#nothing but bad memories in that place and all

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

#jenny nicholson #star wars #galactic starcruiser #disney #screen rant #star wars hotel #disney world #you can't defend with adcopy #you just sound super fake

[yandere-writer-momo]

Shoutout to Monster Anon for another amazing idea

Yandere Short Stories:

Right Where I Want You

Yandere Private Investigator x Fem Reader

TW: Yandere themes, delusional behavior, unhealthy behavior, racism (ex mil makes a comment), savior complex, murder, stalking, etc.

Inhale. Exhale. Nicalli blew cigarette smoke from his lips while his body sunk into his plush couch in his pent house. Another failure of a day in an attempt to find dirt on his target.

The stench from his lit cigarette did little to soothe the loneliness in Necalli’s heart. No, this small vice merely burned the back of his throat and made his clothes reek of bad decisions. This small action did little to satiate the growing lust that consumed his very being.

Nicalli ran an umber hand through his long, black hair. A few strands stuck to his sweaty palms while his heart raced in his chest.

Nicalli had been plagued with alien feelings ever since he’s taken on this new case. The case that involved the Goldberg family and their son’s fiancée, (your full name).

He has been a private investigator for over a decade and he’s never had someone be so innocent. How could (your name) not have a single speck of dirt on her?! Good people didn’t exist in this world! There was no way someone so pure could be involved with the Goldberg family…

Nicalli sighed in frustration and put his cigarette out on the jaguar shaped ashtray on his coffee table. His russet eyes scanned the various documents before him in frustration.

All he had were pictures of her helping at the local soup kitchen and her indulging in her small hobbies. She was so mundane… he didn’t have anything to give his employer to ‘protect her precious son.’

Nicalli had been on this case for eight months now and he still had nothing but pictures of this absurdly beautiful woman. Henry Goldberg was lucky to have such a faithful woman… Nicalli would die for one.

Nicalli didn’t believe in love after the betrayal of his lover when he was in the military. It was that betrayal that made him become a private investigator in the first place so no one else had to find out like he did… yet this life was lonely. Nicalli was so lonely and now he was enchanted by his target. How pathetic was that?

Nicalli continued to admire to various pictures he had of (your name). She was really beautiful… how could someone smile so joyously? There was nothing in this world to be happy about… or was there?

.

.

.

Nicalli recalled the memory of when he first received this job. He sat in the Goldberg mansion’s study. His large body squished into a small leather chair while the mother and son gave him fake smiles.

“We need you to investigate (your full name).” Mrs. Goldberg pushed a file towards Nicalli, the Mexican man accepted the file with a solemn look. “I feel like she’s cheating on my son… or even involved in some sort of illegal activity.”

Nicalli was shocked to open the file to see the smiling face of a beautiful young woman. This woman was involved in some sort of illegal activity? She looked like she couldn’t harm a fly!

“I will be able to sleep better at night knowing my son is in good hands.” Mrs. Goldberg she d a few crocodile tears before Henry Goldberg handed Nicalli a check that would make anyone gasp at the amount.

“I heard you’re the best in the business so please, don’t disappoint us.”

Nicalli took the money and nodded his head. He could do this… this job would be like all the others…

.

.

.

Nicalli felt his breath hitch the first day he saw (your name). He’s never seen someone so pretty before… she had to be some sort of forest fairy rather than a human.

Nicalli studied her from his car, his russet eyes studied her in great interest. He has followed her around for weeks now and there was still not a speck of dirt on her…

Nicalli was in disbelief. (Your name) seemed to be a good person… but he was determined to find something on her. Anything would do.

So he continued to stalk her which brought him to present day…

.

.

.

“Have a good day!” (Your name) smiled at the various homeless people that inhabited the soup kitchen. She served each one with a cheery smile, even if they seemed displeased with her.

Nicalli sat in the corner at a bench. His russet eyes studied her in distaste. Didn’t she tire of this? These people didn’t appreciate her company… no one seemed to despite her constant efforts. Nicalli didn’t understand the point of her unnecessary kindness.

(Your name) was so sweet, she could make teeth rot. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this, it was dangerous-

Nicalli jumped when (your name) stood before him, a bowl of soup in her hands.

“Hello?” (Your name) tilted off her head to the side as she studied Nicalli in interest. “I always spot you here, but you never come up to the stand so I thought I’d come to you.”

Shit. He had grown careless since she’s so docile… now she knew his face. Should he just call the mission a done deal?

Nicalli was shocked when she gently placed the bowl in front of him with a soft smile. “Here. Enjoy some soup, okay? You always look so sad…”

Nicalli bit his tongue. No matter how badly he wanted to refuse her, he couldn’t bring himself to. If he rejected her kindness, it would be as if he kicked a puppy. And people do not kick puppies.

Nicalli was surprised that the soup was delicious but then he saw her smile even wider.

“I made the soup, so please enjoy to your heart’s content. If you need anything, I’m (your name)! I’ll see you around, mister!” She then went back to the kitchen while Nicalli sat dumbfounded.

The Hispanic man sat there for a few minutes longer before he felt a blush envelope his cheeks. His heart wildly leapt in his chest and his palms began to sweat buckets. What just happened to him?

There was no way… no way he had a crush on (your name)? Yet he couldn’t help the way his eyes shyly glanced towards her bubbly form while she served the rest of the costumers.

She was a good person… (your name) was a genuinely good person. Nicalli was sure of it. And now he needed to report his findings to the Goldbergs.

.

.

.

It took everything in Nicalli not to choke slam Henry Goldberg into the velvet carpet in his study. This man was a bastard… he didn’t deserve (your name).

“God, I thought you were the best of the best!” Henry sighed while his parents chuckled.

“Now son, I’m sure he’ll find something on that commoner.” Mrs. Goldberg pointed out to her son who scoffed.

“Mommy, at the rate he’s going. He’ll need to make something up!” Henry hummed, the man reached for his check book. “How much money do you need to fabricate a lie on her? I truly cannot marry a commoner, but it looks good for the citizens-“

Nicalli furrowed his brow. What on earth were they on about? “Aren’t you happy she’s a good person?”

Henry and his mother paused before the two of them erupted into laughter. “Happy she’s a good person? No one told us you were a comedian!!”

“How about you plant one of my necklaces or jewels in her home so we have the grounds to annul this engagement? I really cannot have my son end up with a woman so poor like that.” Mrs. Goldberg took off her diamond necklace and tried to hand it to Nicalli but the private investigator pushed it back toward her. “Oh come on. People like you are familiar with stealing, right?”

Nicalli’s head spun in horror and confusion. They were going to frame her to make themselves look better for the people… they were going to frame an innocent woman for a crime. The Goldbergs were horrible people… horrible villains.

“Mother, not all Mexicans are thieves.” Henry rolled his eyes before he gave Nicalli a knowing smile. “But I do need you to pin a crime of some sort on her. I can’t have her have the Goldberg family name.”

Even though Nicalli wanted to scream at the two of them, he must feel himself in. He needed to have evidence to show (your name) to save her. Nicalli wanted to save her… she didn’t deserve to have her name tarnished over corrupt people like these ones.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Nicalli gave the Goldbergs a stiff smile. Yes… he’d contact his sources to dig dirt up on the Goldbergs.

Nicalli didn’t become a private investigator to harm innocent people. Nicalli did this to protect the innocent from heart break.

.

.

.

Nicalli threw his coffe table across the room after his source had called him and faxed him over pictures of Henry Goldberg with escorts. Bastard… that fucking bastard!

Henry had this perfect woman and he cheated on her with escorts?! He was involved in drug and sex slave trafficking?! This was a rabbit hole Nicalli never thought he’d find himself in… and he had to get (your name) out.

A man like that didn’t deserve her… not like he did. Nicalli would treasure a woman like her. He’s pamper her and make sure she was properly pleasured- what the hell was that?!

Nicalli shook his head to clear his thoughts. How dare he think of her in such a way… Nicalli wasn’t worthy of her.

Nicalli’s cheeks flushed in anger. Henry had to suffer. He had to pay for his crimes. The Goldbergs had to pay for their crimes.

Nicalli snatched one of the pictures up before he was able to locate Henry’s location. It would be easy to track him down… Nicalli was all too familiar with the Red Light District.

All he needed to do was figure out which vehicle was his, but that couldn’t be too hard. Henry was a classic spoiled narcissist. His car would be colorful and loud, just like him.

.

.

.

The death of Henry Goldberg was on every news channel and in every article. His shiny red sports car was totaled and the bodies of two escorts were found with him. The cause of death was drunk driving and brake failure.

There was not a doubt in Nicalli’s mind that (your name) would be distraught… but he had to take care of Mrs. Goldberg first.

Nicalli adjusted his black leather gloves on his hands as he slowly approached the Goldberg’s office to discuss further business. The pistol with a silencer attached was buried deep within his coat.

This was all for (your name)‘s future… for their future together. It only made sense to him that he got the girl after saving her! Nicalli could make her happy!

Nicalli would have (your name) right where he wanted her…

.

.

.

(Your name) sniffled in her bed, her body trembled in sorrow. She couldn’t believe Henry died and his mother had committed suicide… she knew Mrs. Goldberg adored her son, but she had no idea it was to such an extent…

Yet she wasn’t surprised about Henry being a deviant. It was why she avoided being physical with him. There was a small voice in the back of her head that told her he was bad news… yet was it wrong for her to want the money to live a good life? She’d never have to worry about bills again if she married him… but then he sent the private investigator her way.

God, it irritated her… but she wasn’t a horrible person. She just wanted a better life was all… was that a crime?

And she always felt unsettled under that man’s gaze. He had such sharp features and such a piercing stare. There was no way people didn’t know he was there when his presence felt like a predator’s.

The man had such a bewitching appearance. Hell, his hair was prettier than hers and his hooked nose was gorgeous… that private investigator was more attractive than her dead white fiancé.

So when she had a package full of photos of Henry with escorts, she knew it was her ‘stalker.’ It was nice to know he had a good moral compass, but these photos were too late. They weren’t anything she wasn’t aware of.

Despite her bubbly attitude, (your name) was not naive. She knew the Goldbergs weren’t good people. No old money family were.

(Your name) sighed as she rose up from her bed and wiped her eyes. There went her plan to be with a man with a trust fund…

(Your name) was surprised to see a bouquet of red roses and carnations on her doorstep. It seemed that private investigator may have a crush.

(Your name) smiled in thought. He was a private investigator for rich people, right? Then maybe he had the money to ensure she had a good life?

She turned her head and spotted the shy man on his car. That classic 1964 Chevrolet impala always stuck out like a sore thumb.

(Your name) wiped her eyes a bit before she gave him a smile. She could spot his red cheeks from her place by her door. It seemed she wouldn’t have to work too hard for this one… because she had him right where she wanted him.

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #Yandere short story #yandere private investigator #yandere detective #yandere obsession #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere male #stalker yandere #yandere stories #yandere stalking #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x willing reader #yandere boy #yandere concept #yandere imagines #yandere original character #original work #fem reader #yandere idea #yandere insert #older yandere #smart reader #female manipulator

[milkloafy]

YOUR SAVING GRACE — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you run into some trouble and wriothesley saves you, getting himself hurt in the process. [modern au; suggestive content] ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by the wriothesley art where his face is a little bloodied and he’s smiling like that and hmmngfh i want to hold him so bad !! also the title is kind of a pun do u get it ha ha okay pls enjoy :>

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

Wriothesley chucked, wincing as the corner of his mouth lifted upwards. “Fancy way of saying thank you.”

With a sigh, you dampened a washcloth with warm water from under the sink. You wrung out the excess before gently guiding it up to Wriothesley’s face and dabbing at the cut on his lip. You frowned. His split lower lip wasn’t even the worst of it—he had a bleeding gash on the right side of his temple.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, fingers brushing against the high points of his cheekbone. Such a beautiful face did not deserve to be marred in such a way; he had already been through enough growing up.

“Of course I had to,” he said, your face so close to his that you felt his hot breath fan your nose. “The alternative would have been to let them harm you.”

You discarded the dirty cloth and grabbed a fresh one from the drawer. As you wiped the blood off his forehead, your mind wandered to the memory of the past few hours. It wasn’t exactly a good one, to put it lightly. 

You had only recently moved back to your hometown in Fontaine after spending time abroad in Inazuma, but you quickly found that all the friends you once knew now had lives of their own. Except your childhood friend Wriothesley, of course. Still, you didn’t let that stop you from going out on your own and trying to meet new people, especially now that you were back in Fontaine to stay.

Perhaps, however, heading face first into the night scene wasn’t the way to go. 

You shivered at the memory. The moment you realized you didn’t feel safe being out dancing alone, you tried to make your way home, only to find out you were being followed by some men from the venue. Your only saving grace was that of Wriothesley, who happened to be on a late night tea run. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you said sincerely, though you knew that wasn’t enough to display your gratitude. Who knows what could have happened had he not intervened. “I just hate that you got hurt because of it.” 

Wriothesley laughed, patting your head affectionately—as if the two of you never drifted apart when you moved away. “I would do it again, even if the outcome was worse. Besides, did you see what I did to the other guys?” 

That earned a smile out of you. “There were three of them! And you still kicked all their asses.” 

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “Now, if you look at my injuries in comparison, it’s really nothing.” 

Though the mood was slightly lifted, you still hated to see Wriothesley in any pain. The least you could do was make sure his wound were thoroughly cleaned and wrapped. 

“You don’t have to go through this trouble,” said Wriothesley as you disinfected the cut on his temple and placed a bandage over it. “You must be tired from your long night. You should get some rest. I can always have Sigewinne help.”

You shook your head fervently, almost offended by his suggestion. “You’re in this mess  because of me and you think I could just leave you to get it taken care of elsewhere?” you huffed, squishing his non-injured cheek with your fingertips. “What kind of friend would I be then?”

“I’m not in this mess because of you—it’s because of those lowlives who take pleasure in trying to harass an innocent person,” he corrected sternly. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry you had to go through that yourself.”

Once you finished cleaning and patching him up, you became overwhelmingly aware of the fact that you were standing in between his legs as he sat on the bathroom counter. You were leaning against one of his thighs as support to steady your hand while you wiped his wounds, but now that you were finished, you straightened back up, swallowing harshly at your now dry throat. 

How focused must you have been to not notice the feeling of sculpted muscles through his pants? You were glad to know you had some priorities, at least. 

Feeling warm, you tried to step away. “Well, thank you again for…you know, beating those guys up for me! But if you’re okay now I guess that means it’s time for me to go.” 

“Leaving so soon?” Wriothesley half-heartedly locked his leg behind your back with a grin, preventing you from taking another step back. “Have you checked under my shirt yet? Perhaps I have some injuries there.”

“Wriothesley!” you yelped, feeling your face grow warm despite knowing he was only joking. “You said so yourself— You have Sigewinne for that!” 

He let out a chuckle, as he released you from his gentle hold. “So my dear friend will help with the wounds on my face, but nothing lower?” 

Your mouth dropped, incredulous, yet you felt yourself taking the bait. After all, if your handsome friend with a hot body were to dangle the offer of seeing them shirtless right front of your face, who were you to deny it?

“Fine, let me check for you,” you said hastily. 

Moving his tie aside, you grabbed at the buttons lining the front of his shirt. The black longsleeve was tight-fitted, and the moment you felt his abdomen, you knew there were muscles underneath his clothes. As your fingers began maneuvering around the round, little button, you felt Wriothesley begin to stir. 

“Y/N,” his voice was gruff, “I was only teasing.”

Your brows shot up in surprise at his tone. He sounded strained and his eyes darkened with every button you undid. Your pinky finger accidentally brushed against his exposed pectoral muscles as you slowly parted the top-half of his shirt. At the touch of his warm body, you jolted in shock. 

Clearing your throat, you attempted to appear unfazed. “Well, sometimes your actions have consequences.” 

“I must say, this is quite a positive consequence.” 

“You’re one of the lucky ones this time.”

Wriothesley laughed, shaking his head. All of a sudden, he grasped your hand that was trailing down his shirt, stopping you from moving. You held your breath.

“Careful not to go any lower,” he warned, the slightest hint of a growl in his voice. 

“And if I do?”

“If you want our friendship to stay as is, then I suggest you don’t.” He stared into your eyes, his gray ones appearing almost black. “Before this leads to something you might regret.”

“I wouldn’t regret if this lead to anything,” you admitted, voice quiet. Gone was the playful teasing, traded for something much more sincere. “Would you?”

“Of course not.”

You raised a brow and broke your hand free from his gentle grasp, placing your palm against the heat of his bare skin. Your fingertips danced against the curve of his chest as you pushed the shirt back, just to check if he had any injuries there, of course. 

Wriothesley shook his head and groaned, running a hand through his hair as he shut his eyes. “You’re making this difficult, darling.” 

You giggled, letting your hand fall to your side and giving him a cheeky smile. “Fine, I’ll stop for now. You don’t have any injuries there anyway. I checked for you.” 

He had a conflicted look on his face—as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be relieved or disappointed. 

You grinned at his reaction. “Perhaps you want me to look again?”

Wriothesley choked out a noise of both surprise and amusement before collecting himself. “I believe your initial examination was thorough enough, but after you have a good night’s rest, then we can revisit this topic.” 

Though you were disappointed the two of you didn’t take it further yourself, you knew he was probably right. You did feel rather tired after the draining night you had. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” you conceded, offering him a hand as he got off the countertop. Even standing, he was significantly taller than you. You pursed your lips, if only you weren’t so exhausted, then maybe… You shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts. “Then, once I’m fully rested, I can properly thank you for your help today.”

Wriothesley smiled, understanding the not-so subtle implications of your words and welcoming it with open arms. 

“Great,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I look forward to it.”

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x you #genshin fluff #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley genshin

[littlemissferret]

CHRONICLES OF HOUSECATS [ part 1 , part 2 ]

sypnosis: you finally manage an uninterrupted date with isagi

no prns used (reader). established relationship with (loser bf) isagi. 2.2k wc. cw: nothing(?). made them a lot tamer for this (less chaos). kaiser & ness still cats ofc.

Do you remember the feeling of awkward cringe, when you watch third-rate actors on screen put on an act so atrociously bad? The kind of feeling that forces your skin to crawl- a chill sent down your spine while simultaneously warm blood rushes to your face from second hand embarrassment?

“MEOWWWW MRREOWWWWWWWWW”

Yeah, you’re feeling a whole hell of that right now. God, he’s so embarrassing…

You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing in much needed fresh air to cool down the horrendous headache your darling housecats are causing you right now.

“Enough, Mihya. I told you to save your little theatrics for the talent shows.” You lift up the blue cat carrier to chastise him.

Michael bats his eyes, staring up at you with the eyes of a pitiful, heartbroken widow.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that,” You deadpan at his attempt to win you over. “C’mon, it’s just a spa. You love getting pampered, don’t you? Well, they’re gonna give you lotsss of love and attention there.”

He furthers his meowing and whining at you, pretending he didn’t hear allat. Determined to not drop his act anytime soon.

Isagi walks next to you, this sweet boy has been trying to hold your hands when you were busy arguing with your rebellious cat.

He finally manages to grab onto your hand, a smile blossoming onto his face as he internally celebrates his success.

“Um, will it really be okay for us to just leave them at the spa?” He eyes the magenta cat carrier in his other hand. “I mean, we can do this another time.. It’s not that much of a hassle, really.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, and start swinging your held hands. “It’s fine. Really!” You turn to him with a smile, “I bring them to the spa every two to three months anyway. Mihya usually loves it! He’s just being whiny for attention right now.”

Ignoring the blond cat’s yowls of protests, you continue, “Besides, I’m looking forward to this date with you-” You glance down at the blue carrier, “-without them interrupting this time.”

On your previous romantic dates with Isagi, the two cats had stalked and caught up with you both. Causing a scene every single time, thanks to Michael’s dramatics and Alexis’ surprising animosity towards your sweet boyfriend.

You swear Alexis is usually a good, well-mannered kitty. He never had any problems with strangers. Maybe he just doesn’t like Yoichi’s smell? You oughta talk to him about showing up right after practice in his stinky sweat drenched jersey.

You hum, stepping into the doors of ‘Magic Whiskers Pet Spa & Hotel’. The bell chimes, alerting the workers and other pets in the building of your arrival.

It doesn’t take long until the old manager walks up to greet you. “Hello there, dearie! Michael and Alexis back for their appointment?”

“Hi, gramps. And yeah, the usual, thank you.” Placing the cat carriers onto the counter, you open the locks for them.

Michael huffs, strutting out and stretching his legs, then immediately basks in the old man’s praises at his big boy stretch.

Little bastard giving you the silent treatment.

Alexis walks up to you the moment he’s let out of the cage. Purring as he rubs his head at your waist. Finally, he thinks. Normally he’s comfortable with his carrier but god when Isagi is the one handling him does it make the experience a hundred times less enjoyable.

Oh well, at least he’s in his second favourite place now. Being in the magic themed store slash spa makes him the happiest feline alive.

Great memories were created here in this magical place, after all.

“Good boy, ‘Lexis. You watch over Michael for me, yeah? He’s being a petty prick.” You whisper to the cat. “I’ll stock up on your favourite kibbles when I come back later.”

You scratch at the spot behind his little flicky ears, sinking in his purrs as you stare at Michael’s overgrown blond fur.

“Hmm. You know what, old man? I think you can try something new with them this time.”

The cats stare up at you curiously and the manager only gives you a warm smile.

“I thought you’d never ask. Leave them to me!”

—

“Ahh, some peace and quiet..” You sigh in bliss as you hook your arm with Isagi. You’re both now walking leisurely on the sidewalk. “Soo, what’s the plan, Yoichi?”

Isagi blushes when you turn to look at him, “Ah, right.” He fumbles with his jacket, “Well, I didn’t plan an itinerary or anything. But..”

He lists off the places you both can visit together, rambling off. Occasionally stuttering and tripping over his own feet.

You admire his side profile as he continues his meandering. He’s such a cutie, still so awkward and shy this far into the relationship.

You wonder if you’d get to more sides of him as you both continue to spend more time together.

“-so i think it’s really worth a visit too. You wanna go?”

His dorky smile paired with a soft blush on the apple of his cheeks. How could anyone say no to that?

You’d go anywhere this man brings you to.

“Sure. Anything for you, pretty boy.”

—

The faint smell of clay envelopes the both of you as you step foot into the pottery studio.

“Hello, we booked a session under the name Isagi Yoichi.” You glance around the cozy studio, admiring the array of works displayed. The muted colours of each piece of art blend well in the modernly designed room, adding a spark of personality to the mundane aesthetic.

“Yes, of course. Over here, please.” The receptionist brings you two to your designated workshop.

You place a thumb to your chin as you stare at the unpainted pottery in front of you. You never really had any plans to paint on some clay. Now that you think about it, you jumped at any idea Isagi had suggested- and pottery painting just happened to sound the most romantic to your dear Yoichi right now.

Oh, well. Now that you’re here with him, might as well show-off whatever amount of talent you have for painting.

Yoichi’s hand finds yours, before he quickly releases it to wipe off the sweat that has collected onto his palm.

“Sorry! I- It’s too hot in here, aha..”

Help this poor guy. So many dates into the relationship and he can hardly tell if you’re as excited as he is. Is your heart beating as quick as his right now? Do you feel the immense urge to hold him the same way he wants to hold you?

You choose to reach out for him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Are you nervous about pottery painting? I’m sure you’ll do great, ‘Ichi.”

Ah, that’s not.. Yoichi sweatdrops. You have trouble reading him too, it seems. At least now he feels better about being unable to read you.

A talent to be reckoned with, really. How you both have been with each other for years and still stuck in the awkward guessing stage whenever you go out together.

But weakass communication skills aside...

Uh oh. What if you think of him as a loser, one that is jittery at the notion of.. painting?

No way! He’ll save this, he thinks. Right, he was good at arts and crafts back when he was in school. He can woo you with his crazy painting skills!

With newfound confidence, Isagi picks up an unpainted mug. A blank canvas- for him to turn into one of his creative works, and sweep you off your feet. He picks up a brush, brainstorming ideas of what he can paint onto the mug.

You browse the options, settling on matching mugs with Yoichi’s. Sitting by his side, you dip your brush into the paint of your choice, and start to draw strokes of what you have in mind onto the delicate surface of the mug.

“Has your season come to an end? You’ve been more free lately,” You ask, just to start a conversation. “As in, you’ve been coming over a lot more.”

Isagi’s mouth forms an ‘o’, “Right. Yeah, it's my off-season right now.” He pauses to think, “I’ll be free until next month, I guess.”

You hum at his answer, “You still practice a lot, even on your holidays.”

“Ah, well. That’s just..” He blushes, feeling a bit shy that you’ve noticed his passionate attitude towards football.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” You laugh at his embarrassment, “You love football. That much I know of.”

Isagi feels his heart flutter at that. God, you remind him of how much he loves you every time without fail. Doing so much to him while you haven’t even started on pampering him with kisses and sweet words.

He swears you’re perfect- just for him. You fit perfectly, providing all kinds of comfort and support that he never knew he needed. All on your own accord.

You love, care and recognize his dreams. What more could a man ask for?

The world's best lover for the world's best striker. (an overkill but he's delulu like that)

He swallows hard, wanting to let all the bottled up giddy feelings burst out and embrace you. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Maybe he’s not the best with words. The peak of his creativity with verbal finesse is really just spitting flame on the field- something that he secretly hopes you’ll never get to witness.

Most he can do now is to paint what he loves the most- you, and his football of course, onto the mug.

With each delicate stroke of his brush, he carefully fills in the colours with love. Painting a simplified version of your general features, he then adds the football next to you. Ending the piece by tracing a giant frame of heart around both you and the ball.

He checks his work, scanning for any small mistakes then carefully writes ‘World’s #1 Striker’ onto the free space next to his painting.

He smirks proudly at that.

You send him a side-eye then chuckle at his satisfied look, touching up on the details and colours of your own piece of art.

Seems like you both share very similar sentiments in your paintings. You opt to paint what you love the most- your cats, with your lovely boyfriend in between.

Instead of acting up on your ego like him, though, you settled on painting mini hearts to fill out the free space.

Give it a week, and your mugs will be delivered back to you. The previously plain ceramics painted over with a sheen of love, reflecting the experience you both created and the bond you’ve both strengthened over the date.

—

“Meow”

Alexis runs up to you the moment you enter the door. Eagerly pawing up at your legs.

You notice his faded magenta is re-dyed, and his usual pressed down fur is now more fluffed up. The natural caramel brown is now more contrasting with the bright magenta.

“Hi, ‘Lexis. Did you have a good time?” You pick him up and start to kiss him all over his now very soft and fluffy fur. “I missed you too, baby. You look so pretty. Do you feel pretty?”

The now fluffier (re-dyed) magenta cat basks in your attention, lapping his tongue at your chin while purring happily.

The old man walks up to you with Michael strutting along next to him.

“I’ve given this one a whole makeover,” He muses, “Alexis was the one who chose that colour for him.”

Michael glances up at you proudly with his pretty blue eyes- now matching with the new dye he wears on his blond fur: on the top of his ears and the ends of his tail. His fur is noticeably shorter, and a little choppy around his head, framing his usual fluffy face.

It makes him look so silly, to be honest. But he’s so satisfied with it, you decide to not comment on the choppy part.

You do, however, comment on his new dye job.

“What a beautiful shade of blue,” You coo at him, giving into his attempt at flaunting for compliments. “Look at you, my little emperor. So royal.” His fluffy tail stands up high, and wags in approval.

Returning your attention to the old manager, you teasingly ask, “Were they on their best behaviour, old man?”

He chuckles and nods at the two cats now staring at him, “Yup. They’re good alright. I’d say they deserve some new toys and some premium kibbles.”

You smile, satisfied hearing his response. “Well, I did promise to restock Alexis’ favourite kibble.” You pick Michael up along with Alexis, then place them on the seat of a trolley nearby.

Turning to your idle boyfriend (who has been nervously eyeing a certain magenta cat), you ask, “Could you help me get the premium kibbles, ‘Ichi? I’ll bring these two around for them to pick their new toys.”

Isagi smiles crookedly, “Sure, honey.” He tries to shrug off the way the blond cat is narrowing his eyes at him, but mostly at the ominous smile the magenta one is sending him. “Take your time.”

He’ll just have to find a way to counter the two jealous kitties soon.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

a barking cat video made me write allat

- im ngl i feel kinda shy writing lovey dovey romance, u can tell its really stiff - probably will resort back to chaos dumping or maybe will try to put myself out there

#- yu : writing ༊*·˚ #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #alexiss ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #ooh i don't like this one

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

#bbc sherlock #may prompts 2024 #mayprompts2024 #jolie writes #imperfect #bbc sherlock fanfiction #johnlock #old married couple #johnlock fanfiction

[reiding-writing]

What about, copycat unsub reader! Escaping 👀👀 spencers reaction and maybe her visiting him before running of forever and he pretends she never did cuz he kinda doesn't want her to get caught 👀👀

WHAT IF YOU ESCAPED?

spencer & gn!unsub!reader || 0.9k || unsub!reader masterlist!!

main masterlist!!

a/n — wrote this idea through phone messages rather than a physical visit bc they’re on the opposite sides of the country to each other, hope it’s alright nonetheless <3

When your ‘disappearance’ hit the news, Spencer wasn’t even sure he was mad about it.

It was horrible really, for a small part of his mind to be a little relieved for you. You were a serial killer for god’s sake. With eighteen—nineteen if you counted Nueves’ indirect death— victims under your belt.

He should be concerned if anything. A seasoned killer on the loose in California who feasibly could go on another killing spree.

But god would he be lying if he said that he hoped you got caught.

He knew there was no logical way for your transfer to an in-patient facility to get expedited, or even to be put through at all despite how cooperative you had been, and it was honestly devastating.

He didn’t think you were a bad person, you were someone who needed help, and they were blatantly refusing to give it to you.

So yeah, maybe he didn’t want you to get caught and thrown back in jail.

Especially considering it would mean an indefinite extension on your sentence, if not them abandoning any knowledge of your illness completely and reconsidering you for the death penalty.

Of course that was something he kept to himself.

He didn’t even want to think about how the team would react if he said he was happy that a serial killer was on the loose, not that he was even sure he’d consider you an active ‘threat’.

What he didn’t even consider thinking about was the implications it had for him directly. Maybe he should’ve.

It wasn’t even 24 hours after the State of California had issued an emergency report on your escape that Spencer received a message from an unknown number to his cellphone.

‘thank you’

‘I’m sorry, who is this?’

It was so generic of a message that it could’ve easily been a coincidental mistake.

‘somebody’

He was sure it wasn’t.

‘Are you safe?’

There’s a few seconds of nothing but three dots bouncing on the bottom left of his screen, then they disappear with no response and Spencer’s afraid he’s made a mistake.

It had to be you right? Who else could it feasibly be?

How did you even get his phone number in the first place?

He takes a minute to think.

When over the six days he’d spent with you all those months ago did you manage to get Spencer’s number? Or a phone for that matter?

You did message him using Emily’s phone right before Nueves made a pin cushion out of her eye, maybe you’d committed it to memory then.

Who knows how you actually got a phone to contact him though. Who knows why you wanted to contact him at all, and to say ‘thank you’ no less.

Spencer wasn’t sure he’d really done anything to deserve your thanks. He’d just treated you like he would treat anybody else.

‘Good luck.’

The three dots return, and Spencer feels like his heart might jump out of his chest.

‘i won’t need it’

He almost laughs at your reply. Of course you wouldn’t think that you needed luck when you were running from every single enforcer of the law in the state of California.

‘Good luck anyway.’

“Genius,”

Spencer’s head shoots upright from his phone towards Morgan’s voice, guilt written all over his face despite how he tries to mask it. “Huh?”

“Stop texting your secret partner and get your pretty boy face in here,” There’s an air of amusement in Morgan’s tone as he gestures with his head towards the door to the conference room, and Spencer’s face flushes in embarrassment almost immediately.

“That’s not— I wasn’t—”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say Reid, c’mon,” Morgan disappears into the conference room before Spencer can respond.

Great. Morgan thinks the escaped serial killer he’s messaging is someone he’s secretly romantically involved with.

Like his life could get any more complicated.

He drags himself out of his chair with a groan, slotting his phone into the pocket of his slacks as he walks up the stairs towards the conference room, trudging to his seat and blatantly ignoring the teasing stare Morgan throws at him as he sits down.

It’s barely five minutes into the meeting before Spencer gets distracted by a buzz in his pocket. And then another.

‘goodbye dr reid’

‘thank you’

“Reid?”

“Hm?” Spencer’s head snaps up towards Hotch’s with a start, and it only serves to leave Morgan even more suspicious of his actions.

Of his ‘secret partner’ that’s actually a serial killer on the run.

“Focus, please,” Although naturally stern in it’s nature, Hotch’s tone isn’t as reprimanding as it probably should be.

Spencer switches his phone off for the rest of the meeting, and when he finally turns it back on again he can’t say he’s not disappointed at the fact there’s no new messages for him to read.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #bloodied roses 🥀

[corvidcrossbow]

Daryl's the kinda guy to have a small table in the living room that has the puzzle he's been slowly working on for practically months set out on it – he delicately moves it in front of the couch then sits and silently works on it some evenings, expect for little grunts of understanding when he finally figures out a certain section he was stumped on.

He gets so flustered when you come over to look, standing beside the couch and rubbing his shoulder for a little bit while admiring his work, and he so shyly says a thanks, sheepishly reaching for the next piece while you watch for a little.

He likes to go do it some nights where he can't sleep and feels like he's gonna disturb you by just lying awake next to you in bed, usually when he's having a harder time emotionally – this gives him something to do rather than sulk, even though the thoughts still do get to him while he's working on it sometimes.

Oh god and once he probably went to do that, but Dog came over and had a bit too much energy and knocked the table just enough for everything to slide off and crumble to the floor, ruined.

He just sat there for a moment, looking at the 3d triangular shape his nearly finished puzzle landed in. He didn't even sigh in defeat; he just got up and trekked his way back to your bedroom, gently waking you up by crawling into your arms.

And he buried his head into your neck, breathing you in uneasily and trying to steady himself. But as you rubbed his back and scratched his scalp, asking him what's wrong, he couldn't help but cry a little cause he already felt so negative and now felt sort of crushed, the time and effort he put into that for nothing. It makes him feel stupid; like why is he crying over a damn puzzle? He's a grown man, in a fucking apocalypse. He doesn't have time to cry over something so childish, let alone be doing a puzzle in the first place.

But your soothing helped to wash away his self loathing, tenderly reminding him it's okay to be upset about those kinda things: that it may be small in the perspective of the world, but it meant something to him. He put his time and his effort into it, and that's what made it something big.

That made him cry harder, your confirmation that it's okay to cry, getting that allowance to. His father surely banned crying, even over major things like his moms death, telling him there's no reason for a man to ever cry – and every time he'd beat him he would repeatedly demand he stop crying, until he eventually did: and the only times he ever cried were when he'd escape to be deep in the forest, sit alone and let his walls down for a little before having to put them all back up and face his homelife again, and shamed himself for doing such in the first place.

You're what finally let him express his love for the little things, and express how he felt when bad things happen with said little things.

He definitely didn't have many toys growing up, so he turned to things like puzzles – secretly doing them in his room late at night then shoving them under his bed when he wasn't working on it cause he knew Merle or his dad would make fun of him for it or destroy it – so doing puzzles now heals his inner child, and it getting knocked over hurt him even more cause it brought him back to those memories.

This was not meant to get sad but now I'm tearyeyed at 4:30 am while writing this. He's just tryna mend the kid his childhood broke :(

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryldixon #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon angst #daryl drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #twd daryl dixon #soft!daryl #i just wanna hold him :( #norman reedus #normanreedus #twd

[bubblergoespop]

EA ramble so Spoilers hehehhe (it’s very long and half of it probably doesn’t make sense i’m sorry)

FIRST OF ALL the start of the audio oh em gee he’s such a horny bastard i love it. i need to stop saying that um anyway. tbh i wasn’t even caught off guard that much bc that’s just the kind of thing i expected from a porter audio.

THE SAM CALLL AAWHHH porter’s genuine shock at sam, vincent and lovely leaving the house hurts me because he can’t seem to fathom having the kind of freedom and lack of obligation to make that choice AGH and i love his attitude he’s so silly.

“i am busy with someone very important to me.” kill me now please i can’t take this anymore. this whole audio’s focus was the fact that porter and treasure don’t know each other that well but despite that, porter cares too much about treasure to just up and leave them even at the mention of his house falling apart. it’s crazy how much he cares for treasure already and I LOVE IT wow sure do hope nothing bad happens to this weak defenceless unempowered human….

speaking of unempowered, i LOVE that porter addressed the power imbalance and how that was affecting treasure’s responses to him. i know treasure seemed to be stubborn, straightforward and upfront in porter’s sleep aid audio but i have a feeling that after porter denied “talking” so adamantly, treasure didn’t want to keep pushing him. not just out of care but also a slight hint of fear. not only are they unempowered but they were also completely uninformed before porter and i’m sure they still know little to nothing about the magical world. i can’t blame them for being hesitant to push a vampire, whose abilities they don’t really know the full extent of. saying that, they do still obviously care for porter and i’m so so glad that porter addressed this to ensure that treasure’s fear of giving the “wrong answer” doesn’t hurt their relationship with him.

and on the topic of their relationship, porter’s soft “do we?” after talking about the possibility of wanting to make their relationship long-term and more in depth AAAAAHHHH he’s so cute. and him acknowledging that it’s been a while since he’s had the desire or even the time to get to know someone outside of the solaire house hurts my heart so much. the fact that even after he was “freed” of his maker, he still was too absorbed by the need to appease william that he didn’t have time to live his own life outside of that is so painful to think about and i love it. also he’s just cute when he’s unsure heheh.

ngl i thought porter mentioning treasure’s surname would lead to him revealing his own true surname. but that’s mostly just me being hopeful because it’s still quite soon in his and treasure’s relationship. he doesn’t even know treasure’s surname so i doubt he’s in any place to just drop something so personal, maybe even something that brings up such emotional memories considering even his life before turning wasn’t the best.

porter’s little darling’s hehehe erik loves that term of endearment so much i swear. OH and porter’s repeated mentions of sam, to me, prove that there is something more to sam’s friendship with porter than there seems to have been shown to us. sam himself has already said he has a sort of tolerance for porter’s bullshit, even if it has limits. and now, porter’s mentions of sam throughout a conversation that doesn’t involve him tells me that the pair are closer than they seemed to be. which makes sam leaving the house hurt even more oh my god i can’t believe how porter feels considering maybe the one person in the house he could stand to be around is leaving. and even after trying to make up with vincent, now vincent is leaving too. porter lets pack our bags too and run away together as well please, you deserve everything.

UGH TREASURE MEETING SAM AUDIO WHENNNN??? erik please give sam a chance to reflect the “sam landed you?” comment onto porter with treasure.

AAAGGGHHHHH i can’t wait to see where this relationship goes. i didn’t think this would turn into such a long ramble wow i love this man (he’s fictional) he’s such a cutie (he has no canon appearance) i wanna marry him (he’s nothing but a voice).

#thank you erik for switching the dates i’m going to combust #i think i’m actually going crazy #redacted early access #redacted patreon #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted porter #redacted treasure

[rabbit-or-rib]

full nsfw alphabet for toby??

posting this from the glue trap i'm stuck in

🪓 Toby Rogers NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare, what they’re like after sex

checks in with you a WHOLE BUNCH- he wants to make sure you know he loves you and cares about you no matter how hard y'all were going not even 5 minutes ago

B = Body part, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

on him, i think it's a tie between his arms and his hair if that counts lolz. he likes how strong his arms are and likes to try n show off in front of you- he likes both how his hair looks, and he thinks his happy trail suits him

in you, i'd say your chest- in both a romantic and sexual sense :) he loves laying on you, listening and feeling your heartbeat, the closeness, all of it. he also loves leaving hickies all across it, little mindless bites and kisses decorating you from him getting lost on the feeling of you.

C = Cum, anything to do with cum, basically

he's a sucker for cumming inside, he just can't get over how you squeeze him and how fucked out you look

D = Dirty secret, pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

he jerked off to the thought of you WAAYYYY before y'all were dating- he was too embarrassed to tell you when you first started dating and he's too scared now. probably.

E = Experience, how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

love him to the ends of the earth, he has nothing. nada. zilch. you're his first everything, be patient with him cus he's gonna be nervous !! that does NOT mean he has shame though. he is not at all embarrassed to tell you when he wants you.

F = Favorite position, this goes without saying

anything with you on top- as i said he's a boobs/chest kinda guy, he wants to watch

G = Goofy, are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.

he's more serious, but it's mostly because he's concentrated. he wants to do his best to make you feel good and he wants to focus!!

H = Hair, how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

i think he trims, but he doesn't wanna shave unless you ask him to (mostly because he has a tendency to accidentally nick himself with the razor)

he gets some facial hair on his chin, but it's nothing super serious. he'll jokingly ask you to help him with it sometimes, if you say yes you'll be rewarded with a very flustered boyfriend that keeps letting out shaky breaths every time you put your hand on his chest to keep him still

I = Intimacy, how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

it really depends on his mood, but most of the time he's romantic about everything; telling you how much he loves you, all the noises you make, how fucking good you feel. if he's in a mood though, expect most of the words flowing out of his mouth to be about how bad he needs you, and reminding you that you're all for him.

J = Jack off, masturbation headcanon

it's. a lot. and it's mostly because he thought too hard about you- whether it was a small thing you did earlier that day that he thought was hot or his mind drifted to certain memories of you

K = Kink, one or more of their kinks

Toby praise kink truthers in this house !!!!!!!! lean over into his ear while you're riding him and tell him how pretty he looks when he's close, tell him you feel so full when he fucks you; he's putty in your hands

L = Location, favorite places to do they do

anywhere private- not big on getting caught by other people (catching you on the other hand is something else)

M = Motivation, what turns them on, gets them going

dead serious anything. you stretching in front of him, bending over to grab something, you smiling into a kiss- you get him hot and bothered by doing nothing and everything. (he does also really like it when you take any kinda control over him- even if it's just telling him in any kinda stern tone to go do something)

N = No, something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs

nothing that would seriously hurt you, and nothing to do with a daddy kink, sorry shawtys

O = Oral, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

he definitely prefers giving. loves how your thighs squeeze around his head, the feeling of you tugging at his hair, getting fistfuls of your ass as he pulls himself further into you.

he's such a mess receiving though, he's so sensitive and you look so pretty when you look up at him while he's halfway down your throat. he likes it when you take control when you're giving him head

P = Pace, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

tends to get lost in the feeling of you and ends up fucking you at a rough and fast pace, no matter how slow he started off. of course you can tell him to slow down if you really need him to, but his rough grip on your thighs and the whimpers and pants in your ear tell you just how bad he needs you.

Q = Quickie, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

they're not his favorite, but there have definitely been a few times where he just could not keep his hands off of you when the two of you were out and he pulled you aside. prefers to be able to take him time with you and draw things out a bit, but he'd never say no to you

R = Risk, are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.

he'll experiment with you !! it just has to be thoroughly talked about first

S = Stamina, how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

UNTIL HIS BODY GIVES OUT BABES- he does not care how tired his body gets, if you're down to keep going, he is too.

T = Toys, do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?

doesn't own any himself, and might be a lil shy using them on you, but he's a crying mess when you use them on him. he gets so overwhelmed so fast- make sure you tell him how good he's being <3

U = Unfair, how much they like to tease

he had no idea how to tease you for the first little bit- but as soon as he figured out how he could draw out little whines and begs for him to keep going, he could not get enough. can't do it for too long, though, he gets impatient

V = Volume, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

he is LOUD, panting, whimpering, whining- the whole nine yards. you feel fucking heavenly to him and he just can't help it :(( poor boy's sensitive

W = Wild card, a random headcanon for the character

he likes to have music in the back when y'all are going at it- he doesn't need it and it wouldn't be super loud, but it is nice to have background noise. some she wants revenge or somethin

X = X-ray, let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

~6.5, skinnier with such a sensitive tip

Y = Yearning, how high is their sex drive?

VERY this boy is down for anything 24/7 if you mention it. will wrap his arms around you from behind and whine into your neck if he's feeling needy.

Z = Zzz, how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?

if he was more rough or dominant with you, he doesn't wanna fall asleep until you do. if you were the one to take more charge, he'll certainly try to stay up !! but he's usually pretty spent and ends up asleep on your chest, gently holding your hand

#rabbit writings #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby smut #toby rogers smut

[angellurgy]

its my fault its all my fault and its too late to go back on it everyone hates me or ignores me now even more than the casual exclusion from before. i dont even have the irl friends i came here for i dont have az i dont have anyone and the more im forced to rot away the more i rot the more it festers the more you all forget me but you already forgot me anyway bc i scared ppl too much and one attempt is bad enuff so you cant be worried about more or care after ur just burnt out and i get it but fucking. nothing. i used to be at least like, smth a little. like ppl talked to me sometimes. now im just nothing, isolated little freak who tried to kill itself so gets the ultimate punishment of everything that was the problem before times 1000. mental illness so bad talking is like a battle against myself because ive doing it so little, i cant do anything and i have no help and im too hopeless to even die im trying to work up the effort and energy but it doesnt come so i just rot and dissociate and ramble incessantlt on here hoping someone who i would kill to hear from will msg me or something to tell me that im noy hated or that ppl will start liking me again but it never comes because im rotting so it never changes and i know people hate me for not responding to them while i post shit like this which just makes ppl dislike me or be dissuaded from msging me even more but im just fucking in a pit and every single thing pushes me back in it. im trying to write poetry of the places i go in my dreams but i cant even muster the brajnpower must of the time. even when i retreat into myself and try to think about a future i know from what i see that nothing is possible because of what i am - and i am so fucking sorry for being what i am. i want so much, but i need too much help in order to do it. im too contradictory. too stupid. too 'kicked dog'. ill never escape this at this point. never. all i do is lose more and more, even if the passport application goes thru at this rate idk if ill have anyone to stay with/visit. i just needed fucking help. need help. but im too. helpless. so im just ranting here to no one, annoying my mutuals even more, the ones that have forgotten any memory of me except bad things, and losing even more when i come back. but i cant stop myself from posting bc i have nowhere else to put any thoughts n its the only chance of anything. ive been fucking trying. but. i cant do everything. i cant do most things right now in this state. i need help. but all i do is lose. weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sorry. sorry for not dying. i feel so so so fucking bad. all the time. for not dying and for wasting everyones thoughts and energy. for wasting their hope and their anger. even if im cracked open mentally now i dont think ill ever make up for it until i die. im sorry. no ones gonna fucking read this lol. im still sorry. god i wish anyone still thought abt me. i sont get msgs from anyone anymore except for a couple family. i feel so detached. even tho i want back in. i cant. i forgot how it works. sorry

[zaldritzosrose]

Burn For Me (Masema Dagar x Goddess!Reader)

Summary: Masema had become a devoted follower the moment he saw you, but he had never anticipated just how far he would go to prove his devotion. (Part Two for Burn With Me)

TW: MINORS DNI. She/Her pronouns, afab reader, no smut this time (ikr look at me!), little bit more dark and angsty this time, Masema being psychopathic yet down bad for his woman, Rand being a shit stirrer, reader being a literal goddess.

Words: 2049 words

The word of the Dragon, of the newfound goddess had been spread far and wide, all Masema’s doing. He was addicted. Addicted to you, your mere presence was like the very thread tying him to the earth below. He had named himself Prophet and you had not stopped him. Though you had not encouraged him either. If anything, you had simply sat by and let what happened, happen.

There were few moments Masema was not at your side. Whether stood like a guard at your shoulder or wrapped in your embrace, he was like an extension of you.

A fact which had not gone unnoticed by the others that followed you. Rand, specifically, considering he was for the most part, closest to Masema.

“You cannot keep allowing him to do as he pleases,” Rand snapped, momentarily forgetting your place as his superior as his anger at your failure to intervene took hold of him.

“He burns villages who refuse to support you, claiming the death and destruction in your name.”

As usual, your face was a mask of cool indifference.

“A dragon does not concern itself with the opinion of sheep, Rand.” Was all you replied, earning a sigh of frustration from the man before you.

“But he was warned, you were all warned,” you continued, stepping closer to Rand and tapping the dragon sigil on his pendant, an honour to you.

“There is a price for being at my side, and Masema seems the only one willing to pay it.”

Rand huffed out his annoyance, trying to ignore your proximity. He had almost been in Masema’s place, once. Wielding his sword in your name, spreading the word of your power and prophecy. But he had never let himself fall so far. Now, however, it seemed he was seeing a side he did not like.

“Do not forget your place, Rand. Do not forget upon whose shoulders you stand.”

Masema watched, head tilted as the flames burned around him. He had hoped the villagers would see reason. Understand his goddess as he did, but it was not meant to be. He had warned them what defiance would cause. What he would be forced to do. And still, they had not listened.

It was not the first village he had put to the torch, though the destruction he left in his wake had gained his name quite the reputation.

Murderer.

False Prophet.

Madman.

All names volleyed at him like insults. Insults that washed over him like smoke. Words that barely hurt him anymore. He had your protection, words meant nothing to him.

When the flames began to die, only then did Masema mount his horse and signal for his men to leave. There was little rhyme or reason to his path, he simply followed the whispers in his head.

Your voice, soft, tempting. Willing him to bring more followers to your cause. And he always listened. The burning buildings were soon a distant memory as Masema rode on to his next destination.

Your conversation with Rand only seemed to sour the relationship between the two of you, especially in Masema’s absence. Stories of Masema’s deeds would always reach your camp, some wondered if they were exaggerated, but the more the stories came, the more people realised that every word was true.

The burning villages, the charred bodies he left in his wake. All true, and more devastating each time.

Rand had not hesitated to begin speaking with others about the fact. Your lack of care towards what Masema was doing irked him more than he ever thought it would. It was not the lack of care towards the destroyed villages and murdered citizens – he had long learned you cared little for the fate of mortals.

It was your lack of concern towards Masema’s mentality. Towards his sanity. It was this that reminded Rand that you were not of his world. A being so far removed from mortality. He wondered, then, if you held any feelings for Masema passed the intimacies he knew you shared.

He had seen the mornings Masema would emerge from your temple. The faintest teeth marks and scratches littering his skin, the scent of your oils on his clothing. There was no doubt he was more than a loyal follower.

Which made your indifference all the more confusing.

How could you not care for Masema’s wellbeing? The way you looked at him at times could even be argued to be loving. Yet you barely blinked when Masema’s deeds reached your ears.

Months had passed when word of Masema’s return reached you. But dissent in the camp had reached a fever pitch, with Rand spreading concern for whether you truly cared for any of them.

His words had brought the people around you into two divisive sides. Those who refused to believe their goddess could ever be so heartless, who accused Rand of being jealous of Masema replacing him at your side. And those who agreed with Rand. Who agreed that your leniency towards Masema was dangerous. That was he was doing was not what they wished to be connected to.

Some had already left, and you had not stopped them. You had no use for people who did not believe in what you told them. What surprised you, however, was that Rand stayed. Despite the vitriol he spewed against you, he stayed.

You had exited your temple to the sight of Rand surrounded by what remained of your followers. If you could still give them such a title. Part of you wondered if Rand would have been so bold in his dissent if Masema had remained at your side, but that was now the least of your concerns.

You watched quietly from the steps of your temple as Rand addressed his captive audience.

“…and the stories of death and destruction are just the start, who knows what horrors could be committed if-“

The heavy thud of hooves stopped Rand in his tracks instantly.

Masema.

“No, my friend, continue.” Masema growled, dismounting his horse and walking slowly to stand at Rand’s shoulder.

You had still not left the temple steps even as he reached the crowd. Rand seemed to shrink into himself at the sight of the man he had just been prepared to insult.

“Masema, my dear friend…I was simply trying to explain...” Rand’s words faltered again under Masema’s glare.

“So, explain, I am here to listen just as your companions are,” Masema’s words her steady, but the tone held the faintest of threats.

And Rand knew one wrong word could spell disaster. If there was one thing Masema was known for not tolerating, it was insults on your name. The silence hung heavy as Rand turned back to the group, knowing he had no choice but to continue.

“I say to all of you now, decide if you wish to continue following someone who would condone such senseless violence with not an ounce of guilt,” Rand’s words were no longer as sure, with Masema’s mismatched eyes boring a whole in his back.

“Are you saying our goddess does not care for us, Rand?” Masema asked, his hand rested on the pommel of his sword as he spoke.

“I am saying, what she allows you to do is verging on diabolical. How can we follow someone who shows such little care for the lives of others!” Rand turned to Masema now, realising there was no good way to end this interaction.

So, he chose to stand his ground.

“Has she not given us better lives? Freed us from paths of darkness and desolation?” Masema’s voice was calm, but his whole demeanour was like that of a predator watching its next kill. Primed and ready to attack.

You had descended the steps at this point, edging closer to the scene unfolding before you.

“Free from darkness and desolation? How can you say that when you have left nothing but death and destruction in your wake, all in her name?” Rand countered, his voice raising in barely contained frustration.

Masema’s reasoning was ridiculous. How could he truly believe that?

“You have truly descended to madness, if you believe that any of this is right!” Rand continued and took a few steps towards Masema, his hand dropping to his own sword.

Masema tilted his head, the aura of calm he held putting everyone around him on edge. He had always struck some semblance of fear into those around him. His proficiency as a warrior was the main cause. But now? It was the unpredictability of him that had people fearing his name.

“Can you not see the hold she has on you? How you have let this creature sink her claws so deep into yo-“

The blade tip that nudged Rand’s throat soon halted his words. He had crossed a line calling you a creature, and he knew the time had passed for apologies. Masema growled so low, it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Do not dare to speak of her with such disrespect.” Masema pushed the tip of his sword a little harsher against Rand’s throat. The atmosphere was tense, as the small crowd at Rand’s back began to call for a duel.

You were on the outskirts of the crowd now, a strange sensation of déjà vu taking over as your mind drifted back to the first time Masema had been in your sights. But you knew, now, it would soon be your time to intervene.

The surrounding followers quickly made a ring around the two men, both now with their blades drawn and ready. The fight started with little preamble; the tensions so high the air felt like it was charged. You watched intently as your two best warriors fought for the honour of your name. For the privilege, it seemed, of being the one you chose.

The fight was evenly matched, Rand was quick were Masema was strong. Both men trapped in an endlessly battle for dominance that neither seemed willing to concede.

After what seemed like an eternity, Masema gained the advantage, quickly bringing Rand to his knees before him.

“Make your apologies, and I will make your death quick and honourable,” Masema hissed, his sword pointed at Rand’s heart.

What no one expected, was your voice over the crowd.

“No more. Put your sword down, Masema.”

A look of confusion crossed his face, but when he met your eyes, he was quick to obey your command. His sword was thrown to his feet, out of Rand’s reach. You stepped into the makeshift ring, eyes never leaving the pair. Masema stepped back as you approached.

You placed yourself between the two men, your back to Masema as you stared down at Rand.

“You are a lucky man, Rand Al’Thor, destiny speaks, and you are not to die today.” You said softly, your fingers trailing from his forehead and back over his head.

He tensed as he felt your skin against his, and he could have sworn he felt the sensation of burning at the touch.

“But disrespect does not go unpunished,”

Fear gripped Rand as your touch became firmer, fingers pushing into the curves of his temples.

“You are no longer favoured by fate, Rand Al’Thor. You are no longer favoured by me.”

His body felt heavy as he felt all the gifts you had ever bestowed upon him seep from his body, a feeling akin to flames against his flesh. He quietly begged for you to stop, for your forgiveness. But your word was final.

He may be protected by destiny, meant for a path greater than you. But he was no longer in your protection. The Dragon no longer needed her once beloved sword.

Rand’s head sank low in shame as your hands left him. A feeling of emptiness taking over him. But what you did next, hurt him even more. Your attention turned to Masema, a look that could be mistaken for love in your eyes.

Your voice was low as your hand rested over Masema’s heart. The heart you had burned your way into along with his mind. He groaned as he felt the power now slip into his veins, into his very soul. Binding him to you as Rand had once been.

“Masema Dagar, will you burn for me?”

a/n as always this is for my Arnas/Masema girlies @foxyanon @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @thenameswinter99 and @legitalicat for not only inspiring me to write part two, but for listening to the brain rot i've had over this fic! Love you!

#masema dagar #masema x reader #wheel of time #masema x you #masema dagar x you #reader insert #x reader angst #reader fanfiction

[callisto-corner]

Sword and Serenade | Roronoa Zoro

Chapter One | Bound by Silence

Zoro carries a face akin to a blank sheet, devoid of readable emotions, his features a canvas of stoic calm. The blankness of his face does not signify emptiness but rather a mastery over his emotions, a warrior's mask that reveals nothing and conceals everything.

It's in the subtle clench of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, and the steadiness of his breath that one can glimpse the intensity and strength he harbors within. To the untrained eye, he might appear indifferent, but those who know him understand that beneath that serene exterior lies a mind constantly at work, strategizing, reflecting, and preparing for whatever challenge lies ahead.

He never saw himself in a relationship as all he wished was to be a great swordsman, which left no time for any relations.Expect the unexpected. You were a force to be reckoned with, the epitome of strength. It wasn’t your physical strength but your mindset and determined nature that he silently praised, looking forward to seeing how you would get yourself out of certain situations. There was something about your unwavering resolve and the fire in your eyes that resonated deeply with him, stirring feelings he had long buried beneath his quest for mastery.

Zoro tried to train off the feeling of unease, reading his growing affection as a bad omen. He trains and trains even more throughout the days, prioritizing his health as he thinks something will occur. Every swing of his sword, every drop of sweat is an attempt to quell the turmoil within him. The intensity of his regimen reaches new heights, each session longer and more grueling than the last.

He pushes his body to its limits, seeking solace in the familiar strain of his muscles and the rhythmic sound of his breathing. The discipline and rigor of his training have always been his sanctuary, a place where he can drown out the noise of his thoughts. Yet, no matter how hard he trains, the unease lingers, a persistent whisper at the back of his mind.

Zoro's nights are restless, his dreams filled with shadowy figures and indistinct fears. He wakes before dawn, the first light of the sun finding him already in the midst of his morning drills. He spars with an unseen opponent, his movements precise and powerful, but his mind is not entirely focused. He wonders if this new feeling is a distraction, a weakness that could jeopardize his path to becoming the greatest swordsman.

In moments of solitude, when the cold water soothes his muscles after yet another day of training, he allows himself to think about you. He searches within himself and perhaps a way to stop it but doesn't at the same time. These memories soften his resolve, and he starts to wonder if there was anything even wrong with him

Zoro's internal struggle doesn't go unnoticed by the crew. They see the conflict in his eyes, the way his usual focus is occasionally disrupted by fleeting glances in your direction. Chopper, despite his best medical efforts, can't diagnose the turmoil of a heart wrestling with newfound emotions.

Nights come and go, and Zoro thinks he is doing better. After dinner, he finds himself standing at the ship's railing, staring out at the starry sky. His hair, a lovely shade of green, glows under the moonlight, casting an ethereal light on his features. You approach him with your shawl wrapped around your chilled figure, seeking warmth in the cool night air. His heartbeat doesn't feel right, and he takes it as a test, cursing under his breath as you climb the stairs to him.

Your footsteps are soft, but Zoro tenses at the sound, his grip on the railing tightening. You stop a few feet away, hesitating. His silhouette is stark against the backdrop of the sea, the moonlight casting shadows across his face.

"Zoro," you call softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. He doesn't turn, his shoulders rigid, the tension in his stance palpable.

you take a tentative step closer, the wooden deck creaking underfoot. "Can we talk?"

His jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply through his nose. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, his voice flat and distant.

You pull your shawl tighter around your frame, feeling the chill of the night air. "How cold," you say, a chuckle erupting from your chest. You sweep a few strands of hair behind your ear, squinting beyond the strong breeze. "I just want to understand."

You step beside him, the night air crisp and silent. He doesn't turn, his gaze remaining distant. "What do you want to understand?” His tone is flat, but there's a tremor beneath it.

You tilt your head slightly, studying his profile. The moonlight highlights the sharp angles of his face, casting half of it in deep shadow. His eyes are distant, reflecting the myriad of stars above but revealing nothing of the storm within. The gentle sway of the ship seems to mirror the uncertainty in your heart.

"I want to understand you," you say softly, your voice carrying a mix of concern and curiosity. "You've been different lately."

Zoro's shoulders stiffen, his knuckles turning white as he grips the railing harder. The wind whips through his hair, tousling the usually pristine strands into disarray. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turns to meet your gaze, his eyes scanning your face with a mix of uncertainty and turmoil.

His lips part as if to speak, but no words come out at first. The tension in his body is palpable, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Finally, he exhales heavily, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

"What do you want to understand?" His voice is barely above a whisper, the usual strength and conviction replaced by a note of vulnerability. As he speaks, his hand moves to absentmindedly adjust the collar of his dark green jacket, a habitual gesture that betrays his inner turmoil.

In the moonlight, you notice a subtle change in his demeanor, a softening of the hard edges that usually define his stoic facade. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than usual, his eyes betraying a depth of emotion that he struggles to conceal. It's as if he's on the verge of breaking through the walls he's built around himself, allowing you a glimpse of the vulnerable man beneath the warrior's mask.\ As he stuffs his hand into his jacket, you notice the subtle shift in his posture, the way his movements seem more deliberate, almost hesitant. His features, usually stern and impassive, soften ever so slightly as he regards you.

There's a moment of silence between you, the only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the side of the ship. You meet his gaze, your own expression mirroring his uncertainty. "I'm saying that I'm here for you, Zoro," you reply softly, your voice carrying a hint of reassurance. "Whatever you're going through, whatever you need, I'm here."

He takes a step closer, the wooden deck creaking softly beneath his boots. His movements are measured, deliberate, as if he's unsure of himself. He passes you without a single word after the sound of his room door closing with a thud.

Why are you even trying this hard? You groan at the question echoes in your mind, a relentless reminder of your doubts and insecurities. You've poured your heart out, offered him your unwavering support, but it feels like you're shouting into the void, your words lost in the vast expanse of the ocean.

With a frustrated grunt, you kick at the wooden flooring beneath your feet, the sound echoing through the empty space around you. It's as if the ship itself shares in your frustration, the creaking of the deck beneath you a symphony of discontent.

Leaning heavily against the railing, you close your eyes and let the ocean breeze wash over you. Its salty cool breath whips your hair in its favor. You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Despite your best efforts, despite laying your heart bare for him to see, Zoro remains closed off, unreachable. It's a bitter pill to swallow, a painful reminder of the barriers that still exist between you.

As days turned into a relentless procession of silence, the ship became a vessel of unspoken tension. The memory of that tense encounter on the deck lingered like a stubborn fog, shrouding any attempt at reconciliation. Communication dwindled to mere nods and fleeting glances, each interaction laden with the weight of unspoken words.

Despite your persistent efforts to breach the fortress of Zoro's walls, his demeanor remained steadfastly distant. His stoic facade seemed impenetrable, deflecting every attempt at meaningful conversation or connection. It was as if he had retreated into the depths of his own thoughts, leaving you stranded on the shores of uncertainty.

In the absence of verbal communication, you sought solace in solitude, retreating to the quiet corners of the ship. The rhythmic sway of the vessel became a familiar lullaby, soothing your troubled mind as you grappled with the weight of the silence that enveloped you. Each day felt like an eternity, a relentless cycle of longing and frustration, as the chasm between you widened with every passing moment.

The air itself seemed heavy with the burden of unspoken words, suffocating in its intensity. You yearned for the days when laughter echoed through the halls of the ship, when conversation flowed freely between you and Zoro. But now, that connection felt like a distant memory, fading into the abyss of silence that stretched between you like an unbridgeable divide.

And so, you found yourself navigating the vast expanse of emptiness that now defined your relationship with Zoro. Each day brought with it a renewed sense of longing, a desperate hope that someday, the silence would be broken, and the walls between you would crumble. But until then, you remained adrift in a sea of, clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope that somewhere beyond the horizon, a bridge would emerge to span the chasm that had torn you apart.

The rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore provided a comforting backdrop to your thoughts, a soothing counterpoint to the turmoil brewing within. You reached for a bottle of rum, the amber liquid offering a temporary respite from the burden of unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Beside you, Robin and Nami lounged on the sand, their presence a silent reassurance in the midst of your inner turmoil. Robin's wise eyes watched you with a knowing gaze, her serene demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos raging within you. Nami, ever the pragmatist, leaned back against the sand, her expression thoughtful as she listened to the sound of the waves.

As you took a long swig from the bottle, the fiery liquid burned a trail down your throat, momentarily distracting you from the ache in your heart. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze wash over you, a fleeting moment of peace in the midst of chaos.

But even in the tranquility of the beach, the weight of the silence lingered, casting a shadow over the horizon. You yearned for the days when laughter echoed through the halls of the ship, when conversations were somewhat comfortable, what could you do but live and move on. It was a great divide you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself to fill.

A/n: This was originally supposed to be a little one-shot, However, I do not run the show my imagination does.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro #with: zoro #one piece zoro #strawhat crew #zoro x reader #zoro one piece #fanfic #zoro roronoa x reader #long reads

[fairycosmos]

hey baby i was wondering if you dream of your sister? bc i dream of my dad so regularly that its disorienting waking up, but its actually kinda nice too. so i was wondering if its like a thing that happens to people who’ve lost a loved one? i love you, youre doing amazing xxx

i do dream of her, though these days she's just kind of casually in my dreams rather than playing like a pivotal role. when she first died she was in them all the time. a lot of the dreams i have are about trying to get in touch with her and begging her to come back, but in the dream she has only moved away, she isn't dead, and our phone connection is always bad so i cant speak to her properly. or we've swapped places and in the dream im dead and she's trying to contact me which is always a proper mindfuck. i think it's normal when grieving to experience lost loved one in dreams, but i know that doesn't make it any easier to handle. i was scared to go to sleep for a long time after she died because i knew dreaming that she was alive and waking up to her being dead would be like finding out she was gone all over again - and it was, but at the same time there's nothing i could do about it. so ive tried to just take them as they come and ground myself when i wake up. breathing exercises, crying, meditation, putting water on my face etc. sometimes it's nice to see them again even if it's not real, but it's definitely super disorienting and i still haven't fully come to terms with the dreams even 3 years later. yeah, i think it's super common and just another part of grief that you have to learn to navigate through (awful) experience. im so sorry about your dad and i truly hope you can find a way to carry on his memory and his presence, even if it's just by living out your own life and being who you are. also thank you sm for being sweet and for the lovely words - i love you too, please keep on taking it one minute at a time. XXX

#anon #ask chloe

[sanalang-ao33]

Prologue [iii.] — three roads, one way

OVERPOWERED by sanalang-ao33

An interactive Twisted Wonderland fanmade story on Tumblr where the readers take control of the plot and make it into a story everyone can enjoy.

Remember, your choices matter. They are powerful.

The readers get to influence the plot, interact with the background characters, their environment, and build meaningful relationships with each character, canon or not.

You can even change what was supposed to transpire, for better o for worse. But that all depends on you all.

Are you ready? Let's go.

CHOSEN RESPONSE. Do it.

— The UNFORGIVABLE Path has been unlocked.

One of the children brought one of the cupcakes’ candles from the leftover food and gave it to [Name]. They held it between two fingers and urged it to set aflame.

Nothing happened, “Huh, why didn’t it work?”

“Maybe it has to be from far away,” said one of them, “Let Liz hold the candle!” The mentioned boy jerked, “What? Why?!”

“You’re [Name]’s best friend and one of the oldest!” They said, but Liz shook his head, “Nuh-uh! I don’t want my fingers burned. No offense, [Nickname].”

“We’ll just let Auntie kiss it better. Here!” The candle gets swiped away from [Name] and placed in Liz’s hands. Liz looks at [Name] nervously.

Their eyes locked, and [Name]’s lips quirk up as they snapped their fingers, thinking:

‘Liz, smile as wide as you can for me.’

[Name] snapped their fingers, but it wasn’t the purple stripe-patterned cupcake candle that lit on fire. It was Liz’s face, the right side of her face burning to a crisp.

Liz screamed loudly as all the children looked at the scene, horrified. They were children, the youngest being three, watching someone die without knowing what to do.

All they know is that [Name] had caused it.

When the adults heard the screaming and crying of their kids upstairs, they arrived far too late. Allistair was already dead.

When questioned, the kids immediately pointed fingers at [Name]. [Name] couldn’t defend themselves as they stood there, with only their parents by their side.

“Your child is a demon incarnate!”

“It was an accident!” [Name]’s mother stood in front of them, shielding them from the multiple pairs of eyes that saw them as a monster. A murderer.

And they were right. Liz was aftaid, yet [Name] still chose to do it.

“An accident caused by pride. Your kid was so eager to show off his cool powers and killed a kid, hear that? KILLED a kid!”

“[Name] is six!”

“Allistair is also six!”

Liz’s mother hasn’t let go of her daughter’s corpse as she weeped while her mother comforted her by rubbing circles on her back and whispering reassurances.

Moments later, they hear police sirens outside the house. Apparently, one of the teenagers had called the cops when they heard the words “killed Liz” upstairs.

[Name] blocked out the rest of their memory about what happened.

YEARS LATER

“The nature of your soul is quiet. Eerily quiet, yet there’s a nagging noise muffled by its silence. You seek to mold yourself into perfection.” [Name]’s eyes narrow. They didn’t like how it’s announcing it to the entire room of students and staff members.

Is this how dorm sorting normally goes?

“Diasomnia!” The students in cloaks clapped as [Name] headed towards the seats where his dorm mates were sitting.

Though they found it quite strange that their Housewarden wasn’t here.

Who knows who and where he was? What a bad first impression to make on the First Years, in [Name]’s opinion.

🔒 Locked Paths

The DEMON CHILD Path.

Preview: If the Chosen Response was ‘Turn them down’.

The BROKEN FRIENDSHIPS Path.

Preview: If the Chosen Response was ‘Turn to Allistair for help’.

Note: The path unlocked by the readers will be a determining factor to [Name]’s personality traits, psyche, and relationships. Please be mindful of that.

#🐥 oh look! twst content… by me! #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #reader insert #interactive story #interactive fiction #fan fiction

[thepacifistrouter]

Chelley week, day 6: Heartbeat

Okay, I was excited about this day and category, it was the first one I actually did, but I didn't feel like I could convey it in drawings (or that it would take me too long if I did it with that), so I turned it into a short-fic I know it probably won't be well received for that reason, but it was something I really wanted to do, so… well, here it goes.

Thump

It was a cold, but mostly calm winter night, the wind was blowing outside Eaden's bakery, it wasn't especially strong, but it managed to generate howls and the trees to move enough for their wood to make a crackling sound from time to time.

The place, like most of the town, was mostly made of wood, but firmly and solidly built, even though until not long ago, they had to remodel a little inside, mostly the room in which its inhabitants slept - After all, since the second of them arrived, or rather, since they started sleeping together, it had become a necessity to make the ceiling a bit or two higher.

Yeah, a lot of changes had happened in that place, how it had turned from a place of tension, of banging on the wall and night terrors, to not only having an adequate roof so that anyone could stand without crashing or hitting or needing another bandage in his head, it also has a proper window, normal curtains, furniture, and decorations. It was a completely different place. Just like the people sleeping in it.

One of them, the one with the shortest stature, opens her eyes slightly, having woken up, with the weather - or rather the wind - being the main cause, along with a slight drop in temperature. When she was alone, she usually didn’t notice the presence of those stimuli due to being busy with her own nightmares, which either woke her up or kept her distracted. It could also happen that, if she manages to sleep with no nightmares or no dreaming at all, if she noticed them, than the sound plus the cold would bring back bad memories of unpleasant, cold places with hollow sounds on a smaller scale -usually that involved a short walk to the kitchen for a warm milk cup. and a re-reflection on her life and the events surrounding her until she could fall asleep again.

Things are different now. She had managed to get used to it, to feel those signals that reminded everyone that there was still a long time before winter left and spring take place, to stop associating every small unpleasant and cold noise with That place. But of course, as with any person, there could be exceptions, it could happen to anyone that the seasons could wake you up with the weather in the middle of the night, always something inopportune. The main difference was that, in the current time, she had other, new tools to deal with them and, her untold favourite, involved the person who slept a few centimetres from her.

A tall, too-tall, skinny, gawky blonde man who was fast asleep facing her. He was also the main person responsible for the vast majority of changes that both her house and her life had undergone. The mere presence of him there had been and had had a couple of changes.

Not that she was complaining at all, au contraire, having him there, next to her every night, was nothing less than welcome. In fact, at times like this, it was exactly what she needed.

Moving stealthily and carefully (never a problem for her) so that she becomes attached to him. That, at first instance, fixes the problem of the cold, probably for both of them, she knew he could have woken up at some point because of the same reason, neither of them were very fond of the cold after all- but of course, this was not just about the cold, if it was, being like that would have been enough or she could just have gotten up quickly and stealthily, as only she could, to get a blanket and come back and problem solved. No, this was different and required a small specification in her movements. And that was to put her head right at the height of his chest, so she could carefully rest her ear on it, close her eyes and just pay attention.

*Thump-thump*

She smiled.

There it was.

*Thump-thump*

The sound she was looking for.

*Thump-thump*

It wasn't a necessity, but it was something she liked to do from time to time, if the opportunity and circumstances presented themselves (like in this moment) - it was something more like an habit, perhaps? She didn't know, she just knew that for her it was almost like that feeling that comes from the sound of rain and a crackling fireplace on calm nights. Maybe even better. It was simply something that brought her peace.

And it wasn't just because of how she felt about him, although that was an important reason, but she knew it wasn't the only one. It was complicated, after all, it was, on a small scale, a vague reminder of everything they had experienced, but somehow... in a good way.

*Thump-thump*

It made her remember different related moments. How, the first time she saw him in a human form, that prototype avatar of solid light that they had made, was just that, an almost perfect, almost empty mirage, it wasn't real... it wasn't alive, Wheatley was the one that, while being awake, gave it life. Remembering, also, how, watching him asleep (or well, in sleep mode), if she hadn't known, and anyone who didn't know, she would have thought he was dead.

*Thump-thump*

Then, that time on the hill, when she leaned her face as she was doing now, but back then, there was nothing, just something similar to the noise of the LED light in a kitchen or the hard light bridges in That place. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling... even sad, it made her think about what they did to him, what they took from him and that his whole being, in fact, was actually in something not much bigger than a pen with lights and a lot of unnecessarily complicated Aperture technology.

*Thump-thump*

Even more, at this point, it was… almost hard to believe that he didn't always look like that. Human. Even though, he always acted like one. Who knows how long he was in his little spherical body. She was sure that even now he must feel, at least in part, as if he still is in some level. She knew that at least he still didn't stop completely feeling like a machine and she had her doubts than that would ever change - if it could, there was still plenty of time for that and it was fine, she didn't mind giving him time to adjust to things, it could be annoying, yes, but it was even sweet to see when he made progress on something, how happy he was and how, truly, he kept trying after failing and learned from what he did - achieved or not. Little by little he had begun to stop pretending so often that he knew or could do things that he really didn't, to quick so fast, and start to actually try, to practice and learn despite failing till he gets it and finally being able to do it. Frustration could still become an issue for him, depending on the situation, he could still seek responsibility or blame in others (or things) while failing - fortunately that was something that had also been slowly decreasing over time. Probably, knowing that no one would harm him or throw him up if he failed, specially not her, was a great help on his progress (Plus, the enthusiasm and shine in his eyes when he finally managed to do something well was priceless)

*Thump-thump*

Then, she also remembered the first time she heard that beat, that last time they stepped into That horrible place never to return. He was naked and soaked in a slimy, stinky, gross substance, but in that moment she felt such a relief to see him, she couldn't have cared less about any of it -he was there, he was alive and he seemed to be fine, that was all that mattered -she just needed to go check him and make sure of the “being fine” part. It was in the middle of a hug when she heard it. She was so excited to see him alive that she had overlooked it, distracted by so many emotions and sensations, but being who she was, it didn't take her long to react and, after a small check, It didn't take her long to solve the puzzle. That was not a mirage or an artificial body, it was his actual body, this was real. He had his human body back.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, at that moment there wasn't much time to process it, they were a little more worried about getting back to town all in one piece.

*Thump-thump*

Someone would think that after a couple of 101 lessons on being human and relearning how to use their organic body, everything should have gone fine, but the truth is that they would still have to go through one or two more big Aperture Science Labs headache, but at least this one wouldn't involve the "labs" part, so, by comparison, they weren't that big… but still.

*Thump-thump*

At first it was just a couple of colds, flu, stomach pains, allergies (luckily they taught him not to take too many medicines at the same time to get better sooner because it doesn't work like that), his forehead testing all the edges of 2 meters or less of the town. A lot of unpleasant stuff, but nothing particularly bad - who knows how many decades in suspended animation without even contact with air wreak havoc on anyone's immune system and physical condition -at least he managed to cover his mouth by reflex when sneezing or coughing... most of the time.

The real problem came later, a couple of months later and it started with what seemed to be another case of the flu, but accompanied by a lack of appetite and more and more noticeable fatigue, among other things. He was trying to hide the seriousness of the matter, trying to make it seem like just the flu, saying from time to time that he was starting to feel better and finding ways to make it seem that way. But there was no way to continue the attempt of a theatre once she saw him fall passed out, burning with fever while he tried to go down the stairs (luckily it was almost halfway). The scare plus her own instinct helped her react quickly enough and effectively to first check that there were no serious injuries and then go find help.

The details of what happened are long, complicated, almost worthy of an adventure, but at that moment, Chell could only especially remembered being there, in Dr. Dillon's guest/patient room, him asleep in the bed and her in a chair next to the bed. She went there when she could to check on his progress, changing wet towels and checking him, his temperature, his breathing...and his pulse. Since she checked him after the fall, she could feel how his heart took on such irregular rhythms, sometimes almost at the level of tachycardia... and sometimes so low... without a doubt they were days of worry and discomfort for everyone, including fear for them both. It was an absolute relief when things finally became normal and she could see him acting with the same energy as always, having regular breathing, and being like this, in that very moment, while she was listening to that sound in the rhythm it should.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, not all were bad memories, you could say that a third and final part of what makes this pleasant for her is what that sound transmits to her, his heartbeat could become as much or more communicative than his voice-which is saying a lot, especially on those... private occasions, planned or not. Like that first time, when she found him in the bathroom naked, confused and scared by a part of his own body's functioning that he knew nothing about, so she helped him to... clear up the misunderstanding… by using the empirical method.

She discovered 2 things that night: First, that she liked to feel how, at that moment, the most obvious part of his body was not the only one that showed emotion when they were that close, it was as if they had disconnected his mouth so they could say almost everything that needed to be said.

*Thump-thump*

Second thing was, deep down, she liked having that kind of control over him. Perhaps because he was someone so vulnerable and at the same time so paradoxically unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Having that level of control over him and the circumstances around at such an intimate level was an extremely satisfying delight, almost irresistible to her so, of course, when she managed to prepare, from time to time, very occasionally, she would gladly take advantage of her position. During those encounters, she even learned that there was difference when the heart races out of fear, out of happiness, or out of pleasure.

*Thump-thump*

And now this.

Moments like this, in some certain different way, also counts as a private, intimate moment, but instead of hot, they are warm.

These moments not only allow her to feel his more honest and vulnerable side, but also allows her herself to be openly vulnerable, knowing she would be safe by being it, even if it was just for a bit of a time.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

Someone could say, in summary, that these moments, taking the time to listen and/or feel carefully, from time to time, was something that, in some way, for her defined very well his presence in her life and himself, a reminder of what he went through - what they both went through to get here, of who he was and what she liked about him, his fragility, his spontaneity, and that strange paradoxical strength that he himself doesn't seem to realize, but it does seem to be based in that cheerful endless optimism. He made her feel warm inside and happy to have him there with her, alive and in peace. Maybe it wasn't all always joy and happy and fun, but right now, there was no way she could ever say that she regretted it.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

It didn't take long for her to begin to fall asleep again, without separating a single centimetre from his chest, from his heartbeat, as if it were a little coo just for her.

*Thump-thump*

Shortly before she completely falls back in the Morpheus arms, she gives herself the small luxury of carefully wrapping one of her arms around him.

*Thump-thump*

To her surprise, somehow he, unconsciously -because she was very sure he was still asleep- seemed to realize this and, in response, slowly and clumsily moved his own arm to lightly puts it around her in the same way.

After that slight initial surprise and a quick processing, she simply smiled - without moving from where she was, without taking her face off his chest, she closed her eyes again and, letting herself be carried away by the calm, but somehow cheerful way of his heartbeat, she finally fell asleep.

*Thump-thump*

#wheatley #portal #portal2 #chell #blue sky #chelley #waffleguppies #wafflestories #portal 2 #chelley week 2024 #day 6 #heartbeat

[chaoscheebs]

Consider: Seto Kaiba feels way more safe and comfortable curled up with Yugi in Yugi’s tiny-ass bed than in the far more spacious bed he has at home.

(On that same note, Seto still complains that Yugi needs a bigger bed.  Yugi’s like, “OK, and where am I going to put a bigger bed?” and gestures to the size of his bedroom.)

#yugioh #rivalshipping #chibi rambles #i dunno i just think it's fun to think seto's the one who stays over more than yugi staying over with him #(also lol their first time was absolutely in that tiny-ass bed) #seto lowkey just thinks about selling the big empty house and finding something cozier #nothing but bad memories in that place and all