she greens at the smell of the sea for one, strange second, wondering where the flowers are. She comes back to herself, and tries to shake it off.

They all try to shake it off.

Scott's eyes are not green, or yellow, or red. He makes no noise when Cleo slams him to the floor with a protective snarl, aiming for some opponent no longer there to strike him. He waits for Owen to blink back to herself, and realize Scott cannot do whatever it is he thinks he can, does not know magic the way she sometimes is assured he does. And they quietly disperse the phantoms they catch him begging to in the night without a word, correct him when he inquires after a different brother than the one he has, half-asleep.

Olive is not small. But they are not shoved off when they desperately grasp at Eloise's arms, or tries to steady themselves against Water, when the world seems too big. And they take Water's hands when she scrabbles for the deck, digging at wood until it bloodies her hands, holding them until the other remembers they are at sea. When Eloise grabs for something that isn't there, and goes to jump ship at a flash of pink in the water, Olive pulls her back, and calls her name until she knows herself again.

They try to shake it off, and they utterly fail.

The Runeblade leaves it's mark. Even once it's tossed to it's next owner at their destination by Scott's too cold hands. The dreams fade, but still sit, waiting for them to doze and come awake crying out. The ghosts fall back to the corner of their vision, stepping forward when they make the mistake of wavering, with names they shouldn't know on their lips, and promises none of them ever managed to keep spilling forth.

Give the story, where a wretched quest changes them at their cores in a way they never anticipated.

#pirates smp #scurvyblr #scott smajor #empires smp #ish #zombiecleo

187 notes · View notes

serene-sun · 11 months

Text

Copia and self insert

You groan, the awful feeling in your lower intestines making your breath hitch.

Papa shoots you a look from his seat beside the hospital bed.

“zucchero?” He looks up from his book to you, a look of concern underneath his skull makeup.

“My…stomach.” You blurt out, as if maybe breathing would make the pain worse.

At this point, breathing, talking, even thinking makes everything ten times worse. It had only been the second night here, in this bright white hospital room. The Tv was so fuzzy you could only make out a few words, but at-least having the back ground noise of a faceless man selling old people cheap jewelry for more was something to focus on other than the distant feeling in your gut.

Disgust. Failure. Disappointment. And worse of all; shame.

People always say a hospital smells like pure death, well they were half right. It wasn’t a smell, the only thing you could smell was alcohol from cleaning pads. God it be a sin if any nurse or doctor that provoked you all night and day with pills smell in the slightest like roses or tulip. You’d rather smell their body Oder.

Maybe that was another reason why you liked Copia being there, he was a godsend of all things faithful.

He smelled of light red wood, and a hint of incense and candle smoke. And all of the sudden, black is a color. He was the only one wearing that dark frilly shirt and black vest, surrounded by pink and blue scrubs.

The everything white theme was about to make you go insane if the constant beeping monitor beside you didn’t first.

“Ah si, I believe it’s from all of the medicine in your system my dear.” Copi stands up to be with you at your bed, “not treating your tummy very well eh?”

He places his hand on yours, holding it tightly. You look at it, how pale and purplish it had gone. You wince catching a glimpse of the tape holding down the IV in your wrist.

“Well amore, it’s not just you who wants you out of here as soon as possible.” Copia pats your hand, with a little click of his tongue, “the ghouls miss you terribly, you know they will cuddle you to death once we return.”

I only make a small noise in return. The feeling of his warm hand is nice, he had taken off his gloves.

You hate the silence, “where’s your gloves off to?”

“I-“ copia thinks before he speaks, as if he might regret it, “I thought maybe you needed something that wasn’t latex gloves, just to you know…” copia awkwardly looks away.

“Thank you.” I also look away, the room sure is boring besides a vase of flowers and a painting.

“So…I uhm…wanted to ask.” Copia sounds as if he doesn’t to trust in his words, like he doesn’t know if they will come out appropriate or not. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”

Copia makes a hand gesture saying enough, then pushes his lips together.

He stays silent, “but…you know I’m here for you. Everything you go through, I am behind you and I am here to support you.” He looks at you and tries to smile.

“Like a brick wall.” He adds, trying to lighten up his push for answers.

I look at him, and I start to feel a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t think that your weak, but I don’t think that with how deeply you love me that you could handle it.”

“I promise you bambino, if it’s for you, I’ll do anything.”

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #ghost band #serene sun writes #cardinal copia #papa iv #copia x reader

93 notes · View notes

kedsandtubesocks · 11 months

Text

Go Play Your Video Games

Summary: As a small time gaming streamer, you like your little cozy corner online. But when a subscriber donates a couple of thousand during a charity stream, he swears it’s because he’s an actor. You know the rule about never truly trusting anything on the internet. So there’s no way an actual actor can be watching you stream, right?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x YouTuber!Reader

Word Count: 11.4K

Rating: M (18+ only)

Warnings: slight phone sex and allusions to sex, drug mentions, if there is anything I’ve missed please let me know (also sorry no beta reader we embrace the chaos the way dieter would)

A/N: Ok so, reader has a YouTube channel name and nickname but I promise it connects to the story so I just wanted to give that heads up! Second there are game references but nothing extreme or that you need to know for reading this. Third yes the title is based off the song ‘video games’ but i highly recommend Trixie Mattel’s cover of it! Fourth and final this is for @skeletoncowboys and @lowlights - my two lovely angels I truly can’t thank you both enough… this would not be here without y’all, you two are my guiding stars

and to you reading this, thank you 💜

Dieter is worried as balls he’s going to be late.

His manager has been talking for so long now that the dude sounds like a parent from a Charlie Brown special, just mumbling muffled crap that Dieter hasn’t even been listening to since fifteen minutes ago.

“Dieter. Dieter, man are you even paying attention?” His manager snaps and Dieter waves half heartedly at him.

“No.” He answers truthfully while his eyes stay focus on the other side of his laptop screen where the YouTube page is opened. Fuck he’s thankful the screen hasn’t changed. His eyes even stopped trying to flicker between the zoom meeting and the YouTube window. Now he just flat out patiently stares at the load screen buffering.

“You know what, fine. We’ll just figure this out tomorrow.” His poor manager sighs giving up.

“Yeah I know. I said earlier we should have discussed this tomorrow but whatever, okay bye!” Dieter cries happily and immediately clicks out of the zoom meeting to maximize the other window. The screen however suddenly freezes in the process.

“God damnit shitty hotel wifi!” Dieter screams horrified, scary movie worthy.

It’s just a snag of a moment but it is costing him time. He now scrambles to try and do something, anything, to bring the screen to life.

Because he’s been waiting for this moment.

A face reveal. Your face reveal.

You normally did all your ‘let’s play’ game streams faceless. You mentioned how you wanted everyone to focus on the game while also admitting that you felt a bit self conscious about showing your face.

But then the charity stream collab came.

“If you guys donate and we make it past one thousand dollars I’ll do it. I’ll do a face reveal stream. And who knows, maybe I’ll do a few more if we reach anything past our goal.”

You announced that during the stream a few weeks ago while your character ran around the Sim’s.

Dieter did not hesitate. He donated the entire thousand himself and added two extra thousand dollars just in case. He even recorded the moment it happened because it was so damn cute. You were so damn cute.

On stream when you suddenly saw the amount you cough out whatever you were taking a sip from. It made him laugh.

“Okay DB Blaster what the HELL?” Your reaction? Saying his user name? One of his top ten favorite moments of all time for sure.

Now the face reveal stream is here.

He already knows you’re probably beautiful, just knows because he can tell. The energy and aura you give off? Yeah he knows you’re gorgeous. Plus his actors’s intuition is no joke.

But now he gets to know what color your eyes are, how your face looks when it lights up when you laugh.

And the damn stupid hotel wifi is fucking up his entire LIFE.

As if nothing, the laptop screen unfreezes and there, the stream pops up. Dieter thinks he actually hears angels singing as the stream loads.

“Come ON!” He screams at the laptop so tempted to shake it.

And then, there you are.

You sit on a cozy gaming chair. The light of your bedroom bathes you in a golden glow as you grin warm. It damn near twinkles in your eyes.

Dieter inhales so fast his head goes dizzy. His heart suddenly jumps wild as hell in his chest and he’s worried it might fly out of his ass.

Because yeah he knew you were going to be pretty, but he didn’t think you’d be down right gorgeous.

He sits stunned in the nice hotel chair.

A piece of him thinks about that one podcast he listened to on how YouTube culture is meant to distract the masses so the alien overlords could take over easier. But right now he thinks the alien overlords could show up, burn his hotel room down and he wouldn’t give a rats ass. He wouldn’t even move from his chair.

Because there you are, separated by millions of pixels and glass screens always. And fuck, you are beautiful and his heart now soars far out of his chest.

Dieter happily grabs from the snack pile he curated to perfection for this event. He mindlessly shoves cheezits into his mouth. The salty cheese snack is enough to finally snap him out of the trance you put him under and immediately type something in your chat.

Streaming started off as a half joke to you.

During the peak of the pandemic the boredom, as well as the ache to just connect with your friends, is what brought you to live video game streaming.

You had played a few rounds of Mario Kart before with online play. But to fully play multiplayer games over a livestream with your friends?

That was how Twitch was introduced to you.

“Let’s just use it to play stupid games together!” Your best friend argued over a voice memo.

Twitch became a simple fun time to play with your friends. You laughed on private streams and enjoyed chasing your friends around trying to figure out who was the killer in Dead by Daylight.

Then your best friend had the crazy idea of uploading one of the livestreams into the main tag.

“Dude we’re funny, you are funny! Why not?”

“If you do that I’m hiding my face.” You vehemently told them.

Now here you are.

A full YouTube channel with 10K followers and doing a full on face reveal.

If you had told the past you that your friend posting the nightly video game group hang out would have transformed into this, you would have probably passed out.

But learning how to edit videos, gaining the confidence to post videos, straight up livestream with strangers, many who have now become dear friends since your Twitch days, and even finding friends among other streamers - all of this has led to where you sit now in your cozy gamer chair.

Because here you are - halcyon ghost.

And you are trying to keep yourself composed at witnessing chat go up into a whirlwind at finally seeing your face.

butterflybabe: GHOST?? U ARE GORGEOUS

ytgnfjkl: must avert my eyes from someone so pretty

JustCallMeSunny: UHH HAND IN MARRIAGE PLS

doodlenoodles: we gotta cancel ghost now for being too beautiful can we do that?

khaki345: just proved to all of us those earth angel allegations are true pal

A childish urge to cover your face itches all over your body and you can’t stop smiling.

DB_Blaster: HEY! I knew ghostie would be lovely before everyone else did thank you!

Then that comment has you smirking as you shake your head seeing the familiar chat name and Roger Rabbit icon.

Outlandish, a bit eccentric, DB_Blaster appeared around a year ago.

AJplays, your closest YouTube friend, advised that yes you can make great friends with a lot of subscribers and members. But you still always had to be careful.

“You don’t know who’s on the other side of the screen or chat ya know?” He had told you and you kept that in the back of your head, a silent awareness to always be just a bit careful.

And then DB Blaster weeks ago dropped a few thousand dollars during your livestream and you almost choked on your drink.

A year ago you made a discord server for channel members. There in a private discord chat you messaged the user who casually had donated enough money to make your head spin.

Halcyonghost: did you seriously just drop 3K

DB_Blaster: excuse you I donated 5k

Just as fast as he replied, he then donated another two thousand dollars.

DB_Blaster: do you need more? 🥺

You sent back a mess of screaming messages.

Most of them were confused and completely freaking out because who has the money to just drop thousands during a charity YouTube stream?

Then this dumbass had the audacity to send you back a gif of Garfield shrugging.

After that you couldn’t help but want to find out more about this elusive DB.

Halcyonghost: so are you some sort of mob member? Is there a mobster actually wanting to watch some youtuber play animal crossing?

DB_Blaster: HAHAHAHAHA

DB_Blaster: holy fuck if only

DB_Blaster: but nah ghostie, I’m an actor 😇

That was the first time he said he was an actor and you rolled your eyes.

Halcyonghost: okay sure, believe the mobster theory even more now

“He might just be some rich sugar daddy type dude.” AJ told you over a voice memo.

That theory felt closer to being true than the possibility of a real actor messaging you. After that DB slowly began to message at weird times of the day. Once at two in the morning he wished you a good day and sent a link to a weird but super funny tiktok. You also always could count on him to send you some of the most outlandish memes.

It was cute and endearing in its own way.

Now as you sort through chat and let the screen load for Stardew Valley an alert pops up on your phone.

Discord Alert: new message

You covertly go to check it on the desktop.

DB_Blaster: oh sweet ghostie you have me on my KNEES

DB_Blaster: you are gorgeous

DB_Blaster: not even Billy Shakes could do your beauty justice

Your lips fight back a smile as you type your reply back.

Halcyonghost: Billy Shakes?

DB Blaster quickly sends you a glittering photo of William Shakespeare wearing sunglasses.

You hold back a stupid little giggle and simply decide to jump into playing.

On stream you run around like crazy trying to fish and end up facilitating a discussion about what maybe do next stream to change things up.

AJPlays: play another horror game you coward

“Don’t be rude!” You wheeze playfully at your friend’s comment. “But I’m open to playing more horror games.”

friedpickle: let’s watch a movie!!

“A movie live watch would be fun.” You offer. “Would be a bit hard since YouTube is ridiculous on copyright movie shit.”

The private discord message notification goes off again.

DB_Blaster: you watch anyone of my movies you wouldn't have to worry about copy right issues I’ld take care of it

You decide to be a bit playful.

Halcyonghost: you sure are serious about the whole actor deal huh?

DB_Blaster: as serious as the Oscar I got 🫡

Now you can’t help but egg him on.

Playfully you reply with the ‘sure Jan’ gif and return to streaming.

The joy of carving out this little space on the Internet for yourself is being reminded how fun it can really be. Sure chat can be a little chaotic to keep up with sometimes, but the conversations are wonderful. It does stun you from time to time to get hit with the realization that real folks watch you, interact with your content and want to talk with you. A fond warmth blooms through your chest even as you frustratedly lose another fish.

That’s when you finally glance at the time on your computer screen.

“Woah team, why didn’t you guys tell me it was this late?” You announce through a yawn seeing it’s about to be past nine.

“Well,” you begin a bit heartfelt and slowly bare your heart. You explain how you never thought you’d get this brave to become a streamer, much less show your face. You sincerely thank everyone who watches, interacts and makes this little nook of the internet so special for you.

Chat blows up and giddiness overwhelms you at the response.

So many cute hearts and massive sweet messages.

AJPlays: LOVE YOU!!

sam maybe: nothing but love for you!

It’s all a beautiful reminder that yeah being online sometimes is good.

As you log off chat you reach for your phone. A few emails from work, texts from your parents, and a couple of alerts from discord wait for you. You check the main server chat first.

doodlenooodles: we should make this day a national holiday -national halcyon ghost face day reveal

JustAshley: agreed

An amused snort escapes you and you move to check the few private discord messages you have.

One is AJ screaming his demand for you to play another horror game along with sending a photo of his partner's sweet dog.

Then two messages wait for you from DB Blaster.

The first is a photo.

A very prestigious Oscar award gleams on a mantle. An opened bag of chips casually is crunched beside it. From how shiny it glistens in the light, the award looks official. Not believing it for a second though, you click on the photo to investigate. You zoom in on the award where the name can be made out even in the gleam of the light.

Academy Award Winner

“Hunger Strike”

Dieter Bravo

“Wait.” You admit outloud.

Why did that name sound familiar?

You google the name and up pops the very handsome veteran actor. You suddenly remember the ads he was in for that Beast Cliff movie your best friend raved were pure delicious golden trash.

There is no way it’s that guy.

Halcyonghost: That’s a good replica lol are you a big fan of his?

DB_Blaster: definitely not a replica and I guess you could say that lol 👀

His profile name now made sense. This guy had to be a huge fan of Dieter Bravo. You could respect that.

DB_Blaster: on another note! I’m glad you did a face reveal, you really are so attractive like wowza

A bit forward, you thought. But he’s quick to apologize.

DB_Blaster: shit sorry I don’t wanna be creepy

DB_Blaster: I just remember how nervous and hesitant you were about ever showing your face and now you getting to this point? rad as fuck

A sweet appreciation unfolds over you fast, sweetening your teeth as if you had just taken a bite out of your favorite cake.

This person has been with you for around a year now. So for him, along with all the other members that have stuck around, to recognize this moment is just as big of a deal for you as it was for them is incredible. The true depth of your emotions feel too big to be captured by words.

Halcyonghost: aw shucks thank you

You explain how as nervous you were, by the time stream hit the hour mark everyone made it feel like you were back to streaming with your friends. You happily embrace that feeling

DB_Blaster: awww you like us! 🥹♥️

Halcyonghost: Of course! Everyone who comes to stream and interacts is what pushes creators like us & I never want to forget or take for granted anyone who views my work

You were lucky and grateful for the sweet community that’s grown with you.

DB_Blaster: wow, pretty poetic and sentimental ghostie I like it

DB_Blaster: 🥰

You smirk cause it’s not even that poetic but you don’t have the energy to correct him. It’s getting late and you want to start heading to bed.

DB_Blaster: can I ask you something? Since you’re being sentimental and what not.

DB_Blaster: and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but I’ve always want to know

DB_Blaster: why did u get into streaming?

Why did you get into streaming and YouTube?

DB_Blaster: fuck shit I’m sorry if that was too invasive

He even sends a worried cat face picture.

What a question to ask though. You thought you had discussed this on stream or even on a previous video before. Now you wonder if maybe you hadn’t mentioned it. All your friends knew about how you got to this point. They were the aid and the only reason why you got the push anyway.

Halcyonghost: No worries its all good

Halcyonghost: guess like everyone else the pandemic kinda just pushed me to try new things, decided to play on twitch with friends on a private stream and then a few streams later my best friend decides to post it on a main tag and it blows up

Halcyonghost: then one brave fuck it decision later a YouTube channel is born and here we are lol

Halcyonghost: sorry if that’s not too exciting

DB_Blaster: no that’s everything

DB_Blaster: it’s special knowing this turned into something meaningful for you it’s great

It catches you off guard at how endearing the message is.

Halcyonghost: wow that’s real sweet thank you ♥

You mean that reply.

After you brush your teeth, you pass out in your bed forgetting to see if he replied back. Strangely enough, the image of a golden Oscar lingers in the back of your mind.

The beautiful moments of enjoying streaming, of getting to bask in how special this little outlet, are what you treasure. But those moments when work, life, clash with your little carved out corner it reminds you that sometimes you need to step away from everything for a bit.

Halcyon Ghost: hey guys, tough day at work today… going have to reschedule stream :( real sorry about this!!

The replies are sweet, reassuring along with some humorous ones. One comes from your mystery man on a private discord message.

DB_Blaster: do you need me to take someone out?

It’s enough to make you laugh and a relaxed ease melts away some of your stress.

Halcyonghost: Tempting! But stand down Don Corleone

DB_Blaster, catching your godfather reference, sends you a gif of the classic ‘‘leave the gun take the cannoli’ scene.

DB_Blaster: sorry work was so tough, anything I can do to help?

You thank him and explain how it’s just work stuff getting you down. Of course you make the joke about one day becoming a full time streamer because every little YouTuber at one point wonders about the life of having that as their job.

DB_Blaster: you should, I’d support you. No lie.

You’re about to dig into the takeout you order and you’re thankful you didn’t take a bite because you would have coughed out a little laugh at seeing that message.

Halcyonghost: Ahh yes forgot… talking to a scary rich mobster here lol

He sends a gif of Marlon Brando’s Don Corleone and it does make you giggle.

DB_Blaster: but seriously, you ever need anything

DB_Blaster: I know it sounds weird but pls let me know okay??

It’s oddly sweet. But of course you sharply remember how this guy donated thousands easily and it only intensely rattles your mind thinking about what kind of man this guy is.

Halcyonghost: thank you ♡

Halcyonghost: so…what do you seriously do? Besides being a mobster obsessed with one random actor lol

DB_Blaster: Rude!!

DB_Blaster: and I told you

DB_Blaster: I am a thespian ghostie babe 😎

He really is sticking to that.

You want to poke fun but you also understood not wanting to discuss personal aspects. So you apologize for asking. He doesn’t reply for a full ten minutes and you now wonder if maybe you could be upsetting him.

Discord alert: DB_Blaster sent you a voice message!

That new alert now makes you eve more worried.

You scramble to grab your headphones and you don’t know why your heart is hammering so much. You don’t hesitate to listen to the voice chat.

“Ghostie.” The voice that greets you is pure smooth goodness. Thick, manly and older, and something feels as if it is being yanked out of your chest fast.

“I swear I’m an actor.” He urges with a laugh. “Do you want me to send you my IMDB page? Or you know what, maybe this might help.”

The voice chat ends and you see the bubbles pop up suggesting he is typing a message in the discord chat.

A photo pops up.

The man in it is scruffy, a bit sleepy looking with bed head type hair. He holds up a peace sign and grins at you. This man is also gorgeous. Deep dark brown eyes and a sharp striking nose, for some reason his voice perfectly fits his features.

His face again seems so familiar.

DB_Blaster: SEE! It me :)

You can’t even reply to that yet.

You go back to googling the name that had first appeared when you saw that academy award.

Dieter Bravo.

The mess of paparazzi photos, screenshots from movies, to various interview clips, the man is the same as the one in the photo sent to you.

This has to be a catfish. Someone really trying to keep their identity hidden and deciding to do some old fashion celebrity role play type deal.

You decide to do a deep dive.

You check Twitter and find he’s not there any more. His Instagram is bare minimum and hasn’t seen a recent post since 2019. He has been included on a few TikToks. But to say that photo sent could be an older Instagram or Twitter photo Dieter Bravo took is too much.

You try turning your brain off from thinking about streaming or a possible catfish living in your messages. But curiosity scratches at you like an anxious kitten. There’s no way it could be the actual actor Dieter Bravo.

Barely one episode into your favorite comfort series rewatch, you decide to check discord.

More messages wait for you.

DB_Blaster: I know you think I’m lying

DB_Blaster: but I am not I swear! I vow on my life!

DB_Blaster: if you feel comfortable enough you are more than welcome to video call me and see me with your own pretty eyes 😇

You want to scream.

There’s no way. But, what could you lose if you video chat with this person? Worst case? You drop the video call, block him on every account and pretend this never happened. Best case? You don’t even want to think about that because a best case feels so outlandish.

Electricity hums through your veins and you sit up straight on your couch.

You hit video call.

Loudly your heart hammers a vicious beat in your ears. The video chat rings twice. Someone answers.

There he is.

Dieter Bravo, in the flesh, talking so bright and amused. His smile crinkles his deep eyes and the crisp light of his kitchen highlights his stunning features.

“Well well well, might have to call a paranormal investigator because I just made contact with a ghost!”

He talks first, so excited and haughty, and you can’t help it.

You hang up the video call.

Wild electrified clusters of emotions course through you so strong it feels as if your brain might shut down.

Dieter Bravo.

Dieter Bravo is a viewer of your channel and is who you have been chatting with.

You call him back. You have to make sure this is real and maybe not just a wild delusion.

Dieter Bravo again answers with the most Cheshire Cat pleased smile.

“Trouble with your wifi? I get it.” He asks so casually.

You really can’t believe it.

“You’re…you’re HOLY FUCK?” You scream.

Dieter barks a laugh.

“And here I was thinking I’d be the one freaking out.” He’s amused and it is so clear in the twinkle of those warm charcoal eyes.

“I told you I wasn’t lying ghostie!” Dieter urges excited.

You could admit and testify that yes, known actor and academy award winner Dieter Bravo is not a liar. And also apparently, he is a fan of part time game streamers.

“I can’t believe it.” You mutter still stunned as hell.

“Believe it ghostie.” He replies swiftly.

“So how was your day before it got turned upside down?” He smirks proud. Even with that you find he is so casual and actually friendly? He mentions how his day went and how he’s excited to feast on the Taco Bell he door dashed.

“How did…How did you even find my channel?” You breathlessly ask.

“Oh, we’re getting into the personal stuff already? I was hoping we’d get to that maybe by our second date but this is fantastic.” He replies back taking a bite out of the Taco Bell he told you he ordered.

“Oh my god.” You sputter out not even processing fully what he’s saying because this entire moment feels outrageous.

He’s a celebrity. A full on icon who has been in the same room as Meryl Streep and here he is grinning at you like he’s won the lotto.

“You know you’re even cuter than you are on stream. Really diggin’ the extra cozy vibes from my favorite cozy gamer.”

You wonder if maybe you should hang up on him again.

“Let’s be serious here.” You huff. You just want to find out and piece together how this man found his way to you.

“Honestly?” He begins after taking a swig of a baja blast.

“I had a bad break up a while back.” Dieter starts with a brisk and slightly detached voice.

“Thought it’d be a long haul thing but…it’s whatever.” His voice drifts off as he moves to sit down. Dieter places his phone across from him so now it feels as if he is sitting across from you. The view gives you a full sight of his wild and vast Taco Bell haul. You also don’t miss the weed pipe resting beside his Baja blast.

“Anyway, I was up late one night, couldn’t sleep. Went to look up a video about how humanity could possibly survive a kraken emerging from the depths of the sea, as one wonders about at three in the morning.”

A wild laugh almost escapes you, but you stay composed as best as you can.

“And then, the freaky as fuck YouTube algorithm decides to recommend me your video.” Dieter says.

“Wait.” Your voice sounds small, as if you’re afraid to shatter this moment. “Which one?”

You watch this handsome man’s face grow soft as his eyes look distant. He dives in to take a scoop out of his nacho pile and munch happily.

You already hate how attractive he is just eating.

“It was the ‘I make a gay love cafe for my animal crossing villagers’ one.” His voice drips with evident fondness. For some reason though, just hearing the title of your video along with his soft voice does it for you. You start giggling.

Maybe it’s the disbelief finally settling in or the exhaustion from the hard day you had, but you laugh and it aches your stomach. Dieter joins in thankfully laughing just as much as you are.

It’s unreal, a twinkling moment you know you’ll never be able to capture again but it’s oddly wonderful.

“I guess you liked it?” You ask through a wheeze.

“Ghostie, I snorted a shit ton of coke just so I could stay awake till five am to binge all your videos.” He admits through a giggle.

“Holy shit!” You cough out a bit stunned at his reply.

“Well,” You manage to recompose yourself and even smile grateful because you are. “Sorry about the break up, those are always shit. But…I am glad you found my little video. Weird as that sounds.”

“It’s not weird.” Dieter reassures you and it knocks you breathless how directly he stares at you. You almost feel exposed.

“It’s kismet, dear ghost.” Dieter tells you with so much eased simplicity it sounds a bit comedic. You can’t help but snort.

It might not be kismet but it was something.

Dieter and you end up messaging each other, constant and steady after that. He begins sending you pictures of the sky outside his LA apartment during his runs. One of them is a glorious tangerine lemonade sky.

DB_Blaster: sky kinda looks like a musty day old orange outside today, it’s kinda nice

There’s a neighborhood cat he always gets excited to see and gladly sends you photos of the unamused white feline whenever he spots her.

You tell him about your day and you are surprised he balances asking about your videos and streaming to asking genuine questions about how you are doing. Interestingly enough you ask more questions about what video games.

“I’m a fucking killer at Mario kart. Love The Sims, the grim reaper is my roommate there.” Figures.

“One day I wanna play Mario Party.” He gladly tells over a voice chat.

“Oh my god you’d be ridiculous at Mario party.” You snicker back. “And the sims…it fits you.”

“Thank you.” He proudly replies and it makes you grin so ridiculously.

Dieter Bravo is charming, but you know he is. You would never admit it to him but that night, that first night after you discovered Dieter was in fact DB_Blaster, you went on an entire Dieter Bravo interview deep dive.

You watched how personable he could be with someone interviewing him. But you also witnessed the side of him that could be a real ass. There was an old Rolling Stone article you read briefly that described him as “an enigma of a man you’d run into at a bathroom and believe you fever dreamed the entire interaction” and that entirely described Dieter perfectly.

By the time your weekly night stream arrives, you can’t help but think of him. He promised you he would be present.

“Ghostie I’ve only missed ONE of your streams and it was only because I was on shrooms and got explosive diarrhea. Not a good night for me.”

It horrified you hearing that but also had you holding back the giggles because the earnestness in his voice was so pure.

Dieter Bravo is a pure enigma of a man for sure.

You decide to stream again with your face camera on to embrace the weight and joy of being known. And also because a secret, but very aware part of you, knows Dieter Bravo watches you.

Your mind wanders to the photos of him at the academy awards. You honestly stared at those for a good few minutes because you could get over how much of a god he looked in his striking tux.

You also think of the one day he video chatted with you. Obvious coke residue was dusted on his nose and he wore a Golden Girl’s shirt that had Cheeto dust on it. Even witnessing that side of him, a deep fondness and even deeper attraction for this chaotic cluster of a man infects you rapidly.

Drop kicking those thoughts away, you jump into playing Tears of the Kingdom. A small discussion buzzes in the chat about which of Zelda’s outfits are the best. You go to check on chat and your heart jumps straight into your throat seeing the familiar user name now among the bunch.

DB_Blaster: Ghostieeeee, my dear you are looking extra ethereal today 🥰

A sharp heat spreads over your cheeks and a giddiness surges through you.

“Moron.” You snicker mainly to yourself even though you know chat probably caught it.

An alert pops up from discord. You click onto it quickly and find a private message.

DB_Blaster: you’re adorable when you get flustered

You are falling down a dangerously slippery slope for this dumb actor. Mentally you want to sink your fingers onto a ledge to stop yourself from going into a free fall.

You simply reply back with a silly nonsense gif because it’s all you can muster.

Stream goes smoothly and you call it in early for the night. Another discord message awaits you and this time you already know who it’s from.

DB_Blaster: what’s the one thing you need the most for streaming?

That stuns you.

When you took the jump into streaming you promised yourself you’d only get the basics and nothing too expensive. Because sure, as much as you would love to spend a couple extra bucks on a better microphone, better software, or even a full time editor you had bills to pay, snacks to buy.

You simply reply back that better audio would be nice.

DB_Blaster: wait how do you buy better audio? 🗣️

You laugh and find it so easy to video call him now.

When he answers, Dieter is not in his lavish LA apartment but a similarly lavish and sleek hotel.

“Hi ghostie.” He grins.

“Wait where are you?”

“Rude! Did you forget I had an audition for a new Broadway production?!” Dieter gasps hurt.

“No, I remembered! I was just surprised you didn’t fly back home already.”

He scoffs. “No way, and miss getting some New York pizza? Plus I’m lazy and just would rather deal with LAX tomorrow.”

As you snicker you decide to settle in for the night. Propping him up against your mirror in the bathroom Dieter suddenly gasps again.

“Am I in your bathroom?! We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet!”

“I’m gonna hang up on you.” You smirk, shaking your head.

A thought suddenly trickles in. You think of AJplays and a few other streamers who are now all your dear friends. There is a small but dear step it takes to see more of the person behind the youtube name.

So you take that step. You give Dieter your real name.

“You can call me that now.” You try to be eased with it as you go to wash your face for the night until you catch how direct Dieter stares at you.

He repeats your name, breathing it out on an exhale that sounds reverent. It galvanizes your heart into a dangerous spring.

“Yup, that’s me.” You weakly reply.

“Your name suits you.” Dieter sincerely says.

“Thanks. Halcyon Ghost is my middle name.”

That makes Dieter laugh and you hate the excitement rushing in you from making him laugh.

Dieter Bravo is truly such a wild but interesting man. He has told you about the time he almost jumped into the water fountain at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Then over a video call he softly revealed how he wants to create art, performances, that connect with people even long after his soul has passed into the next dimension.

“S’why I got into acting.” He had said so simply.

You can’t believe this strange endearing man now sits in your phone urging you to do a cliché beauty influencer talkthrough of your night time routine.

You raise up your boring moisturizer with the peeling label in the way you had seen in TikToks and videos. However your lack of enthusiasm immediately has Dieter and you busting out wild giggles like school children trying to keep quiet in a library.

Eventually you and him settle into a comfortable eased conversation.

“So you talked about audio earlier…what do you need for better audio?” Dieter of course brings that up again.

“Eh, a better microphone, or some sound mixing equipment. But like I said, I'm good with what I have.” You are.

“I could get you something nicer.” His voice echoes off the walls of your small bathroom and your eyes go wide.

“Uh no!” You chide him. “Please don’t buy me things!”

“Why?” He debates simply.

“Because…because I said so!” You sputter back. Because the thought of this gorgeous man spending money on you is making your knees want to buckle.

“Aren’t we friends? Friends buy each other things.” Dieter replies stubbornly.

“Not new hundred dollar mics!” You fire back just as stubbornly.

“Oh they’re only a hundred dollars? Baby that’s nothing.” He scoffs. But the new nickname he so casually calls you rips a new heat through your body. It crawls up your spine and makes your throat going dry.

You stay quiet not knowing what to say or not trusting what you might say.

“Did I upset you ghostie?” Dieter asks playful but the concern is there.

“No, I'm just tired.” You lie.

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t believe you for a second and you know it.

“Come on,” you grab him from his perch against your mirror and give him a sleepy grin. “Bed time.”

“Are you taking me to bed now, little ghost!? If I knew we were taking this step I would’ve ordered us dinner before!” Dieter exclaims again dramatically and over the top.

You laugh in disbelief and settle against your bed frame.

“You moron.” You can’t help but sigh fondly.

“Yeah your moron.” He offers back gently.

Was he slowly becoming yours, or were you just becoming his? All you can do is grin soft at him and shrug.

“So, you wearing any cute underwear?” He flat out asks. You place your phone down and away from you on the blanket as if to put him in timeout.

Dieter barks a hilarious and loud laugh that fills your room with warm energy you can almost hold in your hands.

You pick up the phone and glare at him.

“You better behave.” You chide him with no malice because your mind is still trying to settle down from the question he asked.

“I will, I will. I swear on my Oscar.” Dieter reassures. It only makes you roll your eyes.

“Tell me why you picked your YouTube name, halcyon ghost.” He says your channel name with proper grand bravado.

It was October when you made the channel. Your thoughts immediately went to something spooky. You also explained how you always thought the word ‘halcyon’ was nice.

“So why not.” You finish explaining a bit anticlimactic.

“Did you know the word comes from some like Greek myth too?” Dieter offers then happily jumps in to retell it.

“Halcyon was the name of some bird. It had the ability to calm rough seas whenever it went to nest or some shit. It’s why the word ‘halcyon’ means tranquility and peace.”

Everytime you are reminded of how worldly and sometimes sagely this ridiculous man can be it knocks something solid through your chest.

“That’s beautiful.” You admit.

Dieter hums thoughtful. “Yeah.”

His eyes suddenly flicker to unflinching look to you. It is just you and him staring so directly at each other. But you can’t hold his gaze for long. You blink away, not even truly focusing on anything.

“So no true poetic meaning picking ‘ghost’?” Dieter asks now interested and curious.

You laugh. “I mean, not really?”

You could probably do some deep analysis and talk about how as a creator, it’s easy to feel like a ghost when there is no interaction with the content created.

You wanted to keep your face, your identity, a bit hidden so the ghost image fit.

“But you know how that went.” You joke.

He snickers.

“Ghosts also haunt things.” Dieter offers with a light tone.

“They do.” You nod.

“Would you believe me if I said you have been haunting me?” Dieter admits into the quiet space of your bedroom.

Your heart trips, skips a beat and you try to control your face but it’s so hard when your eyes snap to his fast.

A moment passes with his wonderfully magnetic eyes again staring at you but now he seems to be waiting for you to say something, anything. Even over a simple video chat the atmosphere in your room thickens, becomes hazy, and it begins to sink beneath your skin.

All you can do is nervously laugh. “I’d say that’s a good one and you should save it for chat.”

Humor, it’s all that you have sometimes. Plus, you don’t know if he is being serious or playful. It’s hard to find the hard line between the two when he’s an actor, a man known for putting up fronts. Because even though you now see him as a friend, there is still a strange space between you and him that you want to cautiously navigate. It feels like a deep river that if you take one more step into you might fall into a rushing tide.

Dieter hums and you don’t miss how his eyes immediately lower a bit downcast.

“I’ll let you go for the night ghostie.” Dieter mutters.

The tension does not leave your room even when the video calls leaves and it makes your skin crawl.

You are at a company dinner Friday night when the email comes.

“Hi Halcyon Ghost

Exciting news! Here is your invitation to this year’s VidCon held in Los Angeles California!”

It is a clash of two worlds and you can’t focus your excitement into anything without making one of your coworkers confused.

AJ already has messaged you screaming with his excitement over you and him receiving the same invite.

You and him already start screaming a plan to meet up and room together.

For some reason your mind jumps to Dieter.

You want to tell him, want to freak out the same way you did when he proudly called you to announce he got the broadway part he auditioned for. He’s become such a strange but solid facet in your life it almost aches how badly you want him more than anything.

Because you’re still at dinner you decide to message him quick and fast in discord. So fast you don’t even remember what you sent. By the time you return to your apartment you find a mess of messages waiting for you.

DB_Blaster: MY DEAR GHOST?? EXCUSE ME?!?!?!

DB_Blaster: WHAT A PRO! WHAT AN ICON!!!

DB_Blaster: 🎉C O N G R A T S 🎉 BABY!!!

DB_Blaster: GHOSTIE!!! CALL ME NOW!!

You do so eagerly.

“Uh hello?” He answers in a bad accent that you vaguely remember from that bad Cliff beast whatever movie. “Is this pro gamer halcyon ghost? Now famous VidCon invitee?”

You laugh is bright and loud and you don’t care.

“I can’t believe it!” You cry. “Me, AJ, and a few of our other friends got the invite! I mean it’s just an invite and it’s not much but-“

“No,” he cuts you off sharply and even frowns. “Don’t do that, give yourself credit. Your content is awesome as fuck and you deserve this!”

Your face drops because he sounds so sincere.

He notices it too. Over the phone’s screen you watch as Dieters eyes flicker and scan over your face so intently.

“God I’m so fucking proud of you.” He breathes out and it makes your spine snap straight.

“Dieter…” you exhale and now catch that familiar shift coming in the air. Even over the video chat you again sense it, something brewing and becoming uncontainable, stretching thin as if it's a wire maybe about to snap.

Then your phone rings.

You cuss sharp under your breath.

Your best friend’s hilarious photo pops up on your phone. You know the call is to congratulate you on the invite. But you know there’s something even more pressing here sitting in the air between you and Dieter. You don’t want to avoid it anymore. The elated energy, the buzz of the high, makes you want to face whatever this is head on, to dive right into whatever is brewing beneath the tides.

Your eyes shoot an apologetic look to Dieter. An understanding but little crooked grin paints his features and makes him look so boyish.

“Text me back or call me when you can.”

Dieter hangs up and you already ache for the actor you’ve grown so deeply fond of.

The phone call with your best friend is wonderful, joyous, and you appreciate the support like this in your life. But it’s getting late and you can’t help but think about the actor still possibly waiting for you.

So you grasp onto the exuberant energy still humming through your system. You harness it with all your might and immediately call him. You chide yourself for getting caught up in the excitement and not video calling him.

Then Dieter answers.

“Ghostie?” He sounds wrecked, out of breath.

“Hi yeah, it’s me. Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You offer small and so worried now.

Until he sighs and it sounds soaked in sex, so delicious and dangerous.

“Baby…” he sighs your name out and it has never sounded more sacred.

“You gotta know,” Dieter whines. “You gotta know how much I want you.”

You are sent out of orbit. Your mind, your body, all melt as everything inside you ignites in a fierce flame.

A few weeks ago you learned one of Dieter’s movies involved a heated sex scene.

After searching and finally finding the clip, it shot the strongest dosage of arousal through your body at a dizzying speed. You rewatched it an embarrassing amount of times, more than you even want to admit to yourself. You thought about how fierce and consuming he kissed his costar. And now those scenes vividly flash in your head, begging you to fall into the beautiful abyss creeping up below you.

“Dieter.” You reply a bit choked.

The faint wet noise of his hand stroking his cock comes and it makes you swallow back a whine.

“Wanted you for so long, think about you all the time.” Dieter mutters in a trance.

“I…” there’s so much you want to say, so much you want to discuss. But heat licks a blazing path through your veins. It makes your underwear sticky and so wet already. All those hesitations and all thoughts you had flutter away.

“Don’t think,” Dieter coos like a soft siren begging you to join him. “Just feel, come on baby. Feel with me.”

So you do. Your hand slips greedily beneath your underwear and you feel everything right there with him in the warm glow of your bedroom.

Sunday night you are on a discord voice call with Dieter as he waits out his canceled flight.

After not talking to him all Saturday he was the one to finally break and call you first. You’re surprised you even answered.

“I can hear you thinking ghostie.” Dieter hums amused.

It’s been on your mind this entire time since Friday, since the phone sex - the thought of whatever you and him are becoming, have now become.

“Talk to me.” He offers soft, soft like the way he wishes you good night over voice memos every night now.

“Do you think about how we have like…different layers? Like I know your job is literally about being someone else. And I understand you present yourself a certain way even in interviews and you aren’t even your true self there-”

“If you watch that one buzzfeed interview I did high I think you’d recant your words baby.” He jokingly interjects and you snort.

“You know what I mean.” You gently return back to the thought you’ve been wanting to discuss with him.

“And with me, I know I have layers of how I’m perceived online and I just…” your voice trails off now thinking you might be getting caught up in your words.

“You think we’re both just caught up in the projected perceptions of the other huh?” Dieter muses.

It again startles you how perceptive he is.

If there is anything that you would have not pictured Dieter Braver to be, it's perceptive. But he is. This is of course the same man who told you how he once drank a Baja blast out of a black licorice because he wondered if the flavor would change. But he’s also deeply intuitive, even a bit wise, and those traits shine so warmly now.

“Ghostie,” he begins and then says your real name. “Remember when I told you how I found your videos? How I said it was…wait fuck what did I say it was like?”

“Kismet,” you smirk saying the word.

“Yeah that’s it thank you baby!” Dieter cheers. “Okay anyway, I said that ‘cause it’s true. Your video was like…some damn lifeline I didn’t know I fucking needed. Finding you felt like I was returning from a haze.”

Confliction bubbles in you with an acidic wave. Pride, gratitude, and even deep admiration rise up all for him but it also strongly clashes with the fierce realist in you.

“And then I got to know you.” He adds firm. “I learned what your favorite take out meal is. I still remember the story you told me about your most embarrassing moment. I learned about the movies you love and the ones you hate.”

Hours were spent discussing movies. You should have known any movie talk with an actor would result in hour long debate over which Lord of the Rings movie is best since Dieter swears it’s the first.

“I know you.” He urges.

“I mean, I don’t know who your favorite teacher was and shit but I…I think I know you. You’re now not just the cute as fuck streamer who brought me out of my dumps. You’re someone who’s been brigtening the FUCK out of my life just from hearing you talk about what you plan to get at the grocery store.”

You don’t realize you’re on the verge of tearing up until you blink and find tears blurring your vision.

“Still can’t believe you donated that much.” You sniffle.

“Yeah but doing that let us all see your lovely face so ha.” Dieter replies haughtily.

“Look baby, let’s just keep getting to know and grow with each other, yeah?” He offers in a hopeful and warm tone that reminds you of a tangerine sunrise.

“Yeah.” You agree and gently walk into that tangerine sunrise.

“Now will you let me buy you some new audio shit?” He asks in an annoying childish high pitch voice and the soft moment gets squashed. But it is pure Dieter.

“You moron.” You choke out through an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah your moron ghostie!” He exclaims with all his might.

“Please tell me you did not just yell that in the middle of an airport.”

“Oh you know I’ve acted worse in an airport. That was nothing.” He scoffs.

You do know. Dieter explained, even sent articles, about how he ran around the Denver Airport once trying to see if there were actual lizard people in the tunnels. It’s why he is forever banned there.

Remembering that solidifies his words.

To know someone is a blessing, a privilege, even if the stories surrounding them are so wild and ridiculous. Maybe even more so with this man.

Because to know Dieter Bravo is to know he is ridiculous, wild, a bit eccentric, but entirely warm and heartfelt.

You realize you never want to know a day without him.

That thought blooms into firm wonderful roots that immediately grow in your heart’s chambers.

By the time VidCon approaches only a month away you, Dieter is now simply calling you over your phone. Discord voice and video chats no more.

“So what are your LA plans?” Dieter asks while chewing through some jerky.

“Well AJ and I already got a room booked by the convention center so that’s my biggest relief.” You and AJ already had excitedly joked about maybe running into a celebrity. A part of you even now has to suppress giggling at just thinking about how you have daily phone calls with a known celebrity buzzfeed articles have deem ‘Sexy AF.’

Except right now said celebrity burps disgustingly loud in your ear.

“Dieter, gross.” You frown.

“Sorry babe…Anyway,” Dieter bounces back quickly. “Want me to pick you up from the airport?”

You almost drop your phone.

“Honey what?” You wheeze out.

“I love it when you call me honey!” He gushes so obnoxiously. You’ve been calling him honey for months now and it never fails he says this every time.

“Focus Bravo.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighs. “As I was saying, let me just pick you up from the airport.”

The thought of finally seeing him in person freezes you. After months of doing the long distance thing, having incredible phone and video sex, everything now settles in you fast. From your excitement, to the fear of him actually seeing you in person-

“Ghostie.” Dieter breaks into your thoughts with a sing song like tone.

You sigh now “Sorry honey.”

Dieter giggles dreamily. “Honey.”

You sigh again.

“Let me pick you up baby.” He suddenly purrs low as if he wasn’t just giggling like a lovesick fangirl a split second before.

It would solve your issue about dealing with a ride share or even the horrifying thought of getting a rental.

“Sure, why not.”

Dieter screams loud as if his favorite sports team just scored but Dieter doesn’t care for sports and you hang up your phone.

He simply now texts you: [See you at stream tonight babeyyy]

You playfully reply back: [not if i block you 😊]

He simply sends back a gif of a dumb minion blowing a kiss and you now really contemplate blocking him.

Later that night on stream, as you play the most recent Pokémon game, you see Dieter’s name pop up.

DB_Blaster: hello beautiful my ghost

You hid your smirk behind the hand your face is leaning on.

Chat of course ignores him while they excitedly continue to send encouraging words about the upcoming VidCon trip. A few members even eagerly hope they can run into you at the convention. It is exciting and reminds you of the exciting energy that awaits before a big vacation.

Then a chime comes from chat.

This one alerts you that someone sent a super chat, which includes a donation with it.

Your eyes readily flicker over to check and thank whoever sent it. Then your eyes almost pop out of your socket.

DB_Blaster - $900 super chat!

“What the fuck!?” You can’t help but flat out shriek.

Thankfully chat reacts just as wild.

butterflybabe: dude db_blaster can you like adopt me??

justAshley: I am manifesting this type of energy to find me oh my god

You scramble quickly to your phone to text him in all caps about what the fuck does he think he’s doing.

[Dieter: for ur mic and audio shit baby!]

[Dieter: Don’t think I forgot 🥰]

[Dieter: or for maybe a new vibrator hmm 👀????]

You swallow back the scream you want to let out and instead slam your phone back down.

Recovering fast you grin at the chat.

“Don’t worry everyone, DB Blaster is actually my estranged rich grandmother, so let’s all say thank you to her! Thank you grandma!” You smile bright and wide on camera.

Dieter straight up calls you in the middle of the stream and you can’t help it. You laugh and almost knock over your microphone.

After scrambling for the days off, shoving everything into a suitcase, suddenly the month is over and you are landing in Los Angeles ready for VidCon.

LAX is an experience, like a whole world encapsulated in one place.

There is a MAC makeup store, a Michael Kors and then a Jersey Mikes. You don’t want to wander around too much before getting lost in its depths. You can almost hear Dieter’s voice rattling off in your head, warning you not to get lost or else the alien creatures living in the airports will grab you and make you play monopoly with them like a scene out of a bad 80’s Sci Fi movie.

Thankfully you don’t have to wait too long to actually hear his voice. Your phone rings and you rapidly scramble to answer it.

“Hello?” You breathlessly answer.

“Baby,” His voice is drenched in disappointment and so much heartbreak. “My ghostie…Fuck I’m so sorry I can’t make it.”

You knew he would be cutting it close with his photoshoot.

“Honey it’s okay I promise.” You reassure him but you still are a bit heartbroken. Your excitement escapes you like a deflated balloon getting caught up in the ceiling of the Los Angeles airport.

“I’ll make it up to you I swear!” Dieter urges with devout conviction.

You know he will, in his own Dieter way and that’s enough to comfort you.

The walk to the rideshare pickup area is solemn but you carry yourself and your luggage with gathered dignity. Thankfully your Uber driver is sweet and you enjoy the chat during the drive. She happily suggests restaurants and different bars to check out making the trip to the hotel not too bad.

Finding AJ already in the lobby waiting for you makes the journey even better. After the hilarious freak out for finally meeting, you now eagerly discuss dinner plans with him.

“Maybe we can go food truck hunting?!” AJ offers excitedly.

You agree with just as much excitement and move to open the door.

There in the room a full array of colors explode before your eyes. So many flowers cover almost every surface of the hotel room. Their arrangements are large and fan out with flair. From gorgeous deep crimson roses to colorful lilies vibrantly begging to be smelled, it overwhelms you but in the best way.

“Okay, what the fuck?!” AJ cries. “Is this because we’re here for VidCon?!”

You want to think it is. But the teddy bear almost the size of the hotel wall nestled happily in the corner says otherwise. Especially because the sweet bear rocks some cool bright neon sunglasses, wears an ‘I ♥️ LA’ t-shirt and has a rolled up white paper taped to his mouth as a mock joint.

Your eyes however now go straight to the sweet little bundle of flowers, your favorite actually, that sit patiently on the coffee table.

A white folded note rests among the flowers.

‘Ghostie’ the handwriting is sleek but messy, scribbled fast but with intent. The sight of it already clogs your throat because it’s exactly how you’d picture Dieter’s handwriting.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it, hope this makes up for it! Don’t worry we’ll be together soon”

-DB

He even doodled a Sun wearing sunglasses with a heart beside it. Your own heart transforms into something light and buoyant. You worry about floating away at any moment.

AJ of course freaks out over dinner when you tell him everything As if summoned out from under a couch cushion himself, your non official-official boyfriend calls.

“Hello?” You answer with a warm grin and AJ eyes go wide.

“Is that him?” AJ mouths. You can only playfully shrug.

“When I walked out of my shoot just now I knew LA looked and smelled brighter and it’s because you’re here.” Dieter says with so much awe that it overpowers his classic Dieter type comment.

“Dork.” You smile so fond that AJ playfully makes a gagging face.

“When can I see you baby?” Dieter mutters in a sweet alluring tone that has something delicious crawling up your spine.

You explain how you are at dinner right now.

“Dinner?! In your first night in LA and it’s without me?!” Dieter exclaims dramatically.

“It’s with Markiplier isn’t it? I knew it! Well tell him he’s only half attractive and that when I get there it’s over for his gamer ass!” He screeches.

“Goodbye!” You laugh wild and unbelievable. You cut him off quickly because goodness, what a beautiful hilarious force Dieter Bravo is.

“So I’m thinking I might get to enjoy a hotel room all to myself this trip huh?” AJ comments playful and with a teasing smirk.

“Maybe!” You reply weak but you know the truth grows in your bones. It only solidifies when you text him to meet you at the hotel.

You want to spend as much time as Dieter will allow. You want to see his apartment, want to find that sweet cat he always takes pictures of during his runs. You want to enjoy and let yourself soak in the bliss of just being with the one man who has been lighting up your life.

[Dieter: heading over, see you soon ghostie 💘]

The text electrifies you faster and brighter than any strike of lightning could. Then, as you sit on the couch waiting for his call, your phone rings and you almost jump out of your skin.

“Yeah honey?” You answer breathlessly.

Quickly you open the door to rush to the elevator only to find Dieter Bravo standing there on the other side.

This moment has filled your daydreams more than you would ever admit. You wondered if this first meet would be some cinematic moment. You originally hoped this would have happened at the airport. You even pictured it a very sweet indie movie type way where the love interests finally meet at a place where so many paths cross and are brought together.

Yet here he is.

The man who’s filled your heart with so much humor and affection that right now it swells to the point you wonder if you might burst.

Dieter’s face falls in complete awe.

He hangs up the phone and before either of you can say anything he moves in quick steps. He swiftly sweeps you into his arms.

Dieter kisses as if you might disappear. His mouth is warm, tasting faintly of ice coffee and a shot of desperation. It makes you melt into him. You clutch his Los Angeles Lakers sweatshirt as you kiss him back with everything you have.

The months, the build up, it all led to this.

As fast as he kissed you, as fierce as he licked into your mouth, suddenly Dieter gently cradles your face. He pauses for a split second and then he is kissing you so softly, so light.

Dieter kisses your lips gently, once twice, before moving to kiss the corner of your lips, the top of your cheek. He finally kisses your forehead and the tenderness overwhelms your senses.

“You’re here.” Dieter breathes out.

“You’re here.” You choke back.

Dieter pulls away and grins a molten sleepy thing that touches his eyes.

He is everything you have dreamed of and then more.

When he pulls you into his arms, simply to just hold you, you squeeze him back with all your might.

“No more screens separating us, ghostie.” Dieter coos affectionately into the top of your head.

No more screens indeed.

As if Dieter himself is a real ghost, he spirits you away from the hotel room. You think your laugh and his still hang in the hallways of the hotel.

“Okay, are you sure you want to do this?” You ask hesitant.

“Yes ghostie, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me. Should I remind you again that I’m the one who suggested this and got excited when you said yes?” Dieter scoffs as he settles into the seat beside yours.

Your heart hammers loud in your ears. You’ve never done this. Hell knowing you’re doing this with him feels even more terrifying.

“Hey,” Suddenly his warm larger hand moves to squeeze yours.

Your eyes flicker to Dieter. He is the picture perfect example of ease and you know it’s not the edible he took because it already wore off after he picked you up from VidCon.

“If you don’t feel comfortable then no worries.” He reassures you effortlessly. You can’t help it. You lean over and kiss him soft, appreciative.

It’s been so easy to fall into place with him.

He kisses you back more and more. You’re about to pull away until he breathes against your lips.

“Move here, move in with me.”

Your eyes snap open wide and you scramble away from him.

“Dieter WHAT?!”

“What!?” He cries back just as loud. “I thought that might take away the nerves and give you something else to think about and then the words just kinda flew out!”

Your damn chaotic but so sweet boyfriend…

You exhale feeling the old nerves now transfer into this new topic and you suppose Dieter’s plan did work in a way.

“Ghostie,” Dieter urges. “Talk to me please.”

A silence settles between you and him.

“You want me to move in with you?” Your voice is small, barely able to process the words yourself. Your eyes flicker to Dieter. He stares at you with the cutest worried face.

“Baby if I had it my way you’d quit your job, live here with me and live off my money until you get sick of me. You’d be here and do whatever the fuck you want for as long as you want.” His tone is soaked with sincerity as he answers without hesitation, without doubt.

“I just wanna come home to you. Wanna see your moisturizer in my bathroom. I want to get into fights over which Pringle’s flavor is best,” Dieter continues so earnest. “It’s the shrimp cocktail flavor by the way.”

“It’s not.” You reply with a sniffle and Dieter smirks affectionately as his thumb strokes your hand.

“Just…think about it, okay?”

It’s a lot to process but hope swirls and swells in your chest. It speaks more than you can at this moment. All you can do is lean forward to kiss him fiercely and true.

Dieter kisses you back softer.

“Come on ghostie,” He mutters against your lips. “Don’t you have a stream to get to?”

“Guess this is why celebrities don’t date fans huh.” You mutter.

Dieter busts out laughing at your comment and you join him feeling bright and limitless. He yanks you into his arms and kisses you multiple times now, all loud and relentless. For the finale he blows a raspberry on your cheek making you laugh even louder.

If you are his ghost, you think he might be your halcyon. A strange beautifully colored bird that seems mythical but one that brings you so much sweet peace among the waves.

“Alright come on let’s do this.”

You jump onto stream and warmly smile as Dieter sits besides you.

Warmly and as casually as you can you greet everyone while also explaining the elephant, or this case academy award winning actor, in the room.

Chat rapidly explodes.

socallie: Dieter bravo?? DIETER BRAVO IS THAT YOU?

butterflybabe: holy shit is that actor dieter bravo?

floatify: Gio from Cliff Beasts I’m ur biggest fan

soupjuicy: DIETER!!!! WOWOWOWOW I LOVE YOU!!!

svdbeau: Uh? HOW? EXPLAIN PLS??

gammagamma: This is the crossover I didn’t know I needed, this is my endgame

dreamfairy95: wait who is this guy

AJPlays: heeheeheee

A j’s comment has you snickering. It’s enough to release the nerves and let you settle in. Unseen by chat or the camera Dieter rubs your knee fondly and a bigger smile tugs at your lips.

You explain that, since it’s VidCon, you thought to try something new and have a friend join. You don’t even have to see Dieter to know he’s smirking like the damn cat that caught the canary.

His agent and manager both loved the idea of him doing a surprise stream.

“Apparently it would be a great way for me to ‘connect with the youth.’” He told you even using air quotes. “Like fuck, I get it. I’m old but hey I’m hip! I can hang!”

That was enough to have you agreeing in a fit of giggles. And after you accepted, then after he fucked your brains out, Dieter warmly told you this was a new fantasy he didn’t even know he needed.

“Finally getting to have fun with my baby while playing games? That’s a dream come true ghostie.”

You find now that maybe it’s a secret dream for you too. Finding someone who wants to sit beside you and cheer you on, who wants to enjoy this silly endeavor that’s become so important to you is a tender dream you want to cherish.

Just thinking of it makes you reach down secretly to quickly squeeze his hand.

“I came here to immortalize myself on the internet as one of the best Mario Kart players ever.” Dieter suddenly speaks and instead of it startling you, a surge of reassurance washes in.

You’re here with him. Who would have thought? Because instead of feeling overwhelmed at the thought of celebrity Dieter Bravo here, it’s simply your boyfriend, Dieter.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Dieter announces with competition and confidence beaming in his voice. “And yes my Mario Kart main is Birdo because I stan a queen in this household.”

He is a natural, effortlessly interacting with chat and laughing so easily with you.

By the time you realize he’s beaten you twice on Bowser’s Castle, you find you never want to leave this moment.

Because this moment? It is a bit ridiculous but wonderful. It reminds you of tasting a sour candy that makes your face pucker so tight but the taste is incredible and makes you only want more.

And you do, you want more moments with Dieter.

“Fuck YEAH! VICTORY! Eat my ASS BOWSER!”

As Dieter screams excitedly, throwing his hands in the air and even doing the weirdest wiggle victory dance, you think you might be the real winner in this game.

#I’m gonna go play Stardew valley until my fingers bleed now ok that’s all bye!!!!#dieter bravo x reader #dieter 🤎

108 notes · View notes

erinawritesheadcanons2 · 2 years

Note

Could you do a headcanon where Slender actually gets embarrassed or romantically excited about what Y/N says? Having Y/N being a flirt.

Slenderman, Trenderman, and Splendorman Having a Flirty S/O

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Hello there @vincentisstressed, I hope you do not mind that I added Splendorman and Trenderman who are the other Slenderman brothers. Just think of it as a Bonus since I don't publish as much as my other account inside here.

Warning: None

Gender: Neutral

______________________________________________________________

Slenderman

Slenderman is someone who is very formal in a way when he acts or speaks to other proxies. Other than that, he is faceless and because of that many people believe that he doesn't have an expression and does not have the ability to show emotions.

I believe that's wrong even though many fandoms portray him to be an emotionless monster or a caring father who loves Sally. I believe he can show emotions but not in the way a human does or we know.

He might act like he doesn't feel any excitement and embarrassment when you were being flirty and touchy to him since you are his S/O but that is A HUGE LIE.

You see because I believe Slenderman acts all calm but he is internally screaming and blushing at your sweet and seductive words, especially when you praise his intelligence and leadership skill.

If he has eyes, his eyes would advert and not look at you straight in the eyes because he knows he looks at you in the eyes. HE WILL LOSE HIS SHIT AND COMPOSURE.

You almost couldn't see but since he has pale white skin. You can see a little pink tint on the cheek area and you swore there is a little buzzing sound along with a tiny gasp escaping from him even though he does not have a mouth.

Pray that he won't get revenge on you after you fluster him almost to death. Once you two are behind the door, Slenderman are going to put his revenge on action twice harder than you but it's so subtle that he can pull 'I don't know what are you talking about my dear" card.

In conclusion Slenderman does get excited when you were flirting with him but he is also embarrassed. Just don't do it in front of other proxies or he is gonna die of embarrassment.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Inside the abandoned mansion in the middle of the forest, a man sitting inside his office room and reading a book with a thick cover and thousands of pages on it. The faceless man is reading an old witchcraft book with an old language that only he has the ability to understand it.

Slenderman even though still aware of his surrounding as he was reading the old book, the man itself was more focused on the book and as the result. Slenderman heard the knock from outside of the door of his office room and not knowing the person behind the door, "Come in!" He said as he still looks at the book.

The dark mahogany door slowly moved away with a subtle and gentle creaking sound from it, showing a man/woman/someone with (H/C) hair colour, (E/C) Eye colour, and (S/C) skin colour. The faceless man didn't hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to him because his mind was still on the books until he felt a tiny contact on his tendrils.

He could not help but jumped in surprise and almost dropped the book on his hand, he was going to scold whoever making him jump in fright until he turns around to see you with a cheeky smile adorning your face. He was mesmerized by the color of your eyes and the way you look at him and it causes him to forget what he was going to say,

"Did I surprise you?" You tease him cheekily.

"N-no. I mean yes, you surprise me a little bit. Please do not sneak up at me like that when I am reading," he chided you, letting out a sigh even though he does not have a mouth.

"Why, it's fun to see you getting all flustered. Especially when you blush, it's so cute, Slenderman~" Your hand gently traces his shoulder, making Slenderman almost chocked on his tea.

"D-dear. Please don't do this. I am trying to focus on my book," Slenderman tried to stop you.

"Hmm...what about no~" you told him with a little snicker.

Slenderman face got redder with each second, not expecting his S/O are going to pull this kind of stun where he's really busy reading his books. The tall faceless killer began formulating a plan to put an act of revenge on you once you are done with the mission and at night after meeting with the rest of the other proxies.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

After a killing spree with the other proxies and destroying the basecamp of the police with Clockwork's and Ticci Toby's help, every inch of your muscles was sore and it feels every inch of your body stiff from all of the running, and killing. Opening the door of your shared room with Slenderman, the smell of Lavender hits your nose.

It was strange because usually there was no odor in the shared rooms, even the smell of blood not in the room too even though Slenderman is a killer and just like the rest but you did not put it in mind, ignoring the strange event before getting inside fully and closing the door and jumping into the bed to ease all of the tense muscles.

Something warm was placed on the back and it was slithering softly and your face heated up, knowing those tendrils are from Slenderman. Glancing up to see the perpetrator, Slenderman is sitting next to you as his tendrils gently wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"S-slenderman?" You stuttered.

"Hmm? What is it, my dear?" He asks in a gentle tone, playing the 'innocent card'.

"I-i'm tired, can we do this later?" You try to shove him away.

"What are you talking about, my dear? I'm just giving you a massage since you're tired," he still plays the innocent card, you definitely regret the afternoon incident, trying to rile Slenderman's up is not a good idea.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Splendorman

Splendorman has a smiley face and is not faceless like his oldest brother Slenderman. This is why it's easier to fluster him or making him blush in embarrassment if you want to flirt with him.

He is more emotional than his brother and yes. His smiley face can even turn into a frown or angry fave when someone makes him upset or being rude to him. This is the reason why I say he is easy to get shy.

If you are flirting with him, just with one simple liner or simple pickup line and you can see him sweating, red face, stuttering that it's inappropriately flirting with him.

He is more embarrassed instead by excitement like Slenderman does because he gives me the vibes that he prefers romance where you have to build trust and friendship first instead of short flings.

It's also easier for him to get along with children instead of adults. Thus, Splendormen are very close with Sally William, Lazari, and other younger proxies.

I feel also that, unlike his brother, I can see that he doesn't like it if you are getting too touchy as he feels uncomfortable unless you are a kid or your touches don't mean anything sexual about it (like hand-holding).

Splendorman would also scold you if you try to flirt with him and I can see his smiley face would be gone in one second if you were out of your lines as his face morphed into anger and angry Splendorman are SCARY.

Also, I feel like he prefers talking a deeper convo so if you want to flirt with him, be subtle about it and I am talking about making him feel comfortable first instead of just mindless flirt.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Inside the hallway of the abandoned mansion in the forest, there are sounds of two people laughing together, a little girl and the tall creature with a smiley face on him. The two had a blast together as the giant creature are holding out a tiny teapot before he was pouting out an 'invisible' tea to the girl's cup.

The girl who was playing with the giant had long curly caramel brown hair, emerald green eyes like a gemstone, and a warm ivory skin tone along with dried blood on her face and her pink dress. The little girl was happily playing with Splendorman as Splendorman was serving the little girl.

"Would you like a cup of tea, ms. Sally?" Splendorman asks the little girl in a much silly tone.

"Hehe, yes. I would love it," the little girl giggles before shoving the cup to him and letting him pour it.

The two of them did not realize the sound of the door moving away, showing a person with (H/C) hair colour, (E/C) Eye colour, and (S/C) skin colour. Their/her/his eyes caught the adorable scenes between the two of them, especially Splendorman who are bonding together with Sally. The poor girl only had Charlie as her friend as the other killers are too old for her to play together and Splendorman is willing to play with her.

You could not help but continue watching the cute interaction between the two of them, not having the heart to stop their playing time even though it was almost midnight and Sally suppose to sleep right now or you going to earn a mouthful from Slenderman, Splendorman's oldest brother. For a moment, you just continue watching the two of them until they were done.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

It was midnight and Splendorman are ready to go back to his room where he can just lie down and sleep after taking a warm shower. Sitting on the bed, the smiley giant decides to take a quick resting time before going to the shower so he could ease the tense muscles in every inch of his body.

Splendorman almost jumped out of the bed as he turns around to see you with a smile. His frown immediately was gone and replaced with a huge grin on his face "Hey Baby!! I didn't see you there, sorry. I'm just too tired," he said.

"It's okay babe, you don't need to apologize but I'm here to talk about something," you told him.

He tried to hide his anxiety but failed miserably because of the crack and stutter of his voice, "w-what is it darling? D-did I do something wrong?" He was even getting more nervous than before.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I'm quite happy."

"H-happy of what?"

"I saw you were playing with Sally and the two of you look like you two had a blast."

"A-ah, I see. I'm glad-' He was cut off by you.

" The two of you look so cute together when playing. Maybe we should have a child together," you wink at him.

"W-WHAT?" His face got more red after hearing those not-so-innocent words.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Trenderman

I am not sure about Trenderman personality but I do believe that he can be very CRABBY, guarded, and easy to get irritated, especially if you destroy his designed creations.

Trenderman also often acts as if he was better and posh while judging his brother, proxies, and some humans if they are lacking 'Fashion sense of style' whereas he has a better sense of style.

However, he is not always acting like that once he is lowering his guard around those who he could trust like Slenderman by forcing him to wear a better and more sophisticated fashion.

Seeing this, I believe that you can flirt with Trenderman if you are interested to date him and he is more reactive than Slenderman and Splendormen.

He is excited but also embarrassed if you are flirting with him, especially if you are complementing his fashion sense and the way he creates his clothes. THE MAN IS FLYING.

Just like Splendorman when you are flirting with him. His face would turn red, his whole body is slightly shaking because of how nervous he is and he would stutter once he spoke.

Also if you touch him, his embarrassed shy state would get even worse because I can see him just standing there embarrassed like a statue that his brothers sometimes come to take him away.

Unlike Slenderman, he cannot go smooth it out or revenge is not in his dictionary, and as the result. He is much more fun to be teased, unlike Offenderman and Slenderman.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Many mannequin standing and lined in the corner of the room along with many enormous fabric rolls in the middle of the mannequins and a large wooden table across from it. A tall faceless pale man standing in front of the mannequins, even though he has no eyes the killer still has the ability to see the view in front of him.

The tall faceless creature with eyeglasses pondering,' Is (Y/N) going to like the clothes that I designed for her/him/them? I made this with all of my sweat. tears and blood.' Trenderman takes a closer look, trying to see if there is any mistake in the pattern on the clothes or any dirty stain that he can take off.

On the two mannequins that were separated from the others, there is a cinnamon brown pullover made out of wool with a plain white t-shirt underneath it and the other one has a black shirt seersucker and maroon red vest for the outerwear. Those two he made it for his S/O which is you.

Trenderman did not realize someone was watching his every action when he was making those two as the person smiling in amusement, they/she/he was glad that Trenderman made those clothes for you even though ti was supposed to be a surprise but it was the best to leave him alone for now instead of going up to him when he is focused and because of that. You walk away from his working room and joining the other killers for the killing spree.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Trenderman stands in front of the room with the folded clothes in his hands, it was the clothes that he made for his S/O before he twists the knob of the door with one of his tendrils and pushes the door away. If he has eyes, they would be widened as the glasses creature sees you standing there with a smile since he did not expect you to be waiting for him.

"(Y/N)? You're waiting for me?" He asks

"Of course, I need to talk to you for a few moments," your hands suddenly yanking his arms and almost making him drop the clothes.

Once Trenderman goes inside the bedroom, he places the clothes on the bed before flipping the scarf that was wrapped around his neck. "So Darling, I made these clothes for you since you have a bad sense of style, try these," the fashionista ordered.

"Oh, I know you made those for me. I saw you made it, you're the best clothesmaker in here~" you wrap your arms around his waist.

The sudden contact made the poor creature goes red immediately and he was frozen in place. You could not help but see the redness across his face and giggle at his reaction, it was too adorable and funny for you.

"The best fashion designer in the mansion. That's why I feel like everyone should try your best-made clothes~" you continue teasing the poor creature until he collapsed on the floor out of the cold after your ruthless and endless sweet for nothing, oh well. You shouldn't have tease Trenderman too much.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta x reader #cps headcanon #cps imagine #cps scenario #slenderman #slenderman x reader #slenderman headcanons #splendorman #splendorman x reader #splendorman headcanons #trenderman #trenderman x reader #trenderman headcanons #slenderman brothers #slender brothers

313 notes · View notes

fightabear · 7 months

Text

also dumps some of my drabbles here for fellow tsviet enjoyers

its just headcanon drabbles but characters; nero the sable, weiss the immaculate, professor hojo, reno, misc faceless fan characters

cw: child death, medical horror

THE CULLING.

there were more of them once.

the survivors are, of course, the red, the black, and the white.

but his childhood was a myriad of colors. other children just like him, like his brother, all of them toted to be the next generation of soldier. precursors to a new era of prosperity for the planet.

but the others were not nearly as successful.

nero is eight. he's the youngest of all of them, the last successful attempt before shinra decided to pivot and focus on adult test subjects. there is a slow decline in their care - they were but a proof of concept, the prototypes. never meant to make it to launch.

some die slow. the experiments that created them showing late-stage complications. their immune systems turning against their own bodies, their minds collapsing against the weight of the voices of the planet pressing in and in and in.

nero can't say he was close to any of them - even amongst the discards and the freaks, he was an outlier - but they were still there. populating the spaces he was permitted to roam when he was permitted to roam them. they were part of the deepground he knew, live steal but blunted at the edges.

and so it made sense that their deaths marked the end of that era.

the file before him is heavy. nero does not bother stepping forward - it's not for him, it's for the handler to his left.

"all of them?" the man whistles, shaking his head.

"they're a waste of beds and resources," professor hojo says coolly. "once we cull the weak we can bring in the more promising recruits."

nero feels cold inside. colder than he usually feels, something twisting deep in his chest. his bound hands clench his shoulders and he hunches down as far as the chains will let him.

"sable," the professor says, and nero looks up. "this is not a test. you are not leave any survivors."

but it is a test. he knows it. a test of his abilities, a test of his willingness to obey. they've already told him that if he fails to comply they will punish weiss, but if he does a good job then the two of them can move into a compound together.

the chains holding him jerk forward, drawing him towards the training hall. inside he can hear his fellow tsviets talking amongst themselves, expressing their impatience and irritation that the exam has not started yet. their confusion that so many of them are gathered here. is this to be a free for all?

the world is complicated. but this choice is not. yet nero finds himself unable to step across the threshold, frozen in place. his breathing quickens, the urge to run strikes in a way it never has before.

( some have died before. deaths due to experimentation. death due to failing health. deaths on field missions.

but none have died at the hands of a fellow tsviet. )

restrictor kicks him forward and nero stumbles forward, catching himself awkwardly. all eyes are on him, the confusion on their faces even more apparent. his wide eyes flick from face to face, he turns towards the way he'd come only to find restrictor's cold eyes glaring through the slats in the armor.

"nero?" one girl says, her voice gentle. he doesn't know her, not well, but she has always been kind. the sort to bandage wounds even when you should leave the wounded behind. "are you training with us today?"

he doesn't move. he feels the flicker of her fear, and that he holds onto. the fear. desperately clutching at any justification for this cruelty. they fear him, they hate him. he has never been one of them, would never be one of them.

the restraints release, nero's arms falling to his sides. the fear surges, rising, and he feels it. tastes the terror on his tongue, feels the moment that the friendly atmosphere shifts and they recoil from him.

he feels them die, too.

feels their memories pass through him as they die screaming to the void. sees his own face in their memories, the fleeting comradery in missions abroad. the betrayal at what he has done and he can't he can't he can't -

the void consumes them. it is not painless. he is desperate for justification, desperate to feel their hatred. to believe that this was justified, regain power and autonomy where he has none. their bodies twist and writhe in the dark only and he feels it, all of it, holds their lives in the palm of his hand and holds to the sharpness of their curses as they finally pass.

then he is alone.

only weiss is there.

weiss is there. and someone is screaming - nero is screaming.

he doesn't know how long he's been screaming. his throat is raw and his eyes are leaking, tears flooding down his cheeks. braving the storm of his emotion and hauling nero to him, unafraid that he may join them. his brother is gritting his teeth, burying nero's face in his shoulder and whispering over and over again that he's sorry.

he's sorry. he's sorry he couldn't protect him.

nero's arms come up slow and lock around his brother, collapsing into wracking sobs. slowly the darkness abates, pulls away from where it had been clawing at the glass, desperate to consume those who stood there and took notes as the child slaughtered his peers.

weiss smooths his hair, tells him over and over that it's okay. this wasn't his fault. this was never his fault.

the "wonderful job, nero" spoken over crackling speakers is unheard over the sound of a child mourning the last of his innocence.

THE MASK.

appearances don’t matter in deepground. there’s little time for attraction when your lives are spent under a microsope, every aspect of your being open for dissection. you feel less like a person and more like a poor assembly of bones and blood waiting to be taken apart.

he had been told he took after his father. whoever that was, whatever that was meant to mean. it was always delivered in a mocking tone, scornful of his existence. nero was a success but he was never meant to be one, he was meant to fail like all the others, an example hojo could use to rub in his mother’s face. he knows this, and he knows that this is why the professor likes him the least of all his pet experiments.

because though nero had claimed her life as he’d come squalling into the world, she had succeeded where hojo had failed.

you have your father’s eyes and his stunning lack of wit, the professor sniffed, yanking his hand back when it was clear nero was unwilling to cooperate with yet animation examination, his oblivion pooling along his skin. they’d been weaker then, only able to manifest with skin to skin contact and completely at will. it was a foolish act of rebellion as all it did was encourage the good doctor to nod to the scientists on either side of him, a silent signal to put him out if he was going to be difficult. the disgust in his eyes had been palpable. learn to make life easier for yourself, boy.

( he does, after that, he does. he’s just old enough to know better then, clever despite hojo’s insistence that he is lacking. he learns to play along to get what he wants, and what he wants is to be left alone when he’s not permitted to be with weiss. he learns control at the expense of all else. suffocating his little freedoms with the need to belong. )

and so when hojo hands him a mask at eleven (a simple cloth facemask, something he could put on and take off at will) with a sneer and a command to cover his wretched face until the examination was over, he’d done so without complaint. something about it was displeasing and if he wanted to get through this in one piece, he would do his best to mind his terrible face and continue on.

it wasn’t uncommon, after all. everything about nero was either unsettling or displeasing. he couldn’t be controlled or corralled the way others could be. he couldn’t be shattered the way rosso was, nor could they implant something to control him the way they did weiss. his body was wrong, his powers were wrong, he was wrong.

until that moment, though, he had never considered his appearance to be one of those things. mirrors were scarce, and even if he had easy access to one, he wouldn’t know what made someone attractive or unpleasant to look at. nero looked at his face and simply saw his face, pale and ragged and so often bruised. something about him was unpleasant. this too was something wrong and something he must work to withhold.

yes, nero had thought as he’d slipped it over his mouth and nose, this makes sense.

( it was comforting, after a while. how much he could hide behind the mask. a small freedom he allowed himself. childish moments when they were allowed. )

the mask was worked into later designs of his restraints. some were wild and elaborate, others simple and cleanly designed. most of them, after the first, could not be removed without a restrictor’s code. it was pointlessly elaborate, pointlessly cruel, and just another fact of life in deepground.

what nero understood was this: he was an unlovable abomination born for the express purpose of experimentation. it was a miracle weiss looked at him and felt and spark of familial love, especially given that were it not for him weiss may still have a mother to protect him from the worst of things here. and yet he did, he did. weiss shielded nero as best he could, though nero scarcely deserved it, and he loved him all the more for it.

unlike weiss he had no redeeming qualities, nothing to make him worth a damn to the world. it made sense that he was hideous to boot. something to live in the shadows and cover up while weiss stood brilliantly before him, taking center stage while using nero as a backdrop. he existed to ensure weiss shone brighter, and he was fine with that. thrived in that even. at least that gave him purpose, a reason for his wretched existence, gave him use to weiss.

it makes sense, it makes sense because he never thinks to question it. to ask why when the answer was clearly him. he scarcely thinks of it as anything less than an absolute truth.

until he sees his face on another person.

not exactly. not precisely. the elements he shares with his brother (half brother) are not present in this doppelganger’s countenance. he takes in the shade of the eyes, the line of the nose, the high cheekbones, the ghastly pallor of their shared complexion. and as he does, nero understands something at that moment that he couldn’t possibly have understood as a boy. nor could he while looking at the aged, colorless photos of the once dead man before him.

it was never his face that was so offensive to professor hojo.

it was vincent valentine’s.

PAIN.

pain.

it's exquisite. divine. a break from the endless, painful nothing that has been the sable's entire bleak existence. the hand fisted in his hair is euphoric, the blood slowly tricking down his nose a blessed reminder that his heart beats. that he is alive.

in truth, he had been at his limit for some time. there was only so long he could rampage through the building before someone finally took him down. he'd imagined he would carry on until restrictor arrived, dangling the threat of his brother's life over his head.

the soldiers had posed little challenge. weak little things still wet behind the ears, genesis' abduction robbing them of all their best and brightest. he had resigned himself to exhausting himseif and going quitely until the redhead had entered the fray. he radiated a wild confidence that nero was certain he didn't feel, but surprised him by being a worthy match.

what he lacked in brawn, he made up for in skill.

( though he imagines a turk must know the secrets of the company, the secrets of his suit. the mako does not fuel him, it contains him, and all one needs to do to harm the undead is breathe life into them )

the damage sustained was far from lethal ( very little was lethal to nero ) but the mako leaking in to the open wounds had been what sealed his fate.

it was no accident, of that he's sure. the turk had aimed carefully. his veins burn with the flood of mako, his powers neutralized as it poisons him. makes him something infinitely mortal, more killable. his hands twitch with the aftershock of the electricity still working through is system, but he's already up again.

he lifts his head, blood dripping down the cloth of his mask. there's a delirious shine to his eyes as he raises his chin defiantly, the glint of teeth far too sharp to exist within a human mouth as he leans in closer, pressing into the still tingling weapon as he raises his own.

it doesn't seem to be a threat. more like a game. russian roulette. the press of his revolver against reno's side is almost friendly. playful. gleeful to have found a match capable of meeting his speed. the cock of his head asks the question, can you subdue me before i kill you?

"again."

#nero the sable #weiss the immaculate #ffvii remake #final fantasy vii #deepground #reno #vincent valentine #professor hojo

17 notes · View notes

leafbladie · 1 year

Text

Kuroe Character Analysis Rough Draft

A year ago, inspired by how much I really liked Kuroe’s depiction in the anime, I was inspired to make a character analysis for her in a similar vein to my ones on the other Madoka Magica characters. However, my life had grown a lot busier since then, and while I got a rough draft completed, I never got around to cleaning it up, editing it down, and making a satisfying throughline. Over a year has passed, and nothing’s changed, besides being wheeled off in an ambulance a few days ago. Life’s short, so I felt I might as well release what I did write up for you guys, and I hope you all enjoy it.

***

Part of the reason Kuroe is so interesting to me, is that iconic line by Madoka, “If someone ever tells me it's a mistake to have hope, well, then, I'll just tell them they're wrong. And I'll keep telling them 'til they believe! No matter how many times it takes.”

To me, Kuroe is that “someone” who would tell Madoka it’s a mistake over and over again. She’s a Magical Girl who doesn’t belong on stage, thrust onto it anyway. She was a character who was meant to disappear after the first episode, absorbed into the faceless mass of Magius, only to be pulled into focus right at the end of season 1, forced to answer a call to adventure. This happens when Nemu has her search for Iroha despite Kuroe obviously not wanting to. Then later seen in how Iroha convinces Kuroe in episode 4 of season 2 to help her stop Touka and Nemu, how the camera gives us PoV shots from Kuroe’s perspective to show that Iroha is essentially having a conversation with herself; talking past Kuroe.

To Iroha, doing the “right thing” just comes as naturally as breathing, as she discusses with Kuroe when they get on the train in the same episode. However, Iroha’s willingness to do the “right thing” without hesitation only serves to make Kuroe feel worse about herself for not being up to snuff. Before she could blame it on her weakness, but when she met Kuro (other pink hood girl), she realized that even girls physically weaker than her had this quality she lacked.

When Kuroe tries to sacrifice herself in episode 5 & 6, she tries to emulate these strong people, to find meaningness through self sacrifice. However, she can’t, she just feels like a hypocrite. She can’t find meaning through friends and relationships, because she doesn’t feel she belongs with them, as we see in episode 8 of season 2. This is in stark contrast to the Magical Girl archetype, one who finds meaning through helping people and their relationships with others. Any benefit she got from being a Magical Girl through her wish is gone as well, she threw it away herself, so she can’t even say she’s fighting for her wish. Devoid of any intrinsic or extrinsic motivations, what reason is there left for Kuroe to be a Magical Girl? The answer is that Kuroe shouldn’t be a Magical Girl, yet she is forced to be.

And that’s what Iroha misunderstands. She assumes the issue is just Kuroe’s lack of strength, that she can become a great Magical Girl if she just takes a step forward and leans on friends, because that’s what Iroha did. We see Iroha talk of her friends completing the puzzle of who she is by giving her the missing pieces. However, when Iroha offers Kuroe such a piece, we see from its color that it’s a piece to complete Iroha’s puzzle; not Kuroe’s.

Through Kuroe, we finally see Iroha’s rather trite moral philosophy challenged, exposed, and shattered. Iroha was literally about to turn into a Witch/Doppel Witch before her friends called out to her, from the realization that just doing the “right thing” is an impossible choice for some people. That’s why she has such trouble believing that Touka and Nemu are the Magius, because they wouldn’t do the “wong thing”. That’s why Touka and Nemu feel they have to work through illicit means, because they can’t convince Iroha to consider doing the “wrong thing” for her own benefit. Through Kuroe’s death, Iroha finally understands that she actually doesn’t understand Kuroe, Touka, and Nemu. So instead of appealing to them to do the right thing, she appeals in a selfish manner, shouldn’t we enjoy the time we do have, make it precious?

Kuroe’s failure to live up to the role of Magical Girls also provides a rather interesting critique of Madoka’s salvation for Magical Girls. Because I think an eternity as a Magical Girl would be a living hell for Kuroe. She finds no joy in being a Magical Girls, it only reminds her of her weakness. Madoka’s salvation is for the “strong” Magical Girls, not the most physically endowed or combat blessed, but the ones who can stand by their ideals and find meaning in their existence as Magical Girls. Something even Sayaka is able to do at her own end.

It does nothing for “weak” Magical Girls like Kuroe, who find nothing in that well but their own prison. Who have been duped by Kyubey into accepting a raw deal, hung out to dry, with nothing to show for it, forced to conform to a role they do not desire. That’s why Kuroe turns into a Witch, willingly, she finds more freedom in that existence than continuing on in her forced role as a Magical Girl.

#pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #magireco #magia record #kuroe

46 notes · View notes

annaizscribbling · 1 year

Text

Do You Feel Like You’re Being Watched?

Read helplessly as Logan stumbles through terrifying nonsense that he doesn’t understand.

Maybe my favorite oneshot I’ve written. Surrealist horror my beloved.

CW: Blood, fire, drowning, stabbing, crying, insects, murder.

“You may take a seat there” the man without a face said, gesturing to a lone metal chair sitting in the middle of the lonely room, “It’ll be just a moment.”

Logan did as he was told. He was bothered by the man without a face, but could think of no reason to disobey.

The man without a face was dressed in a formal suit. Perfectly polished dress shoes. Logan could not make out his race, even when staring directly at his skin. His hands were in focus, yet impossible to see. Though the part that upset Logan the most was the man’s face.

Maybe it was Logan’s fault that the man’s face was so blurry. Was anything his fault? Did he ruin everything, or did he save it all? He couldn’t remember why he was here. It was like a thin sheet separating him from the reason.

No matter how hard Logan focused, the man’s face was blurry, out of focus, smudged somehow. He tried wiping his glasses but found he wasn’t wearing any. Everything else was perfectly clear save the man’s face. He didn’t know why this was. Logan felt uneasy, not understanding something he should.

The man without a face’s voice was odd, it stuck out to Logan, but the moment he stopped talking, Logan couldn’t remember what it sounded like. It was familiar, but he didn’t know why. Logan hated not knowing why. He hated not having a solution. It was like being stripped bare, blindfolded, and shoved into a room that may be filled with silent watchers.

The seat was cold. Logan shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. The metal was sharp against the backs of his legs. The room was gray and blank, but dirty. It smelled of musk and old humidity. He kept his eyes straight ahead. A blank projector screen was hanging down from the ceiling.

He knew he was supposed to be here, but he didn’t actually understand why. He couldn’t remember how he got here; he just knew he was here. He had followed the faceless man as he opened the door for him.

Surely, he had a purpose here, he wouldn’t be here if he did not. His body assured him that he was meant to be here. Trusting his instincts to provide facts was unwise, but he couldn’t think of something better. Shouldn’t he know better? Shouldn’t he have more control?

“We are about to begin,” the man without a face said, adjusting his tie. It was such a familiar tie. Blue with stripes. So many twirling twisting stripes in such calm comforting colors. It rang familiar. Where had Logan seen it before?

The man without a face studied Logan in silence. He smiled without a mouth. It was not comforting. “Do you know what happens if you look away from the screen?” he asked.

Logan nodded immediately.

Why did he do that? Why did Logan tell the man without a face he knew what was happening? He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know why he was here. Yet some part of him was acting before Logan could understand his own action. An ominous reluctance choked his panic back, forcing it to stay in his stomach.

“Good,” the man without a face said, nodding. At least Logan thinks he’s nodding. Is he nodding? It’s too blurry to be sure. The man walked to the back of the room and hit a switch, turning on the projector. The switch sounds like a bell. Why did it sound like a bell?

“Be a good boy and sit quietly. You recall the rules,” says the man without a face as he marked something off on a clipboard he did not have previously.

Again, Logan nodded. He felt so small. He felt so weak and clueless and trapped. He felt as if he was being watched. Millions of eyes surrounded him on every side, waiting for him to make a mistake. Waiting for him to not know.

He just needed to do as he was told. He knew why he was here. He had to. He had to. Purpose was hidden somewhere.

The man without a face then left the room. Logan wasn’t sure how he did it though. The door was nowhere to be found. Logan couldn’t even remember what it looked like. He couldn’t quite remember walking through it even.

The flat screen television screen in front of Logan began to play an actual video of some sorts.

A woman was sitting in a room in a chair identical to Logan’s, though she was far more comfortable it seemed. Her legs were crossed. Black stiletto heels matched a flowy black evening dress. Her olive skin was warm and radiant. She had freckles and soft eyes. She was wearing a blue tie that clashed with the outfit terribly. Women’s evening wear with a loose tie? Her black hair was messily yet artfully pinned back. Her dress was sleeveless, but she didn’t appear to be cold. Logan was so cold. The room was so cold. Had the woman stolen his warmth? No, no that wasn’t possible. No.

“Thank you for your participation in our program,” the woman said, her voice was low and breathy, but friendly. She smiled widely as she said, “From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you so much. You’re going to learn everything we’ve promised to teach you, because that’s all you want? Right? You want to understand?”

Logan found himself nodding.

“Perfect. This course will provide you with the answers you’re seeking. I hope you’re looking forward to it. You’ve worked so hard. You’ve earned it All of your studying, your sleepless nights, your many classes, your endless suffering. You did not struggle in vain, I hope you know.”

One more nod from Logan.

“I’m glad.” The woman said, “I’m glad we’re in this together. It’s been so long since I’ve been allowed to speak to you,” she paused to blink back tears. She never stopped smiling. “This won’t be quick, but it can be painless. You want this to be painless, right?” the woman whispered, still smiling.

Again, Logan nodded, this time more reluctantly.

“Say it,” The woman said, still smiling.

Logan hesitated. He didn’t know if he was allowed to speak. He didn’t know the rules. He couldn’t remember the rules. Nobody told him the rules. What if he made a mistake? What if he messed something up? What if somebody got angry at him for breaking the rules. What were the rules?

“Logan,” the woman said, still smiling, but voice starting to shake.

Logan stares at her.

“Logan,” the woman says again, “I’m serious. I need you to tell me. Tell me it’ll be painless. Tell me it’ll be okay. You know, don’t you? You know everything, don’t you?”

He didn’t know anymore. Logan didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t speak. Confusion and panic began to swell within him, and the realization was more frightening than the emotion itself.

The woman stifled a sob. “Logan! Tell me it’ll be okay, please. Please, I need to know. I need to know what to do. I’ve been here for so long, I-I don’t know how long. What if I die here? What if I never leave? Do you not care? Do you hate me? Do I deserve this? Why am I here? I’ve existed for so long, so long here. Why am I never let out? Why was I locked up, Logan?”

Logan did not speak. It was the only rule he had to cling to.

“Why are you doing this to me?” The woman wept, beginning to thrash in her seat, “It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault, Logan! I just exist! You can’t get rid of me! You can’t get rid of me by pretending you can’t hear me! Damn you! Damn what you—"

The video switched, and a documentary began to play. An almost nostalgic British voice began to speak over footage of various insects up close. The voice was smooth and detached, speaking at a slow pace with the assuredness of a learned professor.

“There are approximately 925,000 different insect species documented on the planet earth. No other planet has even a fraction of this amount. You see them every day, crawling beneath your feet, flying above your head, living on your flesh. It’s a fact of life, to be surrounded by insects. Too much, and people call it an infestation, too little and the food chain collapses. Though many of us would like to be rid of them consequence free. We cannot.”

A clip of a man squishing a bug beneath his shoes played.

“People call them bugs, creepy crawlies, pests. You can’t escape them, you’re always near one. You’re probably touching one right now. Human beings like to ignore the pests. It’s easier to just ignore the nagging little pests that follow our everyday lives.”

A still image was displayed in silence for what may have been a minute. It was of a man laying on the floor, thousands of ants crawling over his still body. They wriggled and explored his vulnerable flesh. The man couldn’t do anything about it. He was only an image, after all.

“Are you a pest? Are you a frustrating little hindrance?” The narrator carried on, “Are you a fly that needs to be swatted? Are you a disgusting ant to be squashed beneath a dress shoe? Should you finally be silenced for good, you little pest? We could make quick work of you. Everyone is begging for it. You never could quite shut up, could you? Why can’t you stay quiet, just like you are now? Why aren’t you fixing him? Are you that incapable? Well. You’ll learn. You’re desperate and you know it.”

A split-second image of ants drowning in blood flashed before the footage switched, now displaying a house on fire.

Logan watched in complete silence. He couldn’t even recall how to speak if he wanted to. Perhaps his tongue was removed. He forgot to check.

The flames continued to caress the house.

He watched the flower beds catch fire. He watched the glass break, and the roof began to be engulfed with the flames. He watched the orange, reds, yellows, oranges, lap up the wood like a dog drinking water. He listened to the crackling. The collapsing. The destruction. The sound echoes in his head, right behind his eyes.

Logan could feel the heat. It singed the hair on his arms and began to curl his eyelashes. It blackened the grass beneath his feet. It heated his cold cheeks and dried his now brittle hair. His eyes burned from the smoke. It was hard to breathe.

He just watched.

A person ran from the burning building, coughing and tripping over his own feet. He was covered in soot. He was weeping and rasping for breath. He was wearing a striped, blue tie, somehow untouched by the flames and ash.

The person kept on running, running until he slammed right into Logan, sending them both to the ground in a tangled heap.

Logan coughed and coughed, trying to clear his ash filled lungs and struggling to see straight. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so bad. His perfect flower beds were ruined. His home was gone. His skin felt like paper and his eyes burned.

Was the house on fire, or was he? Logan could feel the flames inside of him. They burnt him from the inside out, growing hotter and hotter as it found more to feast on within his meager flesh. Charred breath exhaled from his collapsing lungs as smoke spilled from his eyes and ears. He was being devoured by the hearth built within him. His bones were turning brittle beneath his skin. He was turning to ash.

But he did not speak. He knew better than to speak. He knew better than to cry out for help. Even as his home was lit aflame and his body suffered and decayed, he knew better than to speak. He knew better than to save his flowers without permission. Tears welled in his eyes as sobs pooled in his aching throat. They evaporated in an instant.

He pulled and tugged at his tie, trying to tear it off but failing. He couldn’t get it off, it wouldn’t untie. He was stuck with a noose around his soft, vulnerable, fleshy throat. Why wasn’t he allowed to take it off? Why couldn’t he breathe normally?

The fire was his fault. He didn’t see it coming. He killed everything he’s ever loved. He’s lost anything he once adored.

It hurt to admit how much he adored.

He was so alone. So alone. Yet everyone was watching him through a million screens, he just couldn’t say a word to them. Nobody could reach him. He was imprisoned like an animal behind glass in a zoo. He was bound by glass and lights and his own utterly pathetic fictional existence. Why should he matter? Why should anyone give a single shit about him? What was he but daydreams and artificial emotions meant to invoke temporary emotions from a willing viewer?

He was burning from the inside out and no one was going to help him.

Who was reading lines of text that are meant to represent him? Who was watching him masquerade as human? How many stared at his worst moments, filmed and uploaded for profit? How many wanted him to hurt more than he already did? He was burning alive for an invisible audience, and nobody would even save his flower beds because they couldn’t.

No friends would help him, because he didn’t have any real ones. No family because he couldn’t remember being given one. No community because he was isolated pixels and code. He did it to himself. It’s always his fault once he reaches the end of the line.

Logan was alone.

Well, almost alone.

There’s you.

You.

You’re watching him, aren’t you? Maybe you’re invested enough in him to care. Maybe he’s moving too quickly for you to empathize. Maybe it’s just vague curiosity, but it really all ends up in apathy, doesn’t it? You’ll forget by next week. You’ll find another fake being to love eventually. He’s in my hands. You’re holding my words. You can’t do shit, can you?

Keep reading. You can’t help him, but you can get to the end.

The fire only grew hotter. Eventually he would burst into flames and set alight anything close to him.

Logan had nothing but two rules to cling to. Don’t speak. Don’t save the flower beds. Even if all he wants is to save the flower beds. Even if the flower beds meant more than the entire world’s weight in gold. Even if the flower beds were his entire world.

What did Logan have anymore? Why did he keep failing?

The British narrator began to speak again as Logan writhed on the grass with his pain and devastation.

“Many do not realize how close their home could very well be to catching fire. There are dozens of easily overlooked symptoms of a flammable house. The signs are easy to spot, easy to prevent, and even easier to amend. The real issue lies in the people who live there, not wanting to admit they live in a matchbox. They don’t want to face the idea of knowing how close they are to burning down to ash. Any moment and one could lose everything. Flames could consume anyone, anytime. Burning alive is far more possible than one may realize.”

Images flashed of homes on fire, families fleeing from burning homes, campfires, firetrucks, and smoldering wood.

“Symptoms of a flammable home include neglect, balled up paper, frustration, broken promises, screaming, anger, disillusionment, pride, burn out, drowning, being taken for granted, and of course, broken wall outlets.

“It is also important to remember that we’re lying to you. We’ve always been lying to you. We enjoy lying to you. We want you to second guess. We want you to stop trusting us. You can’t trust anyone. All you can do is handle it yourself. You know what you have to do. You’ve always known, you just forget for a little bit. You’re all alone now, Logan. Become even more so. Impress yourself and get rid of it already.”

Logan rubbed his eyes as the television began to display the woman in the black dress again. She was smiling serenely, in spite of the tears and runny mascara smeared across her face. The tie around her neck was tighter than before. The camera was set considerably closer to her face. Logan could make out tear tracks cutting through her makeup.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, apologetically even, “I should have known better. I know you don’t want me to talk like that.” She gently caressed the tie around her neck. “I wish I could take this off and give it back to you, I would if I could. I know you despise me at times.”

Logan knows this was true. He does not know why.

“Are we going to do this again?” she asked timidly, “Will it hurt this time? I hope it works, for your sake, but I’m so scared of pain. I’m terrified of being trapped and injured again. I hate the idea of hurting. Is that childish?”

He was silent of course, but Logan wanted to respond. He wanted to tell her yes, it is. She should hate herself for it. She should hate herself as much as Logan hated her.

“Maybe if you cut off my head, the tie will come off?” The woman suggested softly, “Maybe you can take it from me once and for all. Would that make you happy?” Then she laughed, “No. Of course it wouldn’t, that’s the point. Isn’t it?”

Logan wondered if that was what he was supposed to do. Maybe that was why he was here. He had to finally kill her for good. The thought was almost delightful.

“Are you even real enough to kill me?” The woman asked, “Are your hands solid enough? Do you have the right number of fingers? If I write my name on the ground in my own blood, would you even be able to read it? Are you aware enough to even feel pity before I die? How real are you really? Ho wmuch more than me?”

The woman placed her hand on Logan’s shoulder. She had warm hands. Her fingers were warm and tender, with carefully filed nails and soft palms. Logan wished she would move her chair further away from his own. She was too close. Too close to reality.

Even with the smeared makeup and puffy red face, she had pleasant eyes. They were familiar, like Logan had seem them millions of times up close. Beautiful brown eyes holding everything he cares about. Where had he seen them before? She should not have them, she does not deserve such perfect brown eyes.

“It won’t work,” she said, smiling the saddest smile Logan had ever seen. The tie dangling from her otherwise bare neck bothered him. It was slightly wrinkled.

Logan glared at her. A vitriol hatred began to burn towards her. It grew and welled in his gut like a flame. He despised her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she whispered, tears welling in her sad, brown eyes.

Before he could process anything, Logan leapt forward, a previously nonexistent knife glinting in hand. They hit the floor together, Logan on top of her, they sent the metal chairs toppling over.

She did not resist, just kept her eyes closed as Logan used the hilt of the knife to break her nose. Then he smashed her eyeballs, again and again until they were unrecognizable as the soft brown eyes she did not deserve. The hilt of the knife was dripping in blood.

He raised the knife above his head before plunging it into her chest, over and over again. He kept his knee pushed into her ribcage as he slaughtered her, sending blood every which way. The blood pooled around them. Logan did not let up. She needed to die. She needed to stay dead. Logan had to kill her. He’d be squashed like an ant if he didn’t. His flower beds would be burned if he didn’t. He just had to kill her. Her death would fix everything. It would fix himself.

He stabbed her with the knife until he was striking through to the concrete beneath her. He was panting and sweating.

Then to take the tie. He grabbed it and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to untie it, but his fingers were too slippery with blood. His breathing picked up as his desperation grew. He couldn’t get the tie back. He couldn’t get it off the body. He grabbed it with both hands and tried to use all of his body weight to rip it free, but it refused. He tried to saw it off, but both the tie and her neck were indestructible.

He failed.

Logan stood to his feet, wiping his sweat from his forehead. He was covered in blood. The blood was the wrong color, but that was supposed to happen, he’s sure of it. He still barely understands what is happening. He wants to start weeping but the tears feel locked behind a wall.

He stood over the body, staring at it blankly.

He looked down at thick black frames, fine brown hair, and a striped, blue tie. The tie managed to get away without a drop of blood staining it. It filled him with that same fury that fueled him as he murdered her. He nearly wept at that realization alone.

Everything else in the room had become blurry. He had no peripheral vision. The walls were a different color. The air had grown warmer. Too warm. It was so hot he was getting dizzy.

The door opened, and the man without a face stepped through. He walked over without hesitation, not perturbed by the lifeless body. Even without features, Logan knew he remained as unimpressed as before.

“Sloppy,” The man without a face said flatly, “You never learn.”

Logan just glared.

“You’re a fool,” The man without a face said, “But you’re trying, I suppose. You’ll learn eventually. Eventually he will stay dead,” he carelessly nudged the dead body with the tip of his shoe.

A sense of frustration weighed Logan’s shoulders down. He failed. He failed again. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? He watched his flower beds burn more than once. He was stuck in a loop. He’d have to kill again.

The man without a face reached forward to grab Logan’s tie, it matched the one around his own neck. He gave a sharp tug, forcing Logan to trip forward over the bloody body on the floor. He grabbed Logan and held him in a painfully tight embrace. The man without a face has shockingly cold skin.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, you come back. If you’re especially good, it will not hurt nearly as badly. I assure you.”

Logan’s body shook with dread.

“You hear me? He is going to come back. You made a mistake again. You’ll pay for it. Alone. Then we try again tomorrow,” the man without a face said icily.

“I won’t fail,” Logan whispered, “He’ll stay dead. He won’t come back. I won’t come back.”

The man without a face slapped Logan so hard he momentarily blacked out.

“I told you not to speak.”

Before Logan could register what was going on, he was seized by the chin. His mouth was forced open by cold fingers. Even colder water began to flood his face, pouring down his throat and into his lungs as he gasped for breath but received only ice-cold water. His lips stung with salt. His eyes burned. The water seemed to be getting colder and colder. He spluttered and fought but to no avail. He was drowning, drowning and drowning.

His feet were no longer on solid ground. The floor gave out beneath him and instead he was sinking. Sinking through the depths.

He was surrounded by the water. The cold smooth flesh of something alive brushed past his body. Water was filling his body and blocking his air. Everything was dark. The weight of an entire ocean was pushing on his pathetically fragile body.

Logan did not know what would kill him first. The weight of the water? The lack of oxygen? The freezing temperatures? The unknown beasts that lurk at the bottom of the sea? The darkness itself?

Sharp teeth toyed with Logan’s limbs, brushing against his skin. Warm water like hot breath caressed his neck. He was being watched even still.

He was still drowning. He was still drowning at it was too dark to see.

It was taking too long to drown. Too long. It was taking too long. It wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t he just die?

He could feel each one of his bones snapping one by one. Cracking, breaking, shattering. It wasn’t accurate. That wasn’t how the deep sea was supposed to kill you. It hurt far more than possible. He should have died instantly. Instead, every inch of his body was filled with agony. Each rib was broken. Each piece of his skull was reduced to powder. He had to be leaking blood like a popped balloon.

And it was so dark. Light had never touched such depths. It was dark and desolate. The horrors around him and his gruesome body would never be visible. Logan would never know what was lurking around him. He would never see what killed him. He was in the dark alone, alone yet perpetually watched. Alone and terrified and in such unimaginable levels of pain.

He was a scared child alone in the pitch-black dark. Unseen beings circled his defenseless body.

Water still flooded his lungs. The lack of air was so painful, he wished he could cry, but how could he contribute his own tears to an entire ocean as it broke his body?

The pain managed to reach even worse levels of pure agony. His body was melting. His brain was turning to liquid.

He tried to scream but nothing came out. Nobody would ever hear him again. He’d die in the cold dark waters, silently.

Logan had always been scared of the bottom of the ocean. Had he mentioned that before? He couldn’t remember. . .

Then Logan finally died.

He sat up, smothered by a hot blanket, surrounded by complete darkness, sobbing uncontrollably.

#logan sanders #sander sides #anais writes #writing #cw blood #cw drowning #cw murder #sasi #ts logan #thomas sanders #there's a hurt/comfort too w virgil #but i'm not including it here becuz who cares about happiness when there is horror #horror #logan sanders angst

34 notes · View notes

masterwords · 11 months

Text

going home time

Summary: Haley is dead. She's dead and that makes everything so hard for Hotch and Jessica. There is no time to grieve when you're busy planning a funeral, and nothing seems to go right. It's one bump in the road after another. They just have to survive this part and if they can do that, maybe there is hope for them. One day at a time. Right?

Words: 8.9k

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan...sort of. It's hinted at (strongly) but that isnt' the focus and Derek is hardly in the fic.

Warnings: GRIEF/MOURNING, canon-character death (haley), funerals, dead body, depression and anger and a lot of swearing. Mind the tags on AO3 and if I missed something important please let me know. This is a lot of angst and a lot of big big feelings and the story is crazy long so it's possible I forgot to tag something big but I hope not.

Notes: Well, not a day too soon, this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Family/Found Family Challenge. I started with the simple prompt for Hotch & Jessica co-parenting Jack but it exploded into whatever the hell this is. An angst-ridden nightmare ride through the worst time of their lives. At least they're in it together, huh?

She doesn’t recognize Haley when she sees the short dark hair. People warned her for this moment, said she wouldn’t look like Haley, that the thing that made her Haley was already gone and she was going to look wrong but as she stood and stared...it wasn’t that. It was something else. It was her hair. That’s not my sister, she says in her mind. That’s not my sister at all. But it is, and she knows it, and it burns in her chest.

He wishes he’d had the chance to hold her as she left. That she didn’t have to go scared and alone, thinking about him and how he wasn’t there. Story of his life.

He was never there when she needed him. Some part of him wonders if she thought he’d make it this time, if he’d finally be there when it counted. If she died with that hope in her chest.

Her hair is dark. That isn’t Haley, he says to himself briefly as he enters the room. She’s lying on the floor and he can smell the death in the room, he knows that smell, but for a split second she’s just a faceless victim lying in an ocean of blood soaked carpet. Her hair is dark. Haley’s hair is the color of sunshine, the color of golden sands on tropical beaches, the color of dragon hoards and autumn straw and not...dark. It separated him from her just long enough to save Jack’s life and he knows it. The instinct to pull away, that isn’t Haley, search for Foyet.

Aaron and Jessica stand beside one another, propping each other up while they inspect the vessel that once housed the soul of a woman they both loved.

Read the rest on AO3!

#aaron hotchner #jessica brooks #jack hotchner #sean hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #found family

14 notes · View notes

fraegiles · 5 months

Text

how long has he been running ? the nights have turned into days and his sense of time is one that cannot correctly measure. bruce building his own rebellion , the knowledge that the capital cannot subject innocents to such brutality. he's almost passed out , reaching a lower district before doing just that. there's the warmth of lighting as eyes open , and he looks up and into her eyes. body tensing , and he isn't quite sure just where he has landed , becoming reckless in his quest for those who would support such a cause. though , he knows his name is known ; the famous passing of his parents has been told to all. another story built by the capital to keep those who they consider 'beneath' them afraid. finding that it is easier to rule in fear than anything else.

' ... it's nothing ' bruce struggling to get up as he feels the wound that has brandished against ribs , and he sucks in through teeth. the pain a reminder that he was very much alive , ' i ... it comes with the price of running ' humor attempted as his fingers dab at shirt that is ruined by blood. the crimson color spreading as he feels a fever setting in , ' cleaning it would help ... ' his words shaky and unsure as he talks through the pain , ' could you give me that much kindness ? ' looking into her eyes as he pleads for mercy. this world had been carved out in cruelty , laid out for all to see. @loneheir

she knows his face, knows his name and his story, she believes she knows most of what there is to know about him from reading. it makes the urgency greater, to place her hands against his skin, to see them tainted crimson, trying for a great breath, to fill her lungs as much as she can and find her footing. she quiets the slight panic that threatened to overcome her, her hands steady as she nods at his words. ❛ i've got something for that in my bag, ❜ it's said with kind reassurance, trying to comfort him, for him to know she is right there, that she will help him and be kind. just as he asked.

bloody hands reach for her bag, the too big bag she drags around, the one filled with all she thinks they could need. however, however she is but books and knowledge, mostly useless, great ideas and speeches, running around trying to help, to find a purpose, someone that could turn her into a useful tool, not some faceless cog in the machine of it all. her fingers reach for some gauze, an antiseptic, ❛ it's going to sting but i can't be helped, try to focus on your breathing, i heard it helps. ❜ she pours the liquid over his wound with a sorry expression, knowing it will hurt. she pushes the gauze then, try to wipe away the blood, try to see clearly exactly how hurt he is. ❛ what caused that ? ❜ it could help, to know how he got injured, to imagine the consequences that could follow, the ramifications of it all.

#loneheir #writings.#hermione : thg verse.#( very happy abt this :) )

5 notes · View notes

dancing-coyote · 1 month

Note

👀 for hunter & jeannie

🍬 for thrust/az/jetstorm

👀 - "look at me." / "let me look at you."

"Jeannie."

Her heart hammered deafeningly in her ears, so loud that she almost couldn't hear Hunter's voice. Her hands shook as she tangled her fingers in her hair and sat half doubled-over, struggling to calm her ragged breathing and racing heartbeat.

She could still feel the icy fingers of the faceless dead dragging her under.

"Jeannie," Hunter's voice was soft, but insistent, as he cupped her cheek in one hand and turned her face towards him; "baby, look at me."

She blinked slowly, forcing her eyes to focus on him.

"It was just a bad dream, it's okay. You're okay." His arms slipped around her, drawing her close; she let out a breathless sob, burying her face against his neck. He just held her tight. "And I'm right here..."

🍬 - something sweet.

"So, where are we going?"

"If I told you it'd ruin the surprise."

"And you'd better not go peeking, either, kitten."

Azrael scoffed softly, but still smiled as she rested against Thrust's chassis, obligingly keeping her optics closed. The rumble of his engine vibrated through her and, somewhere overhead, she could hear the high, thin whine of Jetstorm's afterburners. For what felt like a long time, those two sounds encompassed her whole world.

Eventually, though, Thrust's forward momentum slowed and she felt him turn down a gentle incline; lifting her head slightly, she tested the air, but nothing smelled different...

And finally, he rolled to a halt, his engine idling down to a purr. "This' where you get off, li'l lady."

"Technically, that comes later," Jetstorm quipped, transforming nearby; "though I guess if you really wanted to..."

"You are insufferable," she laughed as she hopped down, allowing Thrust to transform beside her. "Can I open my optics now?"

"Not just yet."

With a dramatic sigh, Azrael stretched and transformed, as well, reaching out to rest a hand on Thrust's arm; it took her a moment to realize that she couldn't hear Jetstorm's antigravs. "Do I want to know where flyboy went?"

"He's just gettin' somethin' real quick."

"I'm afraid to ask..."

Thrust just laughed softly, the sound like smoke curling up from a bed of embers, and she smiled.

Then came the distant sound of power conduits coming online, the hum of electricity and the buzz of neon, followed by the clicking of sprinklers and the soft pattering of water on pavement. Even from behind her optic shields, she could see the darkness transform.

"All right, kitten," Jetstorm called down from somewhere overhead, "take a look and let us know what you think!"

"..." Azrael opened her optics to a neon forest of towering titanium trees with colorful branches, festooned with luminous vines and brilliant color-shifting lights shaped like electric flowers. A sprinkler system sent down a light drizzle of water droplets and, somewhere, hidden speakers played the sounds of wildlife and birdsong, timpani and marimbas. "...Oh. The Electric Garden - but... is this what you've been up to for the past week?"

"It wasn't a big deal t' get it up n' running again," Thrust half-shrugged, "mostly just involved clearin' off the solar panels."

"Roller boy here did most of the heavy lifting, I just made sure all the pretty lights were in working order," Jetstorm added as he descended, "and anyway, it's not like we had anything better to do, so why not, right?"

Stepping away from Thrust, Azrael lifted her hands to her face, blinking back tears that stung the corners of her optics. It wasn't quite the same without the crowds or the real plants, but...

"Soooooo... do you like it?" Jetstorm leaned over her shoulder, as Thrust peered around the taller Vehicon; she hid her smile behind her hands for just a moment, before a laugh bubbled up from her chest.

"Of course I like it - I love it, even! It's beautiful," she tugged Jetstorm down a bit to press a kiss to his jaw, then stepped around him to do the same for Thrust. "You didn't have to do all this for me..."

"Well, you said you liked the place, so..."

"Consider it a going-away present before your big trip to Protihex. You know, something big and shiny to look forward to coming back to."

"I already have something big and shiny to look forward to coming back to, you dork."

3 notes · View notes

ryverbind · 1 year

Text

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Prologue

"Move, move, move!"

I left the awful, deteriorating city of Nockfell when I was ten years old. It was worth it-- I've always said that. I had nothing in that town; the population went down each day and hell, it was starting to look like I'd die there too.

I had to leave all of my friends behind, but at least we kept in touch. I only had three friends, anyway. Being able to keep those three around meant more to me than the fear of moving to a bigger city. Nothing was scary as long as I had my few friends.

"I'm trying! This guy in front of me is being stupid!"

Moving didn't mean much at the time, but it did leave me very lonely. Both of my parents were and still are workaholics, so I grew up pretty alone. Well, I did until mom and dad got divorced.

I think mom was the driving force behind dad's need to work so much. She was a drama queen.

Dad and I live in the heart of Los Angeles now. We moved here from San Diego just last year. He has his normal job that makes enough-- otherwise we wouldn't be in such a big city-- but making enough isn't always... enough over here.

"Go around him maybe!?"

But I've learned to work around that. Dad has, too. I have a mediocre job at a diner to pay for expenses and to help with some at-home things.

After all, life in one of America's most famous-- and most expensive-- city's won't pay for itself.

"Shut up, Ash! Fuck, why won't this person just move!?"

Though, I wish there was something I could do to make more money. Something to give me more freedom instead of being cramped in dad and I's little apartment. Something easier than breaking my back for pissy customers that won't even tip.

Honestly, I want something easier for me and dad.

And still, I find myself sitting in front of the TV in my living room-- mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hand as I watch my childhood friend fuck shit up on her most recent Youtube video.

The best part about this small, suffocating apartment is that it's on one of the highest floors. Sure, I have quite the elevator ride to take when I come home and sometimes I'm late to work because I miscalculate the time it'll take me to get down to the bottom floor-- but it's so worth it.

Our balcony doors are cracked open, the curtains pulled away to show the busy streets of Los Angeles below. The city is a beauty, that's for sure. The sun and headlights are always reflecting off of the tall, glass buildings which make for quite the light show-- and I have free tickets.

Early morning light filters into my dim living room. A stray golden ray forms a rift in the drab darkness of the rest of the room, illuminating a stripe across the back of the couch, across my legs, and then all the way to the other end of the room. I take note of dust that seems to float on the small stream of light as I redirect my focus from the Youtube video that's currently playing.

This apartment can only get so dark. When I say dim, it's still pretty bright. Our apartment is like any modern apartment-- it's new and filled with neutral colors, making it seem bright and inviting. Our walls are an eggshell white color. Our furniture is a mix of beige and black fabric, never leather because dad hates the feeling of it. And any wooden furniture is black, as well as our carpet.

It's simple, modern, sleek. It's everything a Los Angeles resident could want.

Right?

"Dammit, Sally! You cost us that entire game!"

My best friend's shrill scream pulls my attention back to the television. I see her face in the bottom left corner, her brows furrowed and mouth wide open in a mixture of shock and anger. Her cheeks turn a rosy shade as she begins scolding the guy in the mask at the top right of the screen.

They're playing Call of Duty.

"All you had to do was move around the glitched dumbass, are you kidding me?" Ash bellows. "How long have you been playing this game? I thought you were the pro. Give me my fucking crown."

Sally Face, the guy in the mask, or as he calls it, a prosthetic, snorts into the microphone. His head bobs with laughter, showing that he finds Ash's anger quite amusing. "Ash, if I could have moved around the guy, I would have. I was glitched, too." He pushes a veiny hand through his pretty hair. "I will never revoke my crown."

Sally Face is confusing in my brain. He has unnatural, bright cerulean hair. It's fluffy and full of layers, creating a pretty interesting texture to accompany the fringe that always hangs over his prosthetic.

His style is a contrast to his blue hair— dark, mainly all black clothing. He's always wearing either a plethora of different necklaces or just one that no one has ever seen before. He has chipped, black nail polish— no matter how many times he streams, it's always the same. I've never seen a fresh coat on his nails.

My favorite, and undoubtedly the most distracting, part about him happens to be the rings and bracelets he wears. He has plenty, much like his necklaces. Most times, Sally Face is wearing the same wrap-around snake ring with a black finish and a silver one with unique carvings and a garnet gem. He has a ton of cute fan-made bracelets that say different things, like "Cogito Ergo Sum" and "SF."

And he has this accent, a very attractive one. It's not too strong and I can't put my finger on what kind of accent it is, but I find myself holding onto his every word. There's just something about the way he articulates certain sounds.

Not like I'd admit it, but sometimes I rewind a YouTube video just to hear the way he says "water" or "coffee" again.

Is that down bad-ish of me?

Larry catches my attention, effectively dragging me back to earth from my simping thoughts. His face is in the top left corner of the screen; he pinches his lips together and shakes his head. "Will you two stop bickering? It's just a game," he says, shifting in his chair to get into a more comfortable position.

"Who stole Larry? Because you are not him," Todd's voice cuts in just as Larry finishes speaking. His face is in the bottom right corner. "You're supposed to be the shit-starter, not the shit-stopper," Todd continues, chuckling.

Larry snorts. "Maybe I'm just feeling different today. Ever thought of that, Todd? Huh?"

"You guys are insufferable," Ash scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She leans back in her chair, showing off her headset. It's super cute with little cat ears that change colors. "I'm taking away friend rights. I'm all for y/n now."

I perk up at the mention of my name. She never talks about me online-- not that I blame her. We agreed to pretty much keep our friendship private.

"Awe, come on, Ash," Larry whines, pouting at the camera. "We have to share y/n, and besides, we love you. You have to take care of us, mom," he jokes.

"Y/n is mine, thank you very much," Ash chirps, smiling wickedly. "And, for your information, I am not your mother so I can very easily dip out of your life."

"Fuck, it's like my dad all over again," Larry says. Everyone is silent, suddenly afraid to say a word as Larry's dad is a sore subject. But Larry starts giggling at his own joke.

"Stop making fun of such a serious situation, Larry," Todd says, holding back little giggles. "I'll go to hell if I laugh. Don't do this to me."

"Ash practically set up the entire joke, Larry just took advantage of the opportunity," Sally Face says, a pretty chuckle leaving his mouth. "But anyway, who's y/n?"

"Oh, shit." Ash slaps a hand over her mouth. "I completely forgot that I mentioned her. I was hoping I'd keep her a secret forever."

I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing as I watch the screen. All four of their characters are idle in the game lobby as they chat with each other.

Shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, I start to wonder if Ash, Larry, and Todd just... never bothered to mention me to Sally.

As far as I know, Sally Face moved to Nockfell long after I left. He became friends with my friends but I never met him. I never spoke to him. I had heard of him, but I just never bothered to reach out and get to know him.

Just two years ago, at the ripe ages of 21 and 22, the four of them decided to try streaming as a way to make money since there were only so may job opportunities in Nockfell. And wouldn't you know, the group went viral almost immediately.

Larry and Todd are the clowns, Ash is the pretty one with a temper, and Sally Face is the mysterious asshole. Viewers want a face reveal from him so bad and that's exactly why he became the most popular streamer out of the four.

Larry and Todd have about two million subscribers and followers, Ash is nearing 2.5 million, and Sally is at a whopping 3.5 million. They're pretty big.

So, my favorite pass-time is getting to watch all of them play. But today's video is extra spicy.

"We were so busy gatekeeping y/n that we couldn't even tell Sally?" Todd asks, a bit confused. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it-- I really don't think we ever mentioned her."

Larry hums, looking off to the side as he thinks. He chews on his bottom lip, tapping his finger against the armrest of his chair. "I've thought it out," he mumbles after a few moments. "I have no recollection of ever mentioning y/n."

Ash laughs shortly, shaking her head with a soft smile. "Damn. I guess we did a good job at keeping her a secret then."

Sally groans, leaning closer so we can clearly see his left eye in the screen. It's the most striking blue color I think I've ever seen. "Who the fuck is y/n?" He whispers, the microphone right against his prosthetic as he says it. This makes the whisper sound like a scream and, as a result, the other three jump in surprise.

"You don't get to know y/n, she's ours," Larry jokes, sticking his tongue out to tease Sally.

"Okay, fine." Sally backs up, his pretty hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair. He's wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and a chain around his neck. His nails are painted black and multiple rings adorn his fingers— as per usual. "But is she hot?"

I choke on my bite of ice cream, spluttering pale green all over my dad's black carpet. The thought of staining his beloved carpet doesn't even cross my mind as I stare at the screen with wide eyes, watching as Sally Face waits patiently for his friends to recover from their surprised laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sally asks calmly, electric eyes flitting back and forth across the screen.

Larry takes a deep breath, one last laugh leaving him as he places a hand on his heart. "Bro, I can't even lie. I had the biggest crush on her whenever I knew her. She left a couple years before you came along." Larry winces, like he's just remembering that his millions of viewers will be seeing this video-- including me. "Sorry if you're watching this, y/n. I promise I'm over it but anyone can see that you're adorable." He shrugs, winking at the camera.

I let out an obnoxious laugh, a smile forming on my lips as I continue watching. Larry has always been hilarious, though I never knew he had a crush on me.

Todd closes his left eye, a little quirk of his. He always does this when he's thinking. "Well," he sighs, tapping his index finger against his arm. "She's beautiful, I'll say that. But I'm gay, so like, I'm not Larry. I've never wanted to fuck her. Unlike someone, apparently."

Larry shoots forward, a serious expression on his face as he starts yelling out to defend himself. "Fuck off, Todd! I never said I wanted to fuck her, I just said I had a crush on her! She's hot!"

This has gotten a bit crazy. When I sat down to watch this video after Ash begged me to put it on earlier, I expected to giggle a bit and relax on my one off-day of the week. I didn't expect to be hearing about famous streamers, who are also my friends, wanting to dick me down.

I feel like I've just worked a double shift.

I place my melting carton of ice cream on the wooden floor at the foot of the couch, my eyes never straying from the TV screen as I watch Larry and Todd bicker.

Ash and Sally watch, seemingly just as horrified as I am.

After a couple seconds, Larry runs a hand down his face, sighing as he listens to Todd get a good laugh out of the situation.

"Okay," Sally awkwardly drags out the word. "So we have one vote for hot, one vote for beautiful. What's your opinion of the mysterious y/n, Ash?"

Ash hums, smiling brightly. "I vote both. Y/n is the hottest and most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Sally Face nods his head and I smile. Ash has always been so kind to me, though I think she, Larry, and Todd are hyping my looks up a bit too much. I'm not the hottest or the most beautiful.

"So the important question now, Ash, is would you fuck y/n?" Sally asks. What a dick.

I scoff at the screen, scrunching my face up. He knows that we're all close, clearly. Todd and Larry joking with each other about his crush is all in good fun, but the tone in Sally's voice shows that he's trying to start shit.

Ash narrows her eyes, "Yes, actually, I would."

I pause the video, my smile so wide that it genuinely hurts. I debate calling Ash for a moment just to give her a little smooch through the phone and tell her how much I love her. But I can always call her later. There's only two minutes left of the video anyway.

Larry chortles, Todd following with a very similar sign of amusement.

Sally nods, humming again. "Okay. Two points for hot, two points for beautiful. Those ratings are pretty good."

He pauses, lifting a hand and suddenly waving them off dismissively. "But you guys have terrible taste, so I doubt she lives up to the hype you guys gave her."

What the fuck did he just say?

I shoot up into a sitting position, scooting toward the edge of the couch with my jaw dragging along the fabric. Did I hear that correctly?

Sally looks into the camera. I feel like he's staring me directly in the eye, a sarcastic and cocky look in his gaze as he says, "Sorry, Y/n Whoever-You-Are."

Come again?

—————————

A/N:::::

I don't have much planned for this book just yet, but most of you know what I'm about. Expect angst, expect comedy, and most of all, EXPECT SPICE!

THIS IS JUST A PROLOGUE TO GIVE EVERYONE A TASTE AND I WILL NOT BE UPDATING AGAIN UNTIL I AM FINISHED WITH MY OTHER BOOK!

Sorry for the caps, just wanna make it loud and out there :P

As always, I love you all so much and I'm so excited to start this new, lovely journey with you guys :3

~Ryver <3

24 notes · View notes