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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 2 years

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E.T.: a deep-dive. because harry’s house made my brain go: here’s a link !! <3

look. i know this idea has reached some sort of shitpost meme level now (@bluewinnerangel) but lemme add to the pile and maybe idk spray perfume over the dumpster.

i heard "we're on bicycles, saying there's life out there" in daylight and then "you were riding your bike to the sound of 'it's no big deal', and you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels" in matilda and i was like ?? why all these flying bikes?? and then i thought flying bike -> E.T.

so i went and looked a little closer, you know. as i do best. we know harry spent a big chunk of lockdown watching docs and movies and listening to soundtracks. he references matilda, obviously, which is first and foremost a book, but def famous for being a movie from the 90s. and matilda doesn’t fly her bike so !! that’s my stream of consciousness for ya

steven spielberg made E.T., based on his experiences as a child. after his parents got divorced, he coped by having an imaginary alien friend. so, origin of the story: broken home. the family in the movie also features a single mom trying to balance work and being a mom for three kids, so that’s yk. a parallel to ppl we know

in the movie, E.T. is trapped on earth, forgotten by his fellow aliens bc they had to flee from the humans. he is then given a home by elliot, a boy who finds him in his backyard. from the start, they seem to have a very close connection. elliot is a bit of an outsider in his family, as well; bullied by his older brother and friends, and yk classically ignored just a little more as the middle child. sooooo another Peculiar Child story (a series of which matilda is a definite member).

some funny, some wholesome points/parallels in the movie:

"i don't like his feet" lmao i had to

the little sister dresses E.T. up as a lady and E.T. clearly loves it

for halloween, they dress E.T. up and that’s the only time he can leave the house // little freak ("did you dress up for halloween?”)

elliot riding his bike, carrying E.T. // the peculiar boy in adore you biking around with his fish

caring for E.T. brings elliot and his family closer, even the rest of the kids from town (ppl who earlier bullied elliot) cares if E.T. makes it or not // adore you

a definite theme of preventing beings from getting caught / setting them free:

elliot, freeing the frogs they’re trying to study in class

elliot doesn’t want E.T. to go home at first, saying “we could grow up together!” but learns he has to let him go home so E.T. can be healthy and happy // adore you

theme of going home / contacting home:

on the phone with his home // all of harry’s songs where he’s calling his lover in harry’s house

the government:

being monitored by authorities

the government’s desire to control E.T. // an authority’s desire to control the peculiar one. yk sth harry might be able to relate to idk

in the end, the parallel with the bikes really is: i wish i could lift off the ground, just like E.T., and avoid all obstacles. so that’s a bit </3 bc it’s a very real desire (if h mentions it in 2 songs on this album alone, plus:)

sott (song and mv): we got to get away, literally represented as From Earth

over the rainbow // bluebirds and flying (to space) in daylight

harry circling earth like a satellite

“don’t know where you’ll land when you fly”, loml

if i could fly (duh)

“so you wait for me in the sky”, golden

and the ending of the movie is E.T. flying away in his spaceship, leaving this in the sky. so you could say that E.T. is somewhere over the rainbow

#my posts #E.T.#look it's a pile of info i know #this is one of those cases where i needed to write it all down in one place so i could make sense of it and also let it go lmao #i need to see friends today i can't keep spiralling about E.T. and the peculiar kids and flying away #matilda #daylight #harry's house #parallels

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wurdulac · 8 months

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but you know what other game has very consistent politics. nwn2. where everyone was a libertarian and there was just so much jingoism.

#nwn2 #man. i was supposed to write down the thing where it falls so flat where it could draw a parallel between the ancient Illefarn #and the city of neverwinter itself... like you actually discover the dark underbelly of the city but literally nothing is done about it #if they actually pointed to the parallel between KC and the King of Shadows. it could have been an interesting game #as it is it's peculiar

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softcherubhips · 2 years

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Girl Crush cover -H. 🤝 Wet Dream cover -H.

#they're married your honor #loud loud loud #harry styles #harry covers #girl crush #little big town #wet dream #wet leg #rainbow baby #stay peculiar #banana nut muffin #hs parallels #bbc live lounge

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

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Offer me your flesh... Not like that

Yan Cultist + Forest Entity/Deity Reader [+18 mdni]

Warnings/Tags: Breeding, monster fucking but you are the monster, tentacle peen, slight size difference/kink, brief mentions of gore/blood but not related to the fucking dw

The watcher of the woods.

A creature known by many names for none of which it cared but remained its mantle to claim. Skin akin to aged bark; horns rooted from the base of its skull like the curving arches of branching trees - the beast towered over all sort of man and earned its title for its eyes. Rare were nights starless, but upon an eve without a single dot in the sky it was common to find them hiding out in the trees. As ancient stories foretold - it's said that on those days the guardian of the forest used all its strength even the light of the stars to lead lost souls home. Imposing as it may be, the creature was a peaceful giant, protecting its land and those who treated it in kind, but as legends of old often became lost in translation - it too fell to the hapless adulteration of time and unwavering, blind devotion.

The worship of humans was a peculiar mistress. Old as the soil itself, the watcher predated the existence of mortals in the region and civilization as a whole. When the founders of the town at the base of the hills culled its land to build the foundation their homes - the watcher taught them cultivate the furtile ground and keep peace. It consindered all who entered its lands as members of its flock - no matter how strange they may be.

For the majority, the humans adored their new guardian. The teachings of gods known before where easily tossed aside in favor of a new master. Caring as it may be- the watcher's fair intentions were mistrude as otherwise when it was found to take the bodies of those lost forever to the forest back to the mountains where it lived. It had seen the way humans stored their dead and wanted to honor their cultures as best it could. Its followers mistook its deeds as a call for sacrifice from the crop it had harvested - and who were they to deny their God.

Those who oppose and those who worked their entire lives towards the ultimate goal of being sacrifice to their God were the first to face death. Blood drained; bodies butchered and displayed on the forest floor like fine feasts. Their God was not pleased with their actions and was repulsed by the smell of human blood; diet consisting purely of what its land birthed and the occasional scraps left behind by the natural hunters of the woods.

The humans would sacrifice those worthy at mass and considered new loses to be god's will. It was seen as sacrilegious to return after a night lost in the woods. The watcher lost favor in their humans through these massacres- and the heart wrenching sobs of a lost hiker it had savecthroughly mislead in their worship and bestowed their false knowledge on new generations - but there was one thing they had gotten correct with their research and discoveries involving their lord.

A shift in behavior - marking the change between seasons summer and fall. The watcher's hardened shell withered and softened into thicker, mossy flesh; antlers curling twice as thick and pained whines the kind to send anguish into the hearts of all beings if not for the pleading moans and scents it gave off. The guardian longed for mate - just like every creature in its forest.

In true alignment with their predecessors, the new age failed to realize the correct way to approach their God in such a sensitive state accordingly. Bathing in the blood of the fallen and wandering naked through the wounds - it repulsed the creature so it fled into premature hibernation to rid itself of the aches and frustration. Doomed for entity - the only of its kind; the watcher suffered countless falls with release. It no longer desired the company of man yet yearned for embrace. Alone, wretched, miserable - the watcher imagined its remaining years trapped in endless parallel and pain... and yet as with the seasons-

All things change.

It happened as the trees were stripped of their bearings and nights grew fringed. A musk within range of the watcher's natural intensity wafted over the forest. The fresh dew of spring and the warmth of summer - two elements that brought the creature comfort in harrowing times. Following the scent, the lewd slick of flesh and muffled moans overlap - flooding the lesser god's loins with familiar ache and need.

The watcher tread out into the clearing to find a human perched beneath one of its trees - fingers at work between their legs and shirt tucked between their teeth. A circle of candles and incense surrounded them; a bed of leaves and spare blankets cushioning their body from the hard floor. The tee helped between their teeth was the same color as the moss encasing the local deity's body and the emblem of its horns. A ranger - one that bares resemblance to a face once riddled with fear; now barring the opposite emotion. Lowering the match the mortal's height, the watcher did as it does best - studying the human's acts of self pleasure with intent. Startled by a pitched whine, it's antlers knock against the trees as it lurches.

"You're finally here, huh? Kept me waiting."

The watcher reals as the ranger spreads their legs, fingers plunged deep as they wiggle their hips at the air.

"Don't be shy... We have a special connection you and I.... I'm talking to you."

With a soft chitter - you exit the trees. Stalking forward on all fours, you sniff at the human's arousal as your snout draws against their skin. Black tongue wagging, it sweeps their tender flesh pleased to find no traces of acidic blood and a hint of ripe fruits instead. Enthralled with their taste and scent, the fright as they bring a hand up to your face is enough to cause second retreat. They coo, swallowing the stimulation of being in their lord's presence, and reach out - free hand carding through their hair.

"Hey - hey, don't panic- You remember me, don't you? I was that hiker you saved a few summers back. I always thought the legends were bullshit, but I was still afraid of the unknown. It turned out to be beautiful - my soul mate. See this? I got it when I fell in the river and hit my head on the rocks."

A dated scar bleeds through their hairline. You snort, breath fanning their neck as you cage them to the trees with your larger body, awaiting their next move. Faith unwavering - their hands skim and carcass your torso, glinding through the mossy fur down to the build up of your tension. Teasing the sheath with their nimble digits, you shutter - legs parting as a tendril the color of the night sky and thick as the ranger's thigh unfurls from the slit. Quick to work, the human slides under you - both hands at the base of your appendage. You whine as their lips haul your girth in a trail of kisses - length traveling the side of their face as they reach your thigh.

"You must be in so much pain. So many years with everyone in town going about things the wrong way. It's crazy to think I'm the only one to have figured things out - but it just further proves we're meant to be. Don't worry - I'll take all of your loneliness and pain away."

You don't bother to piece together what their saying. The exhales between each word heightened your sensitive to their mouth riding up to the tip of your growth - lips wrestled slack by the weight pressed to them. You cushion their head and neck with one hand as you thrust, seeking the heat of their mouth. The tendril, slick as it may be - only hits quarter way before the human chokes; the convulsions of their throat drawing a pleased hum from your throat which drones into a concerned murr at the tears lacing their flashes. You pull free - bending down to lap at their face. The ranger's heart swells seeing the light of their god's eyes shine for them solely.

"Don't worry about me - I've prepped for this day since you sent me home. My body is a vessel for your desire - and our future seedlings."

Lost in translation - you get the general picture as they on their back, body displayed for your taking. Devotion engraved into their very being and supple flesh free of damage - this is all you've ever lusted for. The mortal body at your beck and call, captured in its purest beauty. You press forward - crying out in pure frustration and agony as your tendril glossing over its intended target. Rutting and huffing through desperate attempts - your follower guides through your eagerness and their own dire need, and angles themself properly beneath you - wind knocked from their lungs as you sink in at last.

Pushed to edge by every muscle contracting around you, and the sweet relief of finally, finally- obtaining an outlet for your insufferable heats - you howl in frenzied glee. Wasting no time, you start off at a brute pace - jowls snapping in rhythm to each slap of skin. Your follower mewls along with you, hands based on your torso - praying the entirety of the town below can hear your unity. Their stomach bulges with the outline of your tendril and they clench around you conjuring the swell of your young.

"Yes! Ah! My love - breed me! I've waited for this for so long. Take me as you. Give me your love, your young - anything, please!"

Their worship is cut short by the infiltration of your tongue down their throat. Choking as they did on your cock - their eyes dart back as you pin their knees to chest, steady on yours as you plow them into the makeshift bedding. The slick plap of their wetness dragging you back in and the suction of it drives you deeper with every grind. The lack of oxygen from your tongue altering the flood of air makes their muscles tighten further - ripping the first orgasm of the eve out of you as your talons pucker their flesh. Stilling momentarily - thoughts overload with the realization of your true purpose in this realm. Breeding every hole offered to you.

The smell of blood premonating your scents does little to waver the force and intensity of your release - years, decades of build up breaching as you slam against them - pursuing that increasing, staggering high. Your cum floods their hole - leaking around your cock and down their thighs. Rubbing your cheek against their head, you lazily fuck nearly every drop back into them as they twitch and spasm around you. The blessing of being the first real sacrifice to their God was tear inducing.

Your tongue pulls from their mouth, licking salty tears and saliva as apology for nearly asphyxiating them. Your follower gasps and pants, lips formed in conversation but missing the voice to speak. You slip out of them, fluids gushing from their stuffed hole. The sight causes another stir in your nether reigion. Picking them up like an oversized doll, you lean back against the tree as you lower them into your lap - this time being the one to guide your tendril into their greedy hole. Head rolling back, a hand shoots out to grab your horns as you rock upwards into them. Pleasure rocks your very core as they hold onto your sensitive mounts, hands climbing with each bounce. Your cock throbs as they eventually catch on and pour the remainder of their strength into rubbing every curve and bump of your antlers.

Mouth agap - the skin of their shoulder catches in your teeth. Having lost all restraint and repulsion in the stench you bite down, marking as they likely desired. An assumption proven seconds later as a scream tears out of them, body stuttering as they cum around your appendage. Your hand pads their stomach, adding surface for you to better fuck your squirming length into them. You take both of their wrists into your hands - slamming them back on your cock as you finish at the end of their peak - overestimating their shot senses as your length spasms against their fleshy walls. More of your spend leaks from them as you pull out which they shove back as you slump against the ground still cradling them in your arms. The ranger attacks your jaw and chest in kisses, warming your tendril with their thighs and rubbing their own sex against it. Your eyelids fall heavy, twinkling lights dimming. The ranger nestles into your chest - fatigue on the horizon but job far from complete.

"We'll be amazing parents someday. I'm so happy you chose me. Rest now - I'll take care of everything else from here on. Sweet dreams, Dear~"

A new scent - the smell of pine needdles in the winter. Winter - the season when you fell into a deep sleep."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere blurb #tw yandere #yandere smut #monster reader #god reader #yandere drabble #yandere imagines

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hastyprovocateur · 2 months

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Mizu, Akemi, Brothels & Bedrooms

Mizu and Akemi's approach to sex (so far) has been very inverse. For Mizu, sex is intimate, almost sacred to the point of inaccessibility. Her pretending to be a man has compelled her far from intimacy in order to protect herself and her secret. On the rare occasion when she does engage in physical relations during her shortlived marriage, she engages in it furtively. She's shy, sweet and submissive. She has very little to no experience and while she enjoys it, she doesn't appear to demand to be in a position of authority while it ensues. She's happy to let go of the reins and allow herself to put in a safe space. Her voice pitches and she doesn't fight to maintain any composure.

Mizu isn't exactly averse to sex. After losing mama and killing Mikio, Mizu just closed herself to the possibility of intimacy. She doesn't intend to romantically engage with anyone or be as intimate with anyone as revenge has become her priority. She now dismisses sex, considering it an act that is void of art or tact. Base. Something that decentres the spirit. Dare I say, she sees it as a facade after Mikio. An act that misguides the participants to consider their bond deeper than it really is. It is parallel to Akemi's first time, where both her and Taigen seem to be proccupied with other concerns, quickly distancing from each other after an act that most would consider to be a paramount of bonding between lovers.

Regardless, Mizu's resolutions haven't killed her intrigue for "peculiarities" as evident in her stint at Madam Kaji's where she (despite her dismissive facade) peers into the windows of pleasure, exploring sutras, bondage and threesomes. With the masculine avatar she's donned on her path of revenge, even if Mizu's resolve grows shaky, she's restricted by the complications that should arise if she goes down the path of any intimacy. Giving her more walls to break through and more walls for any potential lovers to break through as well to get to her tender breast.

In terms of general pleasure, Mizu is shown to be extemely physical and playful. She gets riled over armed combat, her face flush and full of love. To whoever she feels safe and happy with, she gives her all. Whether in bed or otherwise, she'll surrender her body and her sword. Aside from fighting, Mizu is passionate about different forms of art, especially sword making and other creative arts like music. You can call her... cutely nerdy (?) in the sense of her keen understanding of iron work, different fighting techniques, blade strikes, all of which she knows by heart. It can be imagined that a sure way to catch her whims would be to spark conversations about artistry in general.

Akemi, on the other hand, intends all her sexual overtures to have a fixed purpose. She's written as a character who prepares intensely for her ambitions. We see her revising a written speech before arguing her bit to her father, switching to appeasing to his fatherly side by playing the "naive daughter" to get him to agree with her and Taigen's engagement. In ep 4 we see her curating an impish, adulant image of an innocuous sex worker before making Mizu's acquaintance, intending to lower her guard enough to subdue her and bring her to Taigen. She finally goes on imbibe the perfect subservient, loving wife to finesse Takayoshi and thereby solidify her say among other exponents in the Shogun's family.

Her mind is like a self gearing machine in terms of playing pieces to give herself a fighting chance. Sex is a part of this rematch. With sex as a means, it's arguable if she genuinely feels pleasure in the process but she ensures that she's able to pleasure her partners to an end that serves her. With men, it's always about massaging their ego. With Taigen, Akemi initiates sex to be able to coax him into focusing on her and saving their engagement instead of letting him fixate on his recent loss of his hair and honour. In the brothel, she regales Watari, a man who's never won a fair fight, and has become impotent due to his weight, by appealing to his poetic side and using it to flatter him to ejaculation. With Takayoshi, a man subdued by his mother for his stutter and meek ways, Akemi admits to finding his speech impediment endearing, apologising profusely to resume her submissive position as his wife and proceeds to consummate their marriage while encouraging him to recite poetry.

Like Mizu, Akemi's curious about sex in itself and went against her teacher's wishes to explore erotic literature. She's well versed with sexually coloured poetry and easily weaves sex into conversation, using it to talk her partners to orgasm. She has a varied understanding of poetry, an art she uses as a weapon to flatter men, citing Shōtetsu, Minamoto no Shigeyuki and her favorite, Ono no Komachi. A waka poetess writing chiefly in matters of melancholy and passionate love. She's also skilled in all manner of art that are intrinsically ornate but are notorious for being feminine or are used to entertain men such as poetry, koto playing, dancing and calligraphy. An average man would deem such arts lowly but he doesn't consider that such arts can be used to easily lower his guard to his very vanquish without him ever doubting that there was even a ploy in the first place. Akemi wields these talents to her advantage. Sex and fine arts are only a few of the weapons in her arsenal.

Strangely enough, it's not exactly touched upon what Akemi actually finds desirable outside of what she must do to get her way. It can be guessed that she'd be disarmed by anyone who lasers through her simpering girly act, someone who can be valiant and honourable, someone who doesn't weigh virtue and strength through the prejudice of gender, someone who's able to value her in all her intricacies instead of pushing her to be a proper wife or improper whore.

Likewise, I can imagine Mizu wanting the same degree of acceptance. Someone who nurtures her feminine side without alienating her masculinity. Someone who doesn't demonise her appearance or consider her an anomalous product of two races. Her ideal type hasn't been detailed but her bar was really low. She didn't care about Mikio's age or social status or wealth. Akemi was also shown to having a narrow criteria for marriage, preferring Taigen solely because marrying him meant staying in Kyoto, near home. For both Taigen and Mikio, they benefitted from the unhinged cruelty other men could afford, appearing decent by comparison because they did the bare minimum of asking for consent.

It is still very nascent as to what Akemi and Mizu truly desire. Mainly because there hasn't been much room for individual desires. Akemi was already "past her prime" and evading marriage was no option as it was a decision sealed in stone by a girl's father the moment she hit puberty. For a time where women had little say in who they married, managing to get engaged to Taigen was a feat in itself. Her attempts to escape the arranged marriage with the Shogun's son was rendered fruitless by Taigen, Seki and in great part, Mizu. Akemi finally embraced her new married life, making peace with fighting within her means instead of trying to run away from them. This leaves a lot of room for what she'd eventually want for herself in the future. We know a part of her wished to leave with/without Taigen to live on a farm in Kokura but she's still too early in her journey of knowing exactly what she wants but she's constantly figuring things out.

Similarly, Mizu didn't have a say in her former marriage either but she was ready for the obligations it would impose on her, aware that she'd be compelled to conceal a part of her that men wouldn't welcome in their wives. Her masculine side that is capable of fighting like a samurai. Her sword of a soul. With her sworn revenge, aversion to all forms of intimacy and commitment to playing the part of a man, Mizu has become a vessel for all the ill will, prejudice and poor decisions men imposed on her. She doesn't have the liberty to bare herself and engage in fulfilling her desire as she's discovered to like it but the more characters she interacts with, we as audiences can observe seismic shifts in her perception of herself through the people she meets. These experiences serve as guiding lines for developing future desire. Of independent choice.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #bes akemi #blue eyed samurai #blue eye samurai akemi #blue eye samurai analysis #netflix bes #netflix blue eye samurai #bes netflix #mizu #akemi itoh #akemi ito #mizu akemi

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weshallc · 4 months

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Call the Midwife: Peculiar Parallels.

Series 4 Ep 6

Series 12 CS

#call the midwife #peculiar parallels #sister julienne keeping everyone tidy

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derfpossessions · 11 months

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Rented You Out - Part 1

Ever tried on a suit? Perhaps borrowed someone else's? Or you could've gotten it from a Suit Rental? Well let me tell you about a story of a man, whose body LITERALLY got rented out. So grab your ☕️, grab your 😸, because it's about to get WILD from here, well at least for our main boy.

Meet Denholm Gauthier, the 18-year old boy in 12th Grade, ready to graduate in a few months, but still have no decisions towards what to do in his life. He is a well-loved and kind student at his high school, and as the leader of the Football team and President of the Student Council, oh he's got it all. Plus, he's the class Valedictorian. So why is he such in a lost position? He had always seeked purpose in his life, though no one seemed to give him a damn since he's literally a privileged, handsome white dude. Everyone's got their own shit. To everyone's surprise, Denholm once mentioned that he didn’t want his life AT ALL, to which everyone got outraged about, saying “WHY NOT?!?”. Well, with this story unfolding, I guess I can say he found his purpose.

Chapter 1: Kidnapped

And so we begin. It was psychology class and the classroom was having a heated debate about the human mind and body. It escalated between the nerds too much that a fight could’ve broke out but thanks to Denholm it was de-escalated fast.

“It’s fine Mr Watkins, this topic was a bit controversial if I’m going to be honest with you. But I believe that our human minds are its own unique ways, and one could never be another person.”, he stated as he made the others calm down.

“Well that’s what you thought.” The quiet kid said. His name was Stanley. He’s the kid that sits in so much envy while watching Denholm rise up in the podium of popularity. He was always jealous of him. He wanted to live like him. Heck, he wanted to be him.

“What was that bro?” Denholm politely asked. Stanley didn’t replied, so Denholm’s just shrugged it off and packed his bag.

Lunchtime was up, and Denholm ate with Markus, who’s his childhood and best friend. Denholm long knew then that Markus likes other men, but Markus never really showed him that he wanted Denholm to be more than friends. Though with that said, Denholm is a very liberal person, and of course, a straight ally, which is not what Markus wanted but more than enough to keep them as friends.

“Hey bro! What’s up?” Denholm excitingly said to Markus.

“Nothing much, just tired of life as always.” Markus said.

“Why’s that so? You have friends and family!” Denholm replied.

“Well I don’t want this life. So stressful and so pressured. I wish I could be just as charismatic and attractive and NORMAL as YOUR life!” Markus said with a raising voice.

“Wha… is that what you feel about my life?” Denholm was shocked. Markus raised his voice on him again, which he typically does to cover his feelings of desire towards him. It’s really hard for a gay man like Markus to try and not fall face flat with his feelings towards straight boy hottie Denholm.

“You know my life isn’t easy too. I wish I could live as simpler as any other person.” Denholm sighed.

“Oh I’m sorry..” , Markus said. Denholm hugged him, and so the feelings came in again. Markus’ manhood was rising a little bit high that time, but not too high for Denholm to notice. It was almost like Markus wanted to kiss him on the spot, but he didn’t forgot his dignity and so he didn’t do it.

There was a student council meeting afterschool, so Denholm had to leave the last period early. While walking down the hallway, he saw a black van parallel parking in the lot. It was quite peculiar to see a car parking at that time. He wanted to investigate it but was running late for the meeting, so he ignored it.

The meeting had finally ended. Denholm separated with his classmates because his locker was at the other exit of the school, and now, he’s secured from the hands of evil. “I love you.”, said by Denholm to his girlfriend as he leaves the school through the back exit. As he was leaving, the black van he suspected earlier, was open. He was grabbed by two men wearing balaclavas and shoved him into the backseat.

Denholm tried to talk but his voice was muffled caused by the tape on his mouth. A silhouette of a teenager was seen from the car mirror, but that teenager quickly turned it away to get prevented from being seen. Helpless, Denholm tried everything he can to get unleashed, but it was no use. The two men started injecting something on his back, it wasn’t a syringe, rather a sharp wired material that penetrated his spine, and later his whole body. As he was agonizing in pain, the kid from the front seat was giggling, enticed to see the pain Denholm was going through. They then started to dig down his back even further, almost as if they were cutting it wide open like a zipper. As he can no longer tolerate the pain, Denholm passed out from exhaustion.

Chapter 2: I Am My Bestie

Nightfall came, and Denholm’s parents were very worried. His girlfriend along with his father seeked help from the police, to which they saw the van that took him away. Markus, who thought that the men might have put Denholm captive at school, drove straight there during the night.

To by his surprise, he saw Denholm lying down in the locker room. He screamed, “DENHOLM!!” As he tried waking him up. He tried to lift his body upwards but noticed something strange. His body was a little lightweight.. almost hollow.

As Markus went to see Denholm’s face, his eyes looked… empty. Something wasn’t right. It only took a matter of time until he discovered that Denholm had a huge rip on his back, with a little switch attached to his neck. Markus kept shrugging Denholm to awake him but there was no use. He then examined the rip, and accidentally opened it, which revealed Denholm’s insides with literally nothing in it. Just a hollow mold.

“My friend’s… a bodysuit?!?!?” Markus started to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he would tell to Denholm’s parents. So he kept trying to wake Denholm up, but he’s no longer there. There was only one choice. If Denholm WAS an empty suit for someone to wear, then someone must wear him for the meantime, and who would that be none other than Markus. “I’m so sorry, I love you.” Markus started to tear up. He then stripped off his clothes. He started to insert his legs and feet into Denholm’s empty body. Markus was a bit larger than Denholm’s so it was a tight fit. the warmness of the insides then slowly binded Markus’ legs onto his. There was no turning back. Next, he put on the torso, and leaned Denholm’s head forward for now. It was almost complete. The last thing to do is to put on the head. As Markus was putting Denholm’s face like a mask, it frightened him too much that he started suffocating. In the outside it looked like an expressionless Denholm but you can hear Markus grasping for air. He eventually fell to the groubd and passed out.

The next time Markus woke up, he was at the floor. His body was glistening with sweat, or should I say, Denholm’s body. He tried to get and up and looked around, then exhaled to see that he can breathe again. His breath smelled like Denholm’s, which shocked him a lot. He paused and saw the mirror, with Denholm reflecting back to him. “De..Denholm??”, Markus said. The voice still sounded like Markus wearing a mask, which was muffled, so Markus adjusted Denholm’s face to fit his even more. And so the face finally locked in. “Denholm??” He said again. This time the voice sounded EXACTLY like Denholm. He started to rub his new wavy hair, and touch his new skin in his face. He also noticed his eyes even changed. Rubbing it through, he no longer has curly hair or dark skin, and his smell noticeably also disappeared, revealing a musky, bold smell from Denholm.

He admired Denholm’s hair, torso, biceps, and stroked his 6.8-inch dick. He then started putting on his clothes, and covered up the switch with a bandage. He looked at the mirror again and said, “Sorry Denholm, baby, but I need to drive you for now.” and kissed goodbye to his reflection in the mirror.

Now that Markus holds Denholm’s life, it was time to tell the news to Denholm’s family. Going home a bit excited, he rushed into Denholm’s house where a worried mother and father rushed in to receive him in open arms. “We missed you so much honey!”, Marta said to her “son” while embracing him. Markus felt a wholesome rather never-before feeling at that moment, as his parents were divorced and was put into care by his evil grandparents. This experience has become a chance for Markus to feel the life he deserved to have: a loving family, popular, charming, spoiled, everything that he ever dreamed of. Besides his sexual desires in the love of his life’s body, it was a chance for him to enjoy a new life of his own.

Chapter 3: Denholm Slayy

Morning came and Markus woke up refreshed, and opened his phone to see that he still has Denholm’s face while looking at the front camera. “Good morning, babe”, Markus started teasing himself. Suddenly something raised from under the blankets. Markus felt aroused by Denholm’s morning look so much that he decided to have a little bit of fun before getting through his day.

He let out a quick moan as he started grabbing onto Denholm’s elastic manhood. And there he unleashed loads and loads of cum which splashed through the whole bedroom. He didn’t even gave a damn into how he’s gonna clean all that mess. Then he admired himself in the mirror then started kissing it. “Oh I wish you were fucking me like this baby. Such a slay”, Markus groaned as he breathed in great intervals. He was having the time of his life.

“Babe??? Babee, I came to pick you up!” that was Paula, Denholm’s girlfriend, picking him up to go to school. Markus got alarmed by this. How was he supposed to clean all that cum on the wall? He quickly got up from the bed and took a dirty shirt from the laundry to wipe off all the stains from the walls and floors. Then he put on a shirt before opening the door. “Babe! What took you so long?? Also why are you not dressed yet we’re already late!” Paula said. “Sorry babe, got a bit hazy from last night that’s all.” Markus replied. “Well if you want to talk about it, we can spend the day together”, said Paula as she seductively touches Denholm’s cheeks. “No it’s alright, besides you have a test today and we must put our studies first right?”, Markus said while feeling anxious. “Ok! I’ll wait for you downstairs while you get ready.” Paula replied.

“Babe babe… Babe my ASS.” Markus side-eyes Paula as she left. “You know Denholm, you don’t deserve this annoying slut!” Markus said while berating Denholm’s reflection in the mirror. “This is why I’m GAY! UGH! If only you were mine… But for now, I am you. I will make the most of it.” Markus said while getting dressed. He put on a new bad boy look for Denholm, compared to the plain shirts that Denholm used to pull off with. Markus did a grin in the mirror as he admired his ideal look for Denholm.

“Oh daddy, you’re really such a fine person. I hope we get to bond more like this again.” Markus sighed. He then headed off to school with Paula.

———

It was now the afternoon. No one has seemed to have noticed that Denholm was being controlled by another person, as Markus has studied every single inch of how Denholm moves and speaks, which counts to the amount of obsession he has towards his homie. But there was one person that wasn’t convinced by the act though. While walking down the street, Paula confronted Denholm/Markus. “Babe, is everything alright? You seem distant.. detached today…”. Markus started to get nervous again, not knowing what details to say to her. “Babe its nothing.. look, I’ll head home now. Maybe I just needed a rest.” He replied.

Markus was finally back at Denholm’s room. It was now late at night. He took off his clothes and decided to lie down. “Maybe I should… do it again..” As Markus tried to stand up, suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was suffocating through latex. He then started gagging until he choked. It was the suit. He tried leaning on to something, but eventually the sweat that accumulated the suit made him trip down and struggle to get up. It felt like he was about to die, something was crushing him from the inside. Desperate, he tried unzipping off from the suit, which worked perfectly well. Markus finally got out of Denholm again, after over a day of using him. Both of them were covered in sweat, with Markus hyperventilating as he stared at Denholm’s lifeless body.

#male body possession #male bodysuit #male meatsuit #meatsuit #bodysuit #mtm swap #body swap #body switch #male body switch

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drconstellation · 25 days

Text

Aziraphale-Beelzebub Parallels

Aziraphale's Edinburgh Journey: Part 2

I've already written a series on how Crowley and Gabriel act as parallels and foils to each other in S2. Their other halves - their partners - also act as each other's parallels. I mentioned this briefly in the second post in that series, but here we need to expand on this.

We also need to talk about Maggie.

I think most people identify that there is good case for a many parallels between Aziraphale and Maggie as well. But when you consider Aziraphale-Beelzebub-Maggie together in a character triangle, Maggie suddenly starts to make a lot more sense. And I believe there is one more peculiar element thrown in that she is reflecting back to us as well about Aziraphale that has made her particularly hard to understand on top of all that.

But let's look at the Aziraphale-Beelzebub related parallels first.

They hold the highest ranking position

Beezlebub holds the highest ranking position in Hell under Satan, as the Grand Duke. They leave a vacancy at the end of the series, that we are yet to see filled.

For most of S2 the Supreme Archangel is missing - and it is only right at the end that we see Aziraphale step up and accept the offered role.

Two things to mention here:

One might argue that the Metatron is higher in ranking than the Supreme Archangel, but for purposes of this discussion he doesn't seem to have much to do with the day-to-day running of things like the Supreme Archangel would. Gabriel was also the one who appeared on the tarmac at Tadfield Airbase opposite Beelzebub when things weren't going to plan in S1.

Secondly, this is where I would like to start introducing the concept that we are being shown Aziraphale's future story in S2. Such as Aziraphale's future role as Supreme Archangel, however long he holds on to it.

I don't know how difficult it will be to demonstrate this as we go along from here, but I'm going to try and point out places where I think we are being shown glimpses of the future - foreshadowing - and a lot of them come through Maggie. Not all, though, there are exceptions, but we'll discuss them in due course. Such as in the next parallel.

They need words of affirmation

Crowley isn't the most loquacious character but he's not shy of boosting his angel's ego when it's needed. Whether it's encouraging Aziraphale to go big on stage in 1941 or supporting his detective efforts in Edinburgh Crowley is still going to put in a good word or two for Aziraphale's sake.

AZIRAPHALE: [over phone]: I think I've found some clues. And do you remember the statue of Gabriel in the graveyard in Edinburgh? I'm looking at it now. CROWLEY: Mmm, good job. AZIRAPHALE: Oh, do you really think so?

We know Beelzebub needs words of affirmation as well because they ask Demon Josh this:

BEELZEBUB: Do you ever think, wouldn't it just be nice if someone told you what a good job you're doing? DEMON JOSH: In hell? BEELZEBUB: Yeah.

Hang on, just a minute...Demon Josh...?

The demon who appears to be acting as the Personal Assistant/Secretary to the Grand Duke of Hell?

There is an old thread that points out that Greasy Johnson's name is basically another form of Jesus Christ. The TL:DR version is that Joshua aka Oily Josh is another form of Jesus.

So Beelzebub has Demon Jesus as her assistant.

Remember I was trying to tell you we are seeing future echoes of Aziraphale's story in S3 here? Jesus as the right hand of the Supreme Archangel, perhaps?

They give gifts

A S1 crossover, Beelzebub gives Gabriel the Tardis-like fly storage container, and Aziraphale gives Crowley the thermos of holy water in 1967 to stop the crazy caper he was planning to steal some. Both acts were done unprompted at the time.

They enjoy music

We've seen Aziraphale with his phonograph in action several times, and in S2E1 we see him in the midst of listening to the Shostakovitch records he got from Maggie when the arrival of Gabriel interrupts him.

We learn Beelzebub also has an ear for a good tune when they mention they like the song they hear in the American bar during the recap scenes of their meetings with Gabriel in S2E6.

They make an offer of "betterment" to Crowley

Beelzebub's offer to Crowley that he could be a Duke of Hell if he finds Gabriel for them, all while he is lounging across the two horned thrones in S2E1, is widely seen as a prominent piece of foreshadowing for S3.

Really, the only question should be is will that be just a plain Duke or will he somehow end up in the Grand Duke of Hell position opposite of Aziraphale?

Aziraphale also made an offer to Crowley - to restore him to angelic status.

At the time, neither offer was accepted with any enthusiasm - especially the latter.

They have a date at Gabriel's statue

I have pointed out elsewhere that this is a triple-parallel with a shot from Before the Beginning, but then I remembered that the parallel with Aziraphale looking jealously at angel!Crowley was written after this date pair with Gabriel's statue.

I intend to talk about the significance of the statue in Part 4: Judgement Day, as it makes a bridge between all three seasons and it needs some thorough and lengthy discussion around it.

They go to the pub

This is another triple-parallel between the two pairs. (I think @kayleefansposts first brought this up but I can't find the post it comes from now, even though it wasn't that long ago.)

First, they both meet in a cafe:

Then they meet in a pub:

And lastly, they meet - well, lets say with alcohol on the table and an option of food?

Their partners make a reference to the absurd creativity of humanity

For some time I wondered why when Crowley came back from the pub with Aziraphale, he plucked the Jane Austen off the shelf and shouted that inane line at humanity: "You people, I will never get the hang of you lot."

Eventually I realized it was a parallel moment to when just before Gabriel miracles the jukebox in the Resurrectionist to play Every Day the first time.

GABRIEL: What's that? BARTENDER: A classic 1960s jukebox. You don't see many of them these days. You just put your money in and tell it what you want to hear. GABRIEL: Oh… You people. Amazing. [hands over money] [miracles] Ha!

Both incidences are inspired by their partners - Aziraphale inspires Crowley to look for Austen's novels and Gabriel miracles the jukebox to play the music that Beelzebub likes.

Their partners accidentally leave them on their own

Crowley was only going to take the human shopkeepers to safety, then return - but he got sidetracked with Muriel all the way up to Heaven. Thinking he would be back soon, Aziraphale didn't plan very far ahead, and that eventually led to a problem - and a long, anxious wait for the demon's return.

On his way out of Heaven, Gabriel was on his way to Hell and Beelzebub - we presume. But as soon as he put himself in the fly, he forgot, and headed to the next most memorable location in his remaining working neurons, which happened to be on Earth. Beelzebub was left wondering where he was - and very alone down there in Hell while their minions were out searching for him. @noneorother shows what happens to the thrones while they wait.

So, about Maggie, then...

Understanding Aziraphale and Beelzebub as a parallel pair helps us to understand Maggie a little better, as Maggie is actually a mix of the two characters, reflecting both of them back at the same time. I think that is why she sometimes seems like an angel and a demon at the same time - because she actually is!

I believe this would also explain the "ugrency" spelling mistake, as well as putting an emphasis on the word urgency itself for us. What is becoming urgent?

For example, Maggie always wears a combination of colours from both characters. Here we can Maggie is wearing Beelzebub's signature colours of orange and light blue, but with a white background as the angelic component.

At the ball, she wears a blue blouse - blue is a colour associated with Heaven - but its a dark, demonic shade of blue.

She tries to give a gift to Nina, that doesn't quite work, but the thought and effort is there. She's very forgiving. And she says she says she'll still be there when Nina is ready to start seeing her again; she's reflecting the future Aziraphale to us.

She doesn't want to leave the scene of danger with Crowley when its offered (sounds familiar, doesn't it? Let's go to Alpha Centauri - No! I Can't!)

She's done with being scared, she's ready to stand up and be brave and fight.

She doesn't want to leave Aziraphale on his own (even though Aziraphale still has faith Crowley will turn up any minute now and have a plan - !!) She comes up with ideas on how to fight back. This is someone who steps forward and takes control. These all look like future echoes and set-ups for parallels in S3 to me.

There's another line that no one ever talks about that I've always thought was a foreshadowing line that Crowley says to Nina:

NINA: He's never hosted a meeting, ever. Why the change of heart? CROWLEY: He's unpredictable. He's discovered his civic obligations.

The parallel to this comes from Maggie, when Crowley goes to tell her its time for the meeting/Ball, she says she never misses a meeting. If that's not part of fulfilling your "civic obligations" I don't know what is.

If there was one aspect of Beelzebub I would perhaps just mention here briefly, but not discussing at length because I want to do it elsewhere again as well, is that they twice show restraint of their power and authority - they don't pull Crowley in for punishment as a traitor, even though they could (they pulled him down to Hell for a chat pretty easily) and they don't bother to rip out Demon Josh's tongue and send him to the dung heaps that day for being talkative and annoying, even though we get the impression it happens on a regular basis. In contrast, Aziraphale and Maggie both step up a bit and take some authority on themselves towards the end.

The lists above are not exhaustive of all the parallels between the three characters, but I hope it helps to get you started in thinking about them in a different way to how you might have been.

Next we try to tie the past<-present->future parallels together as we start getting our hands dirty.

The other posts in this series can be found here:

Part 1: Detective Aziraphale Part 3: Stocktaking in the Basement Part 4: Judgement Day Part 5: I Know Where I'm Going

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #beelzebub #maggie #demon josh #duke of hell crowley #oily josh #supreme archangel aziraphale #you people #i wont leave you on your own #discovering your civic duties #staying behind to die bravely #he's unpredictable

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sgiandubh · 2 months

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To be a fly on the wall in that room. What could he possibly be saying to her to get her to laugh like that? As per usual when the camera is focused on Sam's face but he's focused on Cait's, you can see how much he's in love with her.

Dear Fly On The Wall Anon,

That's their secret and we are not Marple, to peer into people's dishes at the restaurant. We're proud shippers and we are much better than this.

I can only imagine he was telling her something #silly and sweet, after all, he is her 'ridiculous human being', isn't he? Describe and discuss, in parallel, the semantics of her rapport to McInsipid: 'shy'. That's all - this is how you excuse a child who wouldn't say hello to Aunt Edna and her moustache, but this is not how you'd talk about Someone. You'd be a bit embarrassed, for sure, but you'd have to put on a brave face and counter the bad impression.

If you'd ask me about a certain Someone, I would gladly tell you how flabbergasted I am by his shocking mind, by his ability to bargain in Arabic at the Khan el-Khalili bazaar, in Cairo, by the way he managed to make me (mildly) interested in somebody as dull as Quevedo and by the very peculiar way he did change me forever. And most of all, I would tell you, Anon, about the way this guy makes me laugh and about how I could sometimes staple things into him and about how I knew I was utterly fucked and revoltingly happy the very moment, the very first damn moment.

When I see that smile of hers, I don't need more. I know. And so do you, most probably. And this is all that matters, because this is all that remains.

Here's another one. @thefrsers posted it already (and all credit goes to her, because she found most of these pics first!). But I don't really care:

#anon #shitshow

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lunarw0rks · 7 months

Text

Old Bones | Epilogue

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): mild angst & language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: The long-procrastinated final chapter of this series. Thank you for all the patience and support, for those who wanted this resolution.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˖⁺‧₊˚ ask box ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Epilogue

It wasn’t paradise. It wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t an excursion.

But it was all there, right before your eyes. The void of civilization — the tranquility of nature; both cruel and unrelenting, yet the closest to nirvana a human eye can see. The images you viewed through a screen were nowhere near as breathtaking as the sight in front of you.

The quaint lake house was nestled within a dense forest, the trees caked in bitter frost that traveled its way to your warm and exposed flesh. Then there was the lake, the breathtaking centerpiece in your irises. Shimmering hues of aquamarine and sage, swashing and dribbling across the rocky shore with every pass of its mellow waves. The body of water stretched for miles, farther than your eye could see. It was trees, dirt, moss, the lake, and the azure sky encasing it all.

This is what you needed, what you craved whilst cooped up in your torn-up residence. Not solitude from fleeing, not this time. Voluntary isolation was all it was in its purest, most natural form. Though you weren’t alone on this getaway, you wasted hours gazing at the unparalleled allure of the wilderness.

You had no ties anymore. No thorned ring on your left hand, no financial strain keeping you overworked until a hopeless retirement. Freedom was the newest taste on the tip of your tongue, passionate and liberating. Most significantly, Simon found a close second on that list of novel freedoms.

The lakehouse itself is charming; too charming for this type of funereal retreat.

Updated, almost completely modernized on the inside with spendy furniture and new fixtures. The wooden exterior that stretches to the inside is its only peculiarity, aside from the backwoods you’re staring at. Stained with warm, earthy tones that have weathered for who knows how long. Whoever renovated the land must’ve seen the same character in it that you did — how its very appearance hints at an enduring history with the land.

On the wooden porch, you nursed a mug and maintained your deliberating gaze. Behind you, the screen door creaked open, “y’ alright? Bloody freezing out here.” Simon spoke, and you turned around with a disconcerted jerk. In truth, you had forgotten how long it’d been, and time had escaped you.

You had spaced his presence completely. Ironic, considering you were the one who urged him to accompany you. Although it was understandable, considering the burly man was as stealthy as a mouse.

“I’m okay.” You muted, giving him your best attempt at a smile. “Thank you, Si.” That was a new one. But it felt right when you said it.

His boots hit the wood with soft thumps as he approached, as quiet as a brute could be on a creaky deck. As the door closed behind him, the loose snow built up on the overhang scattered and fell. Simon dusted off the lounge chair parallel to you and seated himself, taking in the same sight you were currently. “Don’t know why you bother. The view is the same from the window.” You turn your head, spotting the natural bounce of his leg, as if he was always in a state of unrest.

You shrug your shoulders, unsure of the reason yourself, “guess I’m savoring it. Can’t stay here forever, can we?” He responds with a whispered scoff, showing his agreement. Isolation wasn’t what he wanted, despite how he loathed humanity.

He needed the sounds of the people, the city, to feel even an ounce of being a part of them. Whether he knew it or not, Simon himself wasn’t sure either. “Suppose not. It’s too… peaceful.” His speech wavered whilst looking for the right word.

“I think we deserve some peace.” You reply, despite the irony of all the blood and grief it took to get here.

Simon fell silent again, for several seconds. The hand on his thigh began twitching a bit, his fingers stimming in a patterned motion — the way they always did when he contemplated. You had been looking at the view again until his stillness was noticeable.

“You do, sweetheart.” He affirmed before you opened your mouth again, fingers going motionless with relief.

In your chest, you felt a tinge of resentment. Questions began to buzz again, pertaining to the twisted connection you two had gotten stuck in. What the hell were you doing? Where was this going? What did he want? All those pesky answers far, far away in the distance — with no promise of ever catching up with them.

But you felt it. Every atom and bit of what you had been through with him, and what it meant. It wasn’t analytical. It was human, this need to never part with him. To think, when this all began, you envisioned a life of recluse and romantic aversion until your wrinkled body went cold.

You weren’t corrupted, or if you were, it didn’t trouble him. For that, you were plunged into the constant unease of feelings. It was the closest experience to hell on Earth; being in love with him felt worse than fearing the man you thought you were.

“What do you want? After this?” You forced out the words, despite not wishing to speak another to him. It wasn’t a series of questions — they were accusations. Perhaps pushing him out would be better than letting him in, but that didn’t seem so easy. Your heart couldn’t differentiate love and hate; they were synonymous.

The change in tone didn’t phase him. It couldn’t, it was part of the bargain, and he knew it. “Don’t know.” He huffed, standing up from his chair with a grunt.

You weren’t satisfied with the answer. How could you be? Two words? There weren’t enough in all the languages to express how you felt. The mug in your hands was set on the outdoor table, followed by a shuffle of your footing.

Now, you stood in front of him with furrowed brows. “You don’t know? So, what? I go back to the city, live in that damn house, and forget everything you did for me?”

“If that’s what you want.” Simon unquestioned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket. His nonchalance was going to be the death of you.

You rubbed your temple and let out a hefty sigh, expecting to see him gone when you looked up again. He wasn’t; he was still there, a doleful demeanor written all over him. “What does that mean, Simon? You, wandering around the city until you get yourself killed? I don’t want to forget you or remember you that way.”

“Then don’t.” He snapped, yet didn’t take on a stance of annoyance. “You want me in the bloody city with you? I’ll go. You want me to piss off? Say the words.” Your mouth hung open slightly, lips wavering as you sputtered.

His brows furrowed, the same as yours, but his feelings were different. It wasn’t a mix of love and hate; it was yearning. A complex, agonizing yearning that he had ceased in fighting. “I hate the bloody city, but I don’t hate you.” Simon added, sending the conversation into silence again. For him, it was the closest you’d get to those three words. Though, they might as well have had the same meaning.

Instead of retorting, your tense shoulders relaxed, as did your parted lips. You finally had your answer — still complicated — but an answer. It was the future, the path you knew you were coming back home on.

To be followed back into the city, having another half to fill the empty space of the lonely house. And how it’d eventually be furnished to your liking, dazzled with the selections you’d circled in the catalog. Put together and posed by Simon himself, and thanked with a kiss. Breaking in the fireplace, spending holidays as if they weren’t holidays at all, preventing any reminder of the sour memories you both had.

The chest you rest your head on, steady and synced with the putter of your heart. The organ isn’t healed, forever cracked and pumping to his rhythm. The hand resting on your shoulder, scarred and twitching while he contemplates what you’ll have for dinner. His pressing thoughts are trivial, coming a long way from war and life-or-death.

Of all the lives impacted by those hands, the one he’d saved mattered most.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme @tooruen @cran-berry-vodka @arctichotch @neadivana

#mw2 #call of duty #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 x reader

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aeneaans · 7 months

Text

second chances

synopsis: after 3 years, diluc finally returns to mondstadt.

word count: 608

c/w: angst sorta… hurt/comfort

a/n: yet another repost from ao3 because i do not have the time to write anything these days… didnt expect my last post to get so many notes THANK YOU!!!! thank u for reading :3 (ps might open reqs soon. idk im working on a lot of stuff for tumblr)

It was dead silent. In a small alley in Mondstadt stood you and Diluc, standing parallel to each other as your face burned, tears sliding down your cheeks. No words have been exchanged ever since tears started welling up in your eyes. The lack of words was awkward and almost deafening, yet it didn’t matter to you. You were furious and you hadn’t even a clue as to why. The man that stood in front of you was clearly frustrated as well, but his frustration didn’t seem to be directed towards you. Rather, it was a frustration directed towards himself. Why? Why couldn't he say anything?

Biting your lips, you start, “Seriously, what…what is wrong with you?” Your voice is trembling, almost as if your words are struggling to escape. Whenever you got angry, you could never put your thoughts into words. Your only reaction to anger was to cry. To cry, and to never stop crying until you had sorted out these thoughts. Knowing you for so long, Diluc has taken note of this peculiar habit of yours. Even if he could say anything about the current situation, he would know best to not do so.

Words were practically stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to say anything to hurt him, yet you can’t help but be upset with him. That’s only natural, right? You inhale. “You leave Mondstadt for so long and—and you come back just to not be able to say anything.” Your voice is breaking in between each word. “Say something!” Your voice was hoarse, despite not having said much at all. Your attempt at a shout was more of a meek yelp. Diluc didn’t say anything, nothing at all. He just…stood there. You wipe your eyes quickly, your breath hitched, and attempt to regain your composure.

After a few minutes of absolutely nothing, you manage to regain your composure. You knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew that leaving Mondstadt wasn’t something he wanted to do. So why couldn't you forgive him?

“I hate that you left us. I hate that you left me. But I hate myself for wanting to hate you, too.” Diluc looks up at you, surprised. “I know you didn’t have a choice to leave. I couldn’t even imagine what you went through when Crepus died.” You sigh. Crepus was more of a dad to you than your actual parents were. You know how much worse Diluc had it. “So why do I feel this way?” Diluc clenched his fists. What is he going to say? Was he even going to say anything at all? You shut your eyes.

Finally, Diluc opens his mouth to say something. “I’m sorry.”

You held your breath, not knowing what to say. “…Huh?”

“You have every right to hate me.”

With this, your eyes started pouring again. Though, the tears felt much lighter this time. What is he talking about? You let out a small laugh at the stupidity of this situation. How is it that both of you feel sorry? You step closer to him, ignoring his apology. “Do you understand how much I missed you?” You look him in the eyes for the first time in three years. Three years. “I can’t bring myself to hate you, even after this. There wasn’t a day that went by where I haven’t thought of you.” You grit your teeth, clenching your fist slightly before relaxing your body. With that one statement, Diluc’s eyes widened. It’s a rare sight, really. “Promise me you wont leave me ever again. Please.”

Diluc pulls you to his chest and gives you a tight embrace. “I promise.”

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