#putting metaphors on what i feel and experience brings me some kind of relief

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

_

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

___________________________________________

Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

_

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

___________________________________________

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor pilot x reader #hazbin hotel pilot x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor imagines #im not samantha im samanta requests #im not samantha im samanta ask #im not samantha im samanta works #frenklinesamuelsrequests #frenklinesamuelsask #frenklinesamuelsworks

[probablymystories]

[retrieved 2]

I will never be twenty five again

I am blessed, and I am grateful growing up and never losing my inner child, my inner spark and most important of all my ugly laughter of joy.

2022, You have been so kind and gentle to me from the beginning to the end. I am nothing but with immensity of gratitude. This year feels like gentle breeze, gentle waves crashing and splashing with tons of sunshine. The first time in many long years I feel at home once again in my own body.

I still can recall the torment of 2017, took my first step into 20s and lost my loved one who was all along three quarters of myself. With both my grandparents gone, my world was torn apart and I was lost to pain to the point of retorting to medication for saving. I needed saving. Support system matters, kind words heal, but know when to seek professional and medical help if things really go south. It's terrifying to acknowledge that our thoughts do take forms. I did not even have enough conscience to worry that if i dwell, I will lose my future after all the things I have worked so hard for. Sadness has no bound, and it consumes you whole. With everything slowly comes together and I once more feel the life inside the veins and belong to myself again, it's a relief to finally put all the torment behind the veil.

It was a tough year, and years that followed were periods of healing. Some days were sunshine, and others were thunderstorm. "I never wanted to die, but I no longer wanted to live." was best described my grief. I spent my entire childhood with my grandparents, and with their passings, it was not just the fully grown me that suffered, but my whole happy memories of being a kid and carefree was shattered into tiny fragments. I made it each day collecting and retaining the piece. It is a work in progress. I'm not lessening the importance of others I still have in life, but when a person grieves, they lose all the big picture.

During those difficult months of covid, I came across a line from the internet 'living everyday with gratitude.' So I explored further, giving thanks to every little things in life, people who matter, and people who make you see you matter. When you were stuck at home with limited access to have fun, you spent more time with yourself. Saying this as though my entire life, I haven't already spent time with myself more than with anyone else. It definitely wasn't the best period of life or the proudest accomplishment to be remembered, but without the pandemic I wouldn't have had all the time in the word to dig within, reconnect and get to know my inner self this much. I discovered what brings me peace and what brings me pain. For certain, to put astray all the things and people that hurt. Leave them on the page we already flipped through and progress forth. I do not do the forgive-forget ceremony, I just carry on. Similarly to people who walk the grief, we don't move on, we move forward.

Being grateful for all the things that went right, people that did our heart good, and moments we were so happy that the heart inflated has been a healthy way to cope and live abide, rather than lingering over the sour experiences that wear us down. My way of seeing and living in the world has been altered as I used to be so clouded of worries and insecurities. I still have tons of them, but they cannot affect me as much. Metaphorically and of personal observance, for a plant's life, all energy are gathered and sent to that part of a new growth. Then the sprout begins to make appearance and forms another healthy stem. Very similar to the human mind, we grow thoughts we focus on. My concentration has shifted from loathing myself for everything that goes wrong, to appreciating and being grateful for every small thing that goes right. I am less heavy and I am free. Somewhat, we all want to keep having more sprouts that grow into a healthy plant.

This year, I have learned to understand and accept not only myself anymore, but all things. I learn to embrace and honor my vulnerable traits which I have been advised to work on, change, adapt, so I can become 'better', reach out and reach within, practice gratitude, learn the art of indifference, open up and connect. A child of dreams and fantasies, I continue to have faith.

It all started with a scribble from my gratitude journal:

I am idealistic and a dreamer, but for certain, I am capable of weighing opinions and decisions. I wear my heart on my sleeves, and I have done plenty of embarrassment of myself for being vulnerable and breaking down in public. I am highly sensitive and empathetic since birth and the traits seem to grow stronger as I age, but without them, I will lose the very core foundation of what makes me, me. I soften and I will continue to soften in a domain that teaches "if you want to survive, you need to toughen up".

I cry so often, and I get hurt very easily, which I despise very much because it makes me undependable and weak. But at that very same time, it allows me to fully understand and experience the fragility of life. I aspire to be nothing of great importance, but to grow old with grace and compassion.

I am grateful for everything now and for everything that will be.

You cannot really accept anyone if you haven't already accepted yourself. I am beyond words when told that around me, they feel safe. Being the harbor for others when I didn't get to have the harbor myself, that is perhaps my life's greatest milestone.

Never an act of following the bandwagon of trends or attempting to have them worn as accessories or mimicking someone of idolized figure, regardless. I just shut out the chatters and listened to the little voice from within, so i went to get my first tattoos at twenty five. The tiny drop of ink is a healing mantra. I feel light, connected and whole. It's an important takeaway, sometimes all healing we need is to listen to ourselves. We live on a borrowed time, so we might as well just do 'it'. The it can be diverse to all of us, but as long as it does not cost anyone's harm and their peace, and it makes you happy,

do.

Allow people to feel joy because being happy is a true luxury.

Learn to love and see yourself as you are, so you can do the same to others for who they are beyond the ugly, the discreet, the unwanted we all try so hard to conceal.

After all, in the vast cosmos, we're only specks of dust.

There are words from books I have picked quite a while and got to finish this year that have helped me stay afloat. I'm grateful to have have crossed those beautiful lines, experience and wise words of advice.

The beauty of what remains

Stoicism and the art of happiness

The empath survival guide

You are psychic: the art of clairvoyant reading and healing

Chatter

Attitude of gratitude

It's ok than you're not ok (my absolute favorite. a book understands me more than anyone could.)

Farewell, 2022. Farewell, twenty five.

In the years that will come, I hope to laugh just as much.

"the longer I know you, the more I don't know you"

How do I respond even. Same goes for me.

31.12.22

[groooooooot]

I will never be twenty five again

I am blessed, and I am grateful growing up and never losing my inner child, my inner spark and most important of all my ugly laughter of joy.

2022, You have been so kind and gentle to me from the beginning to the end. I am nothing but with immensity of gratitude. This year feels like gentle breeze, gentle waves crashing and splashing with tons of sunshine. The first time in many long years I feel at home once again in my own body.

I still can recall the torment of 2017, took my first step into 20s and lost my loved one who was all along three quarters of myself. With both my grandparents gone, my world was torn apart and I was lost to pain to the point of retorting to medication for saving. I needed saving. Support system matters, kind words heal, but know when to seek professional and medical help if things really go south. It's terrifying to acknowledge that our thoughts do take forms. I did not even have enough conscience to worry that if i dwell, I will lose my future after all the things I have worked so hard for. Sadness has no bound, and it consumes you whole. With everything slowly comes together and I once more feel the life inside the veins and belong to myself again, it's a relief to finally put all the torment behind the veil.

It was a tough year, and years that followed were periods of healing. Some days were sunshine, and others were thunderstorm. "I never wanted to die, but I no longer wanted to live." was best described my grief. I spent my entire childhood with my grandparents, and with their passings, it was not just the fully grown me that suffered, but my whole happy memories of being a kid and carefree was shattered into tiny fragments. I made it each day collecting and retaining the piece. It is a work in progress. I'm not lessening the importance of others I still have in life, but when a person grieves, they lose all the big picture.

During those difficult months of covid, I came across a line from the internet 'living everyday with gratitude.' So I explored further, giving thanks to every little things in life, people who matter, and people who make you see you matter. When you were stuck at home with limited access to have fun, you spent more time with yourself. Saying this as though my entire life, I haven't already spent time with myself more than with anyone else. It definitely wasn't the best period of life or the proudest accomplishment to be remembered, but without the pandemic I wouldn't have had all the time in the word to dig within, reconnect and get to know my inner self this much. I discovered what brings me peace and what brings me pain. For certain, to put astray all the things and people that hurt. Leave them on the page we already flipped through and progress forth. I do not do the forgive-forget ceremony, I just carry on. Similarly to people who walk the grief, we don't move on, we move forward.

Being grateful for all the things that went right, people that did our heart good, and moments we were so happy that the heart inflated has been a healthy way to cope and live abide, rather than lingering over the sour experiences that wear us down. My way of seeing and living in the world has been altered as I used to be so clouded of worries and insecurities. I still have tons of them, but they cannot affect me as much. Metaphorically and of personal observance, for a plant's life, all energy are gathered and sent to that part of a new growth. Then the sprout begins to make appearance and forms another healthy stem. Very similar to the human mind, we grow thoughts we focus on. My concentration has shifted from loathing myself for everything that goes wrong, to appreciating and being grateful for every small thing that goes right. I am less heavy and I am free. Somewhat, we all want to keep having more sprouts that grow into a healthy plant.

This year, I have learned to understand and accept not only myself anymore, but all things. I learn to embrace and honor my vulnerable traits which I have been advised to work on, change, adapt, so I can become 'better', reach out and reach within, practice gratitude, learn the art of indifference, open up and connect. A child of dreams and fantasies, I continue to have faith.

It all started with a scribble from my gratitude journal:

I am idealistic and a dreamer, but for certain, I am capable of weighing opinions and decisions. I wear my heart on my sleeves, and I have done plenty of embarrassment of myself for being vulnerable and breaking down in public. I am highly sensitive and empathetic since birth and the traits seem to grow stronger as I age, but without them, I will lose the very core foundation of what makes me, me. I soften and I will continue to soften in a domain that teaches "if you want to survive, you need to toughen up".

I cry so often, and I get hurt very easily, which I despise very much because it makes me undependable and weak. But at that very same time, it allows me to fully understand and experience the fragility of life. I aspire to be nothing of great importance, but to grow old with grace and compassion.

I am grateful for everything now and for everything that will be.

You cannot really accept anyone if you haven't already accepted yourself. I am beyond words when told that around me, they feel safe. Being the harbor for others when I didn't get to have the harbor myself, that is perhaps my life's greatest milestone.

Never an act of following the bandwagon of trends or attempting to have them worn as accessories or mimicking someone of idolized figure, regardless. I just shut out the chatters and listened to the little voice from within, so i went to get my first tattoos at twenty five. The tiny drop of ink is a healing mantra. I feel light, connected and whole. It's an important takeaway, sometimes all healing we need is to listen to ourselves. We live on a borrowed time, so we might as well just do 'it'. The it can be diverse to all of us, but as long as it does not cost anyone's harm and their peace, and it makes you happy,

do.

Allow people to feel joy because being happy is a true luxury.

Learn to love and see yourself as you are, so you can do the same to others for who they are beyond the ugly, the discreet, the unwanted we all try so hard to conceal.

After all, in the vast cosmos, we're only specks of dust.

There are words from books I have picked quite a while and got to finish this year that have helped me stay afloat. I'm grateful to have have crossed those beautiful lines, experience and wise words of advice.

The beauty of what remains Stoicism and the art of happiness The empath survival guide You are psychic: the art of clairvoyant reading and healing Chatter Attitude of gratitude It's ok than you're not ok (my absolute favorite. a book understands me more than anyone could.)

Farewell, 2022. Farewell, twenty five.

In the years that will come, I hope to laugh just as much.

"the longer I know you, the more I don't know you"

How do I respond even. Same goes for me.

31.12.22

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance II

Character: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,149

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Idk why I’ve characterized Albedo as a slob twice now. I guess I just think he’s the kind of person to become so engrossed in his research he just, never takes care of himself or his surroundings.

Also this was supposed to be two people but I procrastinated terribly so… here we are haha. Part three tomorrow.

Albedo

It was the third time this week that you had managed to spill his lab notes all over the floor, and frankly Albedo wasn’t sure if he could deal with it any longer.

“You’ve got a lot of papers strewn around,” you said, tone light and joking as you crouched to gather all the papers up.

“You’re the one that keeps bumping into things,” Albedo mumbled, crouching next to you to make sure that you put things back in order.

Seeing that you were putting things together haphazardly he snatched up the papers, frowning slightly as he went through the papers. Honestly, how could you mess up his system so much? As much as Albedo appreciated your interest in his work you were a Knight of Favonius, not a scientist, and as such your visits seemed to cause havoc more than anything else.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” You asked, exasperation creeping into your tone.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You seem, stressed. If you want I could pick up the papers on the tables and organize.”

“Don’t!”

“Albedo?” You leaned back slightly, as if surprised. For some reason that only made the alchemist more irritated.

“If you do that, you’ll just be creating more work for me. I’m very busy right now, I don’t have time to go back and fix your mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“It’s already enough that you keep spilling things all over the ground.”

“It’s not my fault that you leave your papers everywhere without even trying to keep them organized.”

“They are organized!”

“Well they certainly don’t look organized to me.”

“You just don’t understand. Besides, I’ve managed not to knock everything over.”

“You know, you’re insufferable when you get like this.”

“I’m not any different than usual.”

“I hope you don’t really think that,” you replied, tone clipped.

Standing up you turned towards the door. Though Albedo made a half-hearted call of your name you didn’t react, simply walking out of the room and slamming the door as hard as possible behind you.

Albedo didn’t even think of you the rest of the afternoon. Anger iced over his slight worry, replacing it with a burning sense of resentment. Your sudden departure stung, and, though it was admittedly childish, Albedo found himself determined not to worry about you.

Besides, you were simply an obstacle to his research at this point. Maybe it was better if you went off to cool your head somewhere, then he could finish up his work. That was what usually happened with other people anyways. Apprentices, clients, the occasional wandering alchemist; they all fluttered around him until he couldn’t stand it and then when they inevitably got fed up he’d finish his work. His relationship with you was still new, and though he couldn’t say that you were the same as all those people in his eyes, he really had no reason to think you would react in a different way.

The sun had gone down long before Albedo finally locked up for the night. It had taken him a good forty minutes to reorganize everything that had fallen, though admittedly most of that time was spent in angry silence. Now as Albedo walked down the streets, still busy with night activity, he wondered what might happen when he got home. He certainly wasn’t ready to apologize, even if his tone was a bit curt his words weren’t wrong; but he couldn’t exactly see you apologizing either. It was bound to be a tense evening. One Albedo was certainly not looking forward too.

All the lights were off in the apartment, something that struck Albedo as odd. Walking towards the kitchen he found a piece of paper crumpled up on the kitchen floor, though when he uncrumpled the paper he was met with eraser marks. Letting out a huff of impatience Albedo went to put some water on the stove. So this is how the evening was going to pass; you presumably at a friend’s house, Albedo in stony silence.

“How petty,” Albedo murmured.

He didn’t expect such a show of emotions from you, having come to the conclusion that you were quite the rational sort. Really, this was all too much. He had been in the right after all, even if he had been a bit cold about it. There was no reason to react in such a way. It was this mindset that carried Albedo through the rest of the evening and off to sleep. After all, it was better than the kernel of doubt that rested in the back of his head, that told him he was the one being callous.

You didn’t show up at the apartment or the lab the next day. Albedo buckled down to work, but by midday the irritation and anger that he’d been holding over were replaced by a deep sense of unease. Hurrying home after work he felt panic shoot through him at the sight of your home empty, nothing suggesting anyone had been there in the time he was at work.

It took all of Albedo’s willpower not to run out the door and go look for you. All the anger and irritation he had felt had been thrown out the window, replaced instead with an intense feeling of worry, and of the realization that his actions might bear actual consequences.

Tossing and turning in bed Albedo stared up at the empty ceiling. He had been certain he was in the right, even this morning. You were clumsy, you had been inconsiderate of his work, you were simply stubborn and petty. Now however he replayed your argument, your fight, over and over again. The more he did so the more he became aware of how harshly he’d acted; the more he wished you would simply appear in front of him so he could apologize. He wanted to go after you, wanted to let you know that he genuinely felt bad. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so, to go after you. After all, what if you didn’t want to see him? What if he just made things worse? Once more turning in bed Albedo sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d see you again. Tomorrow he’d make things better.

There was no sight of you tomorrow either. Albedo stood in his lab in stunned silence, heart hammering in his chest as he contemplated what this could possibly mean. Was this it then? Had he messed up that badly?

Staring around him Albedo noticed all the papers scattered this way and that on the tables and the desks. Seized by a sudden urge he scooped them all up, carrying them over to where he kept his files. A part of him jeered that it was too little too late, but still the alchemist didn’t stop until everything was filed away properly. Turning around to look at his desk he collected the dirty mugs and discarded equipment, putting them in the sink before turning around to pick through the no longer needed papers that still lay sprawled around the room. He didn’t stop for lunch, nor did he go to start back up on the experiment he was currently working on. Instead he kept picking up and putting away and rearranging. It was almost a ritual of some sort, and though it brought little relief, at least it finally brought distraction.

Still that distraction was shattered the minute Albedo stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the people of Mondstadt were still wandering around, enjoy the cool summer evening. Staring at the people around him, their eyes filled either with purpose or contentment, Albedo realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t face the empty apartment again. He thought that his anger would last longer, that he might go a week before feeling as if he burning from the inside out; but now he knew that that had been an arrogant, if somewhat funny, assumption. Turning away from the familiar path home he climbed up the steps of Mondstadt. He knew where he needed to go.

Walking up to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters Albedo was met with the sight of Eula, arms firmly crossed in front of her, faced even colder than usual. Hurrying over to your higher-up Albedo felt uncertainty bloom in his chest. Someone this seemed to bode ill.

“Eula?”

“Ah, the Head Alchemist. What do you wish to say to me?”

“Have you seen my partner?” Albedo paused, somewhat unwilling to reveal what had happened. “They haven’t been home for days, and I wondered if you knew where they might be staying.”

The look on Eula’s face was one of pure disbelief. “You, you don’t know what happened?” Her face shadowed over and she seemed to pull herself up. “If I were your partner, I would declare eternal vengeance for your idiocy. I don’t know what you’ve been doing Head Alchemist, but while you were off doing whatever it is you do, your partner was languishing underground.”

Albedo froze, unsure if he’d truly heard Eula right. The Knight tended to be quite flowery after all with her words. Perhaps this was just a metaphor he couldn’t understand.

“I see that it still hasn’t gotten through your head what happened.” Eula sighed, relaxing slightly. “I sent them off to monitor a few Fatui members, as it seems a group had made their way out of Dragonspine and into Windwail. While doing so they attempted to hide in a small crack in the mountains, but there was a steep drop after that onto the next shelf. Thankfully Amber had also been ordered to scout there, or else who knows how long it might have took to realize they were stuck. I just got the report from them, thankfully there was no lasting trauma.”

“W-where are they?”

“At home I presume. Aren’t you their partner?” Eula tilted her head. “Really, perhaps she should declare a need for vengeance.” And with that the Spindrift Knight walked into the Headquarters, leaving Albedo reeling on the step, heart thudding as if he’d just run a hundred miles.

Albedo practically fell down the steps of Mondstadt, so desperate was he to find you, to make sure you were okay. Eula had said that there was no lasting trauma, but what that meant Albedo was completely unsure of. Had you broken anything? Had you been deprived of oxygen? These thoughts catapulted through Albedo’s brain, constricting his lungs and plunging him into a roil of incoherent emotions.

The sight of you standing in front of his lab cause Albedo to stop in his tracks. For a moment the alchemist was overwhelmed by his emotions, switching between dizzying euphoria, terrible guilt, and unending worry. He took a step forward, then another, walking slowly down the stairs, as if in fear that you might disappear or turn away. However instead of turning away when he reached the end of the steps and made his way towards the fountain you let out a sort of shudder, running towards him and throwing your arms around his neck. Albedo wrapped his arms around you in turn, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the sudden proximity, the sudden feeling of once more being able to feel your skin against his. Letting his head drop onto your shoulder Albedo breathed in deeply, centering himself with your presence, grounding himself in the knowledge that the agony of the previous days was finally over.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“For what?” You whispered back.

“For not listening to you, for blaming you, for being cruel.”

“I’m also sorry.”

“Why? I was in the wrong.”

“Well, I just went off without telling you where I was going. I was going to write a note, but I was so angry I erased it.” You tightened your grasp around Albedo. “I wish I could’ve seen into the future. I never would have done something like that.”

“I don’t care about that,” Albedo ran small circles around the small of your back. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No. I’m sorry for not being there, for not being able to help you; for doing nothing while you…” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Pulling back for a moment you cupped Albedo’s face in your palms, studying his expression. Finally you bent over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, breath mingling with his.

Albedo leaned into to kiss you once more, finding that his emotions were blocking out any words he might have been able to say. Everything seemed so surreal, as if he’d been stuck in some awful nightmare that only now faded away. And yet this wasn’t a nightmare, this was reality; and Albedo would have to remember that.

For now though, he only wanted to wipe all the fear and conflict away.

#genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin albedo #requested #scenarios #my writing #not proofread

[cozycottagetarot]

Who's Coming In & Why? (General)

Here’s the thing… I'd love to tell you this is all love and friendships, but it’s not. It’s more of a who’s coming in to help you move forward.

Still, I’m posting it because it may still resonate with some people.

However, I will do a second reading of the same topic in the future focusing on love and friendships in particular.

Check out my Paid Readings ✨

PILE 1 — The Inspiration

Energy surrounding them: Queen of Pentacles

I see this as being some person you need to move you forward, be it a general mentor, someone with a career, or someone to get you motivated to get up and take action (the latter comes through strongest) . They could be well off, not necessarily lavishly rich, but more so in the sense of being a better situation than you. There could be a nurturing or gentle energy to them as well.

The vibes I get: Vision boards, goals, goal setting, power move

Why they’re coming in? The Empress, Judgement, The Tower (all reversed)

There may be some kind of disharmony in your life, particularly with you. You may be too much into your masculine energy (logic and material) and neglecting your feminine energy (nurturing, intuition). It could be a matter of self confidence and unhappiness with how your life is going. This person is coming in to put you back on track, and shift your perspective. Them entering your life will help you to face your fears and release any self doubt you may have. They may help you to avoid ending up in a bad place. Because all your cards keep coming out reversed (even though I didn’t want to take all reversals) I see it as a sign as well to don’t be afraid to start anew, instead of trying to situate everything exactly the way it was in the before. Like that quote/saying that goes something like-- "don’t be afraid to start over because this time you’re not starting from scratch, your starting from experience?"

How they'll help you? 10 of Swords, 9 of Wands reversed

The only place to go from here is up, but you need to stop being so stubborn about it. This person coming in is going to help you get your back you drive to 'fight' so you can pursue happiness/goals in a new way.

Potential Struggles? Knight of Wands, The Star reversed

Be careful your inspired action is not really impulsivity . You’ll have to do some inner work as well. You may compare yourself to this person and risk falling back into the same state again. You need to take responsible actions, get in tune with your emotions and work on your confidence and any anxieties you may have. Healing from the past as well, because your past isn’t your future.

PILE 2 -- The Therapist

Energy surrounding them: The Star

The energy surrounding the person coming in is one of calm and stability, and that is what they will bring to you. This person is going to help heal you, be it professionally (a therapist or psychologist) or unintentionally (someone who triggers our healing). This person is going to feel like everything will be okay.

The vibes I get: therapy, a guiding star, two people sitting and talking, letting your soul speak

Why they’re coming in? 6 of Wands reversed, The Moon, 6 of cups reversed

This person is going to help reveal the truth about a situation. Particularly if you haven’t had the best things happening a) in most of your life, or b) in this particular chapter or your life. This person will help you realise the things that weren’t your fault, the things you can change and the things that all come down to your beliefs. You may come to realise with the help of this person, that a lot of fears and limitations you have are self imposed. Not only that, but this person may help you figure out what your positive inner voice sounds like and help you to embrace it. Any dreams you’ve had hidden away (sleep dreams or goals-dreams) may also become more clear to you. After this you’ll be able to move forwards in live. The past won’t hold you back anymore. You’ll be able to move on or view these events that took place through a new lense.

How they'll help you? 3 of Wands, 8 of Swords reversed

The blindfold is going to come off. You’re going to be able to move forward in your life. The work you put in is going to help you move forward with a new found confidence and belief in self. You’ll be able to take your life into your own hands.

Potential Struggles? king of pentacles & ace of swords

You may struggle with the whole process of breaking through and envisioning a different future for yourself. Also, seeing your growth and how mature and stable (as in the different areas of your life) you may have become may take you some time or be difficult.

Pile 3-- The Sage

Energy surrounding them: The Emperor

The person coming into your life has a strong energy to them. They are most likely older than you or at the least has a very wise energy to them. They might not be the most emotional or expressive, but they are reliable.

The vibes I get: Someone with an otherworldly energy or wisdom. Someone established. You can't help but notice them.

Why they're coming in? 4 of Pentacles, The Chariot, Page of Cups

This person is coming in to show you how to find and build security in many aspects of your life the right way. You may be holding onto things that aren’t good for you and this person is going to come in and force you to ask yourself why. Also potentially isolation may be something you need to deal with. You may be currently playing defence. But once you allow yourself to let go, you may find new things, people, and opportunities come in, better than you image. You may find yourself becoming someone you really want to be as well as finding yourself in the beginning stages of tapping into your emperor energy.

How they'll help you? Strength reversed, Knight of Swords

They’re going to help you tap into your inner strength so you can take the necessary actions to help yourself. They’ll help trigger the arrival of big changes in your life.Things will finally start to flow.

Potential Struggles? Judgement, 6 of Pentacles

You may feel resistant at first, feeling as if they don’t know what they’re talking about and are just trying to bring you down. You may be hesitant to take their advice or trust that they have your best interest in mind.

** Gandalf. Gandalf came to me but I don’t know why as I know practically nothing about him. 😬 Maybe you do!?

Pile 4-- The Charmer

Energy surrounding them: 8 of Cups reversed

The person coming in is going to scare you, but not in a bad way. You may have this happy, “I’m put together” facade, and this person is going to be able to see right through it. They have the ability, literally or metaphorically, to bring you into something better and that may leave you feeling afraid.

The vibes I get: Someone clever and charming. Feeling flustered. Oh no, I have a crush.

Why they’re coming in? Temperance, 9 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords

They’re coming in to show you that if you stop allowing fear to keep you where you are, peace, balance, and contentment will find you. The situation you may be staying in may not be a result of your actions, and taking the steps to get out of it may be difficult, but this person is one hundred percent here to challenge your reasoning for why you can’t.

How they'll help you? The Magician, 10 of Swords, The High Priestess reversed

They’re going to show you magic. I’m feeling like you might develop a romantic or platonic crush on them. There’s just that vibe. They’re going to show you how amazing you truly are. They’re going to show you that you have the ability to make things happen. They’ll help you create that ending and see your new beginning.

Potential Struggles? Knight of Cups reversed, 2 of Wands

This person most likely isn’t going to stay long and that may throw you off guard. This all feels very fast paced so their quick arrival and departure may leave you feeling a little bit broken hearted. Be careful you’re not investing too much headspace and emotion in this person.

Pile 5-- The Cheerleader

Energy surrounding them: 3 of Swords reversed

This person has a very calm healing energy to them. I feel like if you’re going through a heartbreak in particular, the prominent pain of it is going to start disappearing. I actually redid your reading and the vibes I was getting before were not good ones. I felt like I was trying to shoo it away, and the reading felt like it was about someone leaving you who had hurt you so I think that’s what this could be. This could also be someone from the past. An old friend in particular.

**As for the person from the past, to help you figure out if this reading is for you— i was thinking back of the cards I pulled and this person felt emotionally immature and manipulative, though I’m not sure it’s intentionally. Were you trying to fix them? To make them feel better? But they were so stuck in their toxic habits/mindset that they just ended up sending your world into turmoil? Because that came through strongly just now.

The vibes I get: thank you, troubles disappearing, a sigh of relief

Why they’re coming in? King of Swords, King of Cups reversed, 4 of Cups reversed

This person is coming in to help you move on from the pain and worries that you have been in. You’re ready to get back to business and this person will be there for you. Cheerleading came to me as well, so that’s what they’ll be— your cheerleader. You’re also going to be stepping into a new chapter of maturity and level headedness. Any responsibilities or ideas you’ve been putting off, this person is going to help you with them.

How they'll help you? 9 of Wands, The Empress reveresed

Like I mentioned before, they’re going to help ease your anxieties, pain and sadness. With The Empress rx, ‘makeover’ came to me as well and I got super excited, so maybe that’s what you need and this person will help you with? They’re going to help you sort your emotions, make sense of everything and feel confident, attractive and capable again.

Potential Struggles? The World, Page of Wands

Setting your world back in order is going to take some work, but the results will be worth it. The only caution would be don’t rush your actions, without thinking about the consequences fully.

———

Disclaimer: I read tarot for self reflection and guidance purposes, but as always, this reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. I may include advice for if you find a particular topic resonating, but it is in no way meant to replace any kind of professional advice. Any reading I post is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. Prediction readings are to be seen simply as a potential outcome. Finally, please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #ariesmoontarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a pile reading #pac reading

[year2000electronics]

Siblings, Origami, and Slightly Wasted Potential

Hi. Me again. I have some thoughts on Origami King and the ideal future we could have had.

(Spoilers for Origami King!)

(image recreation)

Last time on the analysis show, I took a look at the characterization of Paper Luigi (which is a pretty good read, I’ve been told). This time, I’d like to build on that a little more by addressing Paper Mario’s other pair of iconic siblings- Olly and Olivia. 

Specifically, the way I believe they have the ability to parallel Paper Mario and Paper Luigi.

So, to lay out some basic facts (as is usually necessary to make a strong foundation), I’d like to talk a bit about Mario and Luigi’s relationship with one another. 

Thanks to Luigi gaining importance in the Mario series as a whole, he’s been equipped with some new abilities and stories of his own. However, thanks to Mario encompassing everything heroic under the sun, a lot of the time, Luigi tends to need to take the ‘road less traveled’ of abilities and stories. This may just be an out-of-character thing, but over time, it’s given Luigi this sort of niche that he fills compared to Mario. 

Me, personally, I like to call Mario a ‘sun sibling’ and Luigi a ‘moon sibling’. 

The sun is associated with brightness, happiness, daytime- the time that most people use to the fullest. A sunny day will bring a smile to anyone. Mario has the same happy aesthetics as the daytime, his adventures always triumphant and basking in the spotlight. 

... (And sometimes, they’re quite literally ‘sunny’ adventures.)

Compare this to the moon- the nighttime. In popular culture, the night, darkness and even the moon have been used to signify darkness, mystery. The night in and of itself is something that’s only designated to ‘night owls’- it takes a lot of active planning to stay up for a lot of the night. However, the moon itself isn’t inherently dark- people still need it to get their eight hours. Even though the night’s job isn’t the same as the day’s, it’s still important...

...when the sun is hiding away. 

That little bit of poetry aside, Luigi’s ‘dark’ and ‘against the norm’ aesthetic can be seen pretty much everywhere you look, even if you’re not much for my metaphors.

Luigi’s flagship series being all about ghost-hunting in a spooky, dark mansion...

(Which, by the way, in Mario Super Sluggers, can only be accessed at NIGHT!!! !!!) 

Luigi being the one who has access to the mysterious and vague dream world powers, 

Whatever this was,

This fucking guy,

You get the point. 

Which leads me to my next point: Olivia and Olly are also Sun Sibling and Moon Sibling.

I’m sure this is fairly obvious to anyone who looks. Olivia is bubbly, excitable, friendly, and kind.

Olly is, um.

Not that. 

(Oh also, their colour schemes the ‘night’ and ‘day’ colour schemes of Scorching Sandpaper Desert. So there’s that.)

So now we’ve established that 

But here’s the thing. Siblings is not the same. See, there’s something different about Olly and Olivia compared to Mario and Luigi.

Olly is the older sibling. And just like that... Luigi’s primary reason for being a ‘moon’ sibling is just straight-up not available to Olly. Luigi got his quirks from being in Mario’s shadow, but Olly is new... fresh. He just is this way. It’s not a phase, CRAFTSMAN. 

This poses some... interesting ideas when it’s presented next to the Mario brothers, though. Olivia is the younger sibling, who seems to look up to Olly just as much as Luigi looks up to Mario. Or at least... she’d like to. 

Despite having LITERALLY NO EVIDENCE to believe this, Olivia spends the entire game saying that she believes Olly can be talked down from this. She almost treats Olly and his entire evil plan as two separate entities, almost like Olly is a damsel she has to rescue. Don’t get me wrong, she never shies away from saying her brother needs to be stopped, but considering what seemingly little reason Olly gives for her to believe he’s worth saving... (sorry Olly. You lived then you put your dad in a wall. Life’s tough like that. Also you put a rock on her.) She’s persistent. 

Imagine how that must feel to Mario, seeing someone- seeing a Luigi who’s not the meek, mysterious one, but just as bright and bubbly as him. They grow so close throughout all this, but... Mario isn’t HER brother. And Olivia isn’t HIS sibling. 

And neither of them forget that. Even for one second. 

It makes us almost sigh in relief that Mario is such a good role model to both Olivia and Luigi, because Olivia shows us this idea of the underdog sibling not HAVING a forever-kind older brother. It’s... kinda sad. No, really sad. Olivia and Olly WANT to be a pair, but neither of them agree. They both want to ‘save’ each other, but they must keep battling if they want their side to win. 

This on its own is pretty interesting, but I want to cover the ‘slightly missed potential’ part. If you think Olivia and Mario’s parallels are a good story bit... can you IMAGINE what Olly and Luigi would be like? 

Referencing my Luigi analysis again, I concluded that Luigi has a bit of an inferiority superiority complex- a TV trope where someone’s feelings of inadequacy are often masked by an overconfidence, trying to hide that horrible blemish. 

(Don’t worry. He gets better.) 

Now, I wouldn’t say Olly is secretly insecure or anything- far from it. He is, however, EXCEEDINGLY confident, in both his abilities and his beliefs. He truly seems to believe that the ways of origami are glorious and that folding the kingdom will be a sort of ‘rebirth’. The only thing that is motivated entirely by his rage (not that those other parts aren’t, this one is just really personal) is his wish to turn every Toad into blank paper. And why is that? 

Because the Origami Craftsman scribbled on him. It’s a blemish, and one that he keeps hidden VERY easily. (I mean, you don’t see it here, do you?) 

...Interestingly, Olly has this line here: 

He says he made Olivia ‘too perfect’. It’s backhanded, sure, but... it’s still a compliment. He thinks his sister is perfect. She is perfect. He is blemished.

The sun sibling is perfect...

The moon sibling isn’t. 

This is why I think Olly and Luigi should have had some form of interaction. Luigi is this perfect mentor figure for the young king. Even though he wouldn’t be able to make a dent in Olly’s ideology or Toad-hating, there is one thing... one thing Olly might still be able to turn to the good side for. 

His sister.

Despite the fact that Origami Castle gets folded to life before Mario’s very eyes, which is when Olly has asked time and time again for Olivia to join him, and she’s still refused, the castle is still LITTERED with decorations of BOTH OF THEM. 

Olly still loves his sister. And he doesn’t want to lose her- even if he is blinded by rage. I think if Luigi was around Olly somehow, for most of the game (my personal idea would be that Luigi just can’t be folded somehow and Olly has no choice but to keep him in Peach’s Castle because he might help Mario otherwise), then he could say, from personal experience, how blind rage doesn’t solve anything... how your relationship with your sibling is the most precious thing in the world, should you keep it correctly. 

How... he KNOWS Olivia really looks up to him and looks to him for guidance, because he’s the exact same way. And how Olivia needs her big brother. 

Maybe Olly has some second thoughts, but convinces himself it’ll all be for the greater good. He just needs to defeat that red plumber. 

That green plumber’s... big brother. 

All in all, I think it could really have made Olly and Olivia even more impactful than they already are. At least they finally get reunited...

Even if it’s only for a brief moment. 

#paper mario #mario #origami king #pmtok #origami king spoilers #king olly #[BANGING POTS AND PANS] IM BAAAAACK

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

A Small Price to Pay

doing this thing | day 1 - makeshift gag

"I cannot and will not." Jaskier puts his foot down - literally and metaphorically - and crosses his arms in Geralt's direction. Geralt just rolls his eyes and sighs at him.

"Then how do you propose we get past half the Nilfgaardian army?"

He's being ridiculous, of course; a few dozen men hardly constitute half their army, but he does have a point - Jaskier is disappointingly low on ideas. But the idea of being bound and gagged is just... well, it's not detestable but he'd prefer it under very, very different circumstances.

"We'll just go back. Or wait for them to move on." Geralt glances over to where three men are setting up a tent and quirks an eyebrow at Jaskier. "Oh, I don't know! There has to be something else we can do? Surely we can go around, through-"

"We've been delayed enough already. If we don't make it to Vengerberg in the next three days Yen and Ciri will leave without us."

Jaskier frowns. He does so enjoy travelling with Ciri, but the entire trip to Kaer Morhen without Yen sounds like a dream come true if he's honest. He wants to say as much, but he suspects it won't be taken well. Instead, he just continues to frown at the grass beneath his feet.

Truthfully, Geralt has a very good reason for not wanting to upset Yen - or to confront the army, to be fair - but has failed to take into account that Jaskier also has a very good reason for not wanting to be tied up. Nor does he seem to care as he rifles through his pack and produces a length of rope short enough to bind Jaskier's hands behind his back.

"But why does it have to be me? They're looking for you! I could just say I'm bringing you to them!" He takes a step back as Geralt moves into his space and the look he gets is incredulous.

"And risk both of us getting killed because I can't use my swords? I don't think so." Geralt reaches out to him and Jaskier takes another step back, promptly hitting the trunk of a badly placed tree.

Realizing he's trapped and Geralt is smiling about it, Jaskier sighs and relents. He turns around reluctantly and Geralt takes his hands, placing one wrist over the other. Under other circumstances, he would revel in this much contact, but right now he just feels defeated and apprehensive.

It takes all his concentration not to think while Geralt binds his hands. It's bad enough that Geralt is practically holding his hand, rough, calloused fingers curled around his own to steady him, but the rope. He doesn't know where it came from, but it's surprisingly smooth against his skin without even the reliably scratchy bits to distract him from the feeling of, well, being entirely at Geralt's mercy. And that- that is something he really can't focus on right now.

"Is it too tight?" Geralt asks and Jaskier doesn't trust himself to speak so he just shakes his head. "Your heart is beating too quickly, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mutters, staring too hard at his boots. "Nervous," he adds as an afterthought; Geralt won't shut up about it until he gets an answer that satisfies him and sometimes it's better just to lie.

"Do you trust me?"

Fuck, what kind of question is that? Trust is not at all the problem here. "Of course," Jaskier whispers and his voice comes out light and wispy, not at all what he was hoping for. But Geralt seems unfazed.

He finishes his task and returns to their packs. When he returns, he's got a scrap of fabric in his hand and if Jaskier's heart was beating quickly before, it's outright pounding now. Because Jaskier would recognize that fabric anywhere. He's the one who washes and mends their clothes and that right there is a piece of Geralt's unsalvagable shirt and it's not going anywhere near his face - not in a million years.

He opens his mouth to tell Geralt as much, but he just splutters indignantly as Geralt slips the material between his lips. With his hands bound behind him, Jaskier is helpless to resist.

"Surely, you've had worse," Geralt mutters and Jaskier doesn't know if he's referring to traumatizing experiences, embarrassment, or bondage but the answer is no almost straight across the board.

Because this smells like Geralt. And Jaskier doesn't know what he tastes like, but this is probably as close as he'll get, tasting the soap he uses to wash it and something he can't place but feels remarkably like Geralt. A sharp stab of want breaks through his composure and for a horrifying moment, Jaskier wishes the gag was covered in dirt or blood or monster innards.

"Ready?" Geralt asks and Jaskier just groans. He most certainly is not ready and if he thought pushing down his arousal was hard with his hands bound, it's ten times worse with Geralt's scent flooding his senses.

Geralt steps away to collect Roach and Jaskier takes a moment to try to breathe and compose. It works for the briefest of moments before Geralt appears out of nowhere, wrapping a firm hand around his bicep and hauling him forward. Heat spreads through Jaskier's entire body and he stumbles to catch up.

Either he's going to blow it for them because the guard will take one look at him and realize he is in no way a prisoner against his will, or they'll make it through and he'll be horrifically embarrassed for the rest of his life. It's not that he's ashamed of his sexual preferences, he'd just rather not share them quite so blatantly with Geralt.

As expected, a soldier stops them just as soon as they step out of the trees. Geralt's hand tightens a little around his arm and Jaskier tries to keep as close as he can to him without seeming suspicious. Geralt speaks before the Nilfgaardian even has a chance.

"I need to speak to your commander," he growls, low and commanding, "this man claims to have knowledge of princess Cirilla's whereabouts."

He isn't even questioned, the guard just mutters something and Geralt grunts a response and hauls Jaskier forward a little more roughly than necessary. Jaskier's cock twitches and he pretends not to notice as Geralt makes a self-satisfied noise at him. So he was right then. There'll be no living with him after this.

They make it to the opposite side of the Nilfgaardian camp, a safe distance away and Geralt finally released him, but it's too late for that now. Jaskier's cock has taken a distinct interest, what with the growling and manhandling and bondage that fucking smells like Geralt and is now pressed firmly against the front of his trousers, unmistakable in his current position.

Jaskier angles himself away from Geralt, and Geralt naturally reads him wrong and slips up behind him to untie the gag. Which is little relief at this point and then, as Geralt presses up against his back, actually so much worse than just keeping it on. Because Jaskier can feel the heat radiating off his body, can imagine what it would feel like if Geralt just took one more step forward and slotted their bodies together. Jaskier bites back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think of anything else, but then Geralt's hands are on him.

And who touches someone this much just to untie a gag? Someone who seeks Jaskier's imminent death via spontaneous combustion - or, apparently, Geralt. His fingers slip up the back of his neck, press lightly against his head. And if it's not bad enough that he spends an eternity untying the damn thing, he pushes his fingers through Jaskier's hair after before finally stepping away.

Which, Jaskier quickly discovers, is only because they've been followed. He drops to his knees to further hide his... situation and peers over his shoulder as Geralt strides toward the soldier, apparently unconcerned.

"What are you doing here?" the Nilfgaardian asks. Geralt cocks his head to one side.

"Nothing. And you're going to go back to your camp and forget you ever saw us here. In fact, you're going to tell your commanding officer the surrounding area is clear, no reason to send out scouts."

Jaskier just sits and gawks, horrified and betrayed, as the man nods and echoes Geralt's words back to him before turning away.

"Are you-" he splutters when the soldier is a safe distance away, "are you telling me you could have just done that the whole time!?" The faintest smile tugs at the corner of Geralt's lips and Jaskier could kill him. Might, even, if he wasn't still bound.

Geralt casts a final look to make sure the soldier is gone and crosses over to him. Jaskier shifts, but his mobility is limited without his arms to balance and Geralt crouches down in front of him, clearly pleased with himself.

"Maybe," he shrugs, reaching up to tip Jaskier's chin up. Jaskier's heart is in his throat and he can't fucking believe this is happening to him. Either Geralt has some very surprising feelings about humiliation or he's a grade-A dick. "But then I wouldn't get to see you like this." His voice goes very soft at the end and Jaskier shuts his eyes, biting down on a groan.

Either Geralt is a very cruel man or somewhere along the way Jaskier passed out from the lack of blood to his brain and he's dreaming. But Geralt's fingers feel solid and real where they slide against his jaw and he's close enough now that Jaskier can feel his breath on his face and oh-

Geralt's hand settles on his thigh and Jakier's eyes flash open, searching Geralt's for any sign of hesitation but there's nothing. If he doesn't do something soon, Jaskier's going to do something incredibly stupid that he'll probably regret. He sits back on his heels, pulling out of Geralt's touch and looks up at him.

"You knew?" he asks.

"No. I was joking when I said I could tie you up and take you through the camp, but the way you reacted-" he hums and Jaskier's resistance fails him.

Geralt shifts toward him, dropping to one knee as he reaches out, running his fingers down Jaskier's chest. And Jaskier is weak to resist him. He presses up into the touch, only barely conscious of how needy he must look and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I wanted to see how far you'd let me go," he breathes, "I didn't think you'd actually let me do it."

"You're an arse," Jaskier huffs and Geralt grins at him.

Jaskier doesn't know what he's supposed to do here. This is a side of Geralt he's never seen before and he's not sure how far he'd actually take it. Geralt moves closer, kneeling between Jaskier's thighs and it's all Jaskier can do not to lose control right there. Geralt's breath dusts over his jaw and Jaskier lets a soft moan slip out as he shuts his eyes.

"You didn't think I'd just leave you like this, did you?"

Everything in Jaskier's head comes to a screeching halt and before he can even consider whether or not that means what it sounds like it means, Geralt's hands are on his trousers, working them open and slipping inside. Steady fingers curl slowly around him and Jaskier loses control of his body in an instant. A sharp whine slips, unbidden, from his throat and his hips snap forward against Geralt's hand.

Fuck, he doesn't even remember the last time he was this turned on.

"What was it," Geralt asks, sliding his hand maddeningly slowly against Jaskier's cock, "that got you so worked up - the rope or the gag?"

"Both," he whimpers, "and the uh- manhandling."

"Hmm. I was just trying to make it seem realistic."

"Mission- ah!accomplished."

Geralt shifts to sit on the grass and with one quick motion gets both arms around Jaskier's waist and tugs him into his lap. Jaskier shuffles forward, encouraged by the way Geralt's hands slip to his ass, squeezing almost playfully. Jaskier tips his head up and Geralt catches his mouth in a rough kiss, nearly dislodging him in his enthusiasm.

Jaskier's head swims. He's never known Geralt to be so forward with anyone, much less with him, and the thought of it makes him impossibly harder. He aches for Geralt's touch again, rolls his hips forward encouragingly but Geralt's hands remain firmly in place, pulling him in closer. Here, Jaskier is pressed right against him, can feel the firm lines of his chest and the surprising press of Geralt's cock, thick and hard where it fits up against his own.

"And what about you?" Jaskier tries, feeling much more suave than he sounds, "what's got you so hot and bothered."

One of Geralt's hands slips up his back, right up his neck and into his hair, pulling his face right up against his own. Their noses bump together and Jaskier can feel Geralt's breath against hi, and then they're falling, dropping back into the grass beneath them.

"Just you," he breathes and Jaskier feels like he could combust. Geralt keeps a hand on him, rocking up against him and gods, he feels incredible. Geralt mumbles something against his lips that Jaskier doesn't quite catch and then Geralt is reaching between them, tugging his trousers open and pushing them down.

Jaskier rises up as his cock slips free and he finds himself staring, unable to look away. His lip is trapped between his teeth and Geralt reaches up, gently freeing it and running his thumb along the sensitive flesh. Geralt tugs him forward, grinding up against him and Jaskier drops his head against his shoulder, hips shifting quickly.

"Should I untie you?" Geralt breathes and Jaskier nods enthusiastically, pressing his forehead into Geralt's skin.

"Please," he groans, "I want to touch you."

Geralt doesn't move, but reaches around, fumbling with the rope as Jaskier kisses him again. As soon as he's free, he gets one hand on Geralt's face, sliding the other up through his hair, groaning as Geralt rolls him onto his back.

He should probably be more concerned about the Nilfgaardian camp only a few hundred meters away, but all he can think about is Geralt's cock against his own, his hands, his mouth.

Jaskier comes with his legs wrapped around Geralt's hips, completely entangled and the sky darkens above them. He doesn't move for a long time afterward and Geralt kisses his neck, slides a hand up under his shirt to brush his fingers over Jaskier's skin.

When he finally settles, he rolls onto his back, tugging Jaskier up against his side.

"Yen's gonna be pissed," he mumbles, tipping his head to press a kiss to Jaskier's temple.

"A small price to pay."

#geraskier #october prompts 2k20 #rex writes #the witcher

[ollieofthebeholder]

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant  forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.”  Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she���ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg) #sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

[syubub]

Rae I was hoping you could do a reading (nothing grand, it can be small) on BTS’ (each member’s individual) current post-Grammy energy? The past 24 hours have been a rollercoaster of emotions. I noticed a lot in their demeanors on both their vlive, and reaction to the loss they posted on Twitter. I have my own analysis and observations, but all that mostly comes from a psychological/logical pov. I want your take on the spiritual side and most importantly your thoughts on what the cameras won’t show us and what the members would probably never vocally/publicaly express (since bless their hearts, they’re such humble people). — 💼

That's such a great ask 💼 anon! I love the idea and I have to do it right now bc I need to know lol

bts post-grammy energy reading

Disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes and not to be taken as fact. This is only my personal interpretation!

So first off we have the energy of the group.

The 6 of coins, the magician, ten of wands reversed.

Starting with the 6 of coins

This to me feels like they are happy to have preformed and likely feel very loved.

Like they're happy to have shown their talents to the world and spread some joy and love

The card itself Is a lot about give and take and sharing and I think they feel that with army

The kind of solidarity and appreciation of eachother

With the magician (this came up in pre grammy read too) it feels like the determination and drive to succeed. They probably are feeling motivated to come back again stronger.

I see this too as bts not holding back and doing what they feel they have to do (I'm excited for what it could be)

Then we have 10 of wands reversed

This talks about feeling relief about being able to release a burden

This makes a lot of sense

In a way they were kinda carrying A LOT on their backs with this grammy nom

And for it to be over I think now they can catch their breaths

Seokjin

Knight of wands.

This is so very him.

Passion, inspired action, energy.

It's the "pushing foward bc I have a thing that I'm going to do" energy

I see this as him being fired up and like "Okay so this is how we can do this and next time this will happen and we can do this as well"

Very much no time to dwell

It's the confidence and belief in himself and the group and their goals

Like he took his time to be be angry, sad, mad and whatever but I don't think it was at not winning. It was all the other stuff

And now hes ready to continue and push through

He could have a million ideas in his head rn

The knight of wands is one of my absolute favorite cards

It's also associated with sagittarius so maybe I'm just a bit biased lol

Renewed energy and passion

Love it

Yoongi

YOONGI

It's in caps bc im yelling

Ace of cups

You absolute pain

Yes this card can be about love

In this context though I see it as creativity

Ace is always the start of things.

The ace of cups is an emotional beginning

The beginning of a new creative project fuled by emotions and your emotions about your experiences

Yall

Yoongi is writing and making stuff and this might just be the new project that takes them to the grammys and win them the trophies

Yoongi had a planned we should always listen carefully to his words.

He technically said a 2021 grammy preformance and 2022 grammy win...

Ugh

Essentially I think that whatever project comes from the emotions of this time will be extremely significant for them

Maybe we'll get a song or album that talks about the shit they go through with interlude: FUCK YOU AND YOUR BULLSHIT

I hope we get swearing...

Probably not bc in true bangtan fashion they can form their emotions and experience into beautiful metaphors.

To sum up I think yoobi kinda knew what would happen so he sees it as an opportunity to take the emotions/creativity and create a very special thing(again, is he consciously aware of this shit??)

Hoseok

Wheel of fortune reverse

Hobi :(

Dissapointment and misfortune

It's that "the whole world is against me" feeling

I bet he was extremely excited and it was just an emotional blow to him

I think he probably can't help but be hard on himself

Like, "if we did this better" or "we should have done this"

But he knows that it's not his fault. It's just hard not to question yourself

It's feeling like they just can't catch a break

With this card though I feel like there's also an energy of no longer feeling like they have to "play the game"

Breaking the cycle

I think dynamite served 2 purposes

1. To bring joy and some sense of normality to a mid pandemic world

And 2. To play the game by its rules. Everything according to the book

Kinda an experiment

And to see that even doing everything right and excelling at the game didn't really change the scammys mind

Theirs freedom there

They did it the grammys way

And now they'll do it the bangtan way

Bc they've learned

Maybe they'll try another English song but it will be more them

Namjoon

Seven of cups

This card...

The first thing I want to talk about is illusion

The idea that an option you pick has a whole lot of things hiding behind the surface and it's not what it first looked to be

Being hyped up by the grammys and having a bunch of interviews and stuff only to be used

I think namjoon is dealing with that extra hard because as a leader I think he has this idea that he's ment to protect his members

I think he feels a bit like, "I should have seen this coming and been more careful"

Stuff like that.

When joon said "I told you" after they announced the winner

I feel like he told them that it was un likely bc the closer and closer it got he kinda started to see things for what they really were

I think too that joon is trying to decide where to go from here

Do they try a new English song?

Do they say fuck it and make a metal album?

Do they make an album focusing on the positives?

Do they make an album talking about the negatives?

Do they mix a bunch of ideas together?

Do they go back to their roots?

Very many options and namjoon is trying to choose the best one

However.

Everything has an upside and a downside

Jimin

Chim chim

The hermit

Soul searching and introspection

Listening to yourself

I think jimin might feel a bit down

Like, he needs time to re evaluate

I think jimin tends to base his worth on some external factors and he might have put a lot of his own worth on this situation

So now he has to go back and remind himself that this doesn't define him and that his value has nothing to do with the grammys or how others view him

Like hobi he might be bit hard on himself rn

But the hermit is such a powerful card bc you find yourself in the soul searching and you can asses how to move foward

I think also the hermit might also symbolize feeling shut out of the music industry and maybe too a bit of shame about not winning

JIMIM :'(

Taehyung

Ha

The high priestess

This whole situation did not pass his vibe check in the first place

I think he probably knew

Maybe his angel told him or he subconsciously knew

Very much trusting his intuition and will probably be using that to guide him going foward in what he will do with this situation

Creating and being vulnerable and open is important

Anything that has to do with intuition and creativity and empathy

He's probably also comforting jimin in preticular rn

He's also probably thinking about how to comfort us

(Maybe he's working extra hard to push the mixtape foward in order to comfort us)

(( we are trying to comfort YOU. You don't need to comfort us!!))

Regardless

It's a very intresting energy and it makes sense lol

Jungkook

The hanged man

Koo

A pause to re evaluate

Similar to jimin in that this is a time to reflect and to do some soul searching

Taking the time to see things from a new perspective that is desperately needed for him

Some new and important thing might be on the horizon (see yoongis reading) and he will be able to see it and see its potential because he's taking time to just

Exist

Gather his thoughts so that he can know what he's feeling and take that

Morph it into something beautiful

And use that to move foward with a new perspective.

I think also this could indicate feeling like this is a hurdle they can't get over.

Stuck where they are bc the obstacles are insurmountable.

Another interpretation is being made an example of publicly?

Like he might feel like they failed publicly and that it hurt rather than helped south Korea as a whole?

But overall feeling like he needs that new perspective and taking this as an opertunity to find that!

I hope this kinda makes sense! I only pulled one card bc I think they're all feeling A LOT of things and I wanted to focus on the main theme.

It's a lot more positive than I thought but that's bts for you, always looking to grow and learn and create. I'm really interested to see what kind of songs come from this emotional influx! I think it definitely differs some from what they've shown so I'm curious how this energy manifests for them!

#💼anon #bts #bts tarot #seokjinnie #seokjin #jin #suga #min suga #yoongi #hoseok #jhope #hobi #namjoon #rm #jimin #park jimin #taehyung #v #tae tae #jungkook #kookie #jk #bts reactions #bts imagines

[thebountyfucker]

The Royal Affair - A Choose Your Own Prince Fic

18+ ONLY - NSFW

I wanted to try an experiment where I wrote a story with two parallel branches so readers could choose which character they wanted to read without me writing two separate fics! Let me know what you think! (Subject to more parts!)

Embo x AFAB!Reader or Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader

Tags/CW: Threats of violence/assault, embarrassment

Here's the link to my masterpost!

Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's my taglist application!!

You eased up to the table, smiling despite yourself, and bowed your head. You didn’t say anything to them, as per the instructions from your boss, and carefully handed out the flutes of champagne. The royals prattled on in Durese, hardly paying you any mind, though the Prince did cast a glance up at you from the periphery of his vision. You bowed your head once more, and turned to leave.

-

You had never been more nervous in your life than you were now; with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in your hand, and the heel on your left shoe coming loose, you had to put the entirety of your focus onto your task at hand. It was a simple one, really - deliver the drinks to the Duros royal family, bow, and return back to the kitchen to fetch hors d'oeuvres. Simple. Easy. Yet the wobbling in your ankle frightened you. The last thing you needed was to drop the crystal flutes in front of everyone - or worse, on someone.

As you turned, you heard a loud snap, and your ankle buckled and rolled; you went down, your tray clattering to the floor. Conversations around you stopped, and the gazes of three royal families found you collapsed on the floor. A horrified blush crept up on your cheeks as you crawled toward your tray and gathered it up in your arms; you pulled off your shoes and slowly stood, pain blossoming from your ankle. You limped to the back room, and tossed your shoes straight into the garbage.

“What happened to you?” One of your coworkers, a pretty Rutian Twi’lek, asked, glancing down at your now bare feet and rapidly-swelling ankle.

“My fucking heel broke!”

“Oof, tough luck.” She shook her head as she kneeled down and prodded at your ankle. The pain was horrendous, but she didn’t look concerned. “It ain’t broken… I’ll see if I can get a wrap and some new shoes for you.”

“Thank you, Salicia.” You muttered as you sat down, propping your leg up on the seat beside you. Your other coworkers came and went, taking out drinks and snacks, and coming back with dishes and trash. They hardly spared you a glance. There was work to be done and attending to the weak link would only slow it down. You sighed softly as Salicia returned with a bandage and a pair of silken flats.

She sat beside you, gingerly lifting your leg to wrap your ankle. She was gentle, and the pressure of the bandage made it feel instantaneously better. When she had secured it in place, she handed you the pair of flats; colored a vibrant blue, the flats sported a winged lizard embroidered on each of the sides. The slippers clashed with your uniform, but it was better than nothing; you eased them on, and cast Salicia a glance.

“Queen Esmera gave these to me when she saw me asking the other girls. She saw you fall, said these would probably be more comfortable than anything we could offer.” She explained, her lekku tips curling up as she shrugged. “I think she may be fishing for a thank you… so… you might want to go out and tell her.”

“Alright.” You sighed as you stood and brought your tray back to the bar; the bartender noted you with a frown, but knew better than to say anything. “Can you get me seven glasses of your most expensive Phatrongi red? You can… add it to the party’s tab.”

“Did Queen Esmera give you those?” He asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. You glanced down at your shoes and nodded.

“Yep.”

“I suppose the wine is a ‘thank you’ to her.” He muttered, waiting for your nod, before continuing. “And you’re stroking her ego because…?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, I guess.” You shrugged, and he shook his head as he poured the thick, purple wine into the glasses.

“Yeah. Polite. And then they turn around and treat you like trash.”

“They’ve been nice to me so far.” You muttered as he helped stack the seven glasses of red wine onto your tray. Your departure toward Queen Esmera’s table was slow-going, as you didn’t want to risk tripping or putting undue stress on your ankle. Your coworkers were careful about not bumping into you, but there were a few close calls.

You made your way toward the Kyuzan Queen, careful to stand a distance away in case she turned her head to regard you; her ostentatious crown, constructed of metals and jewels and silken cloths, was large enough that it could sweep the wine right off your tray. That was the last thing you wanted.

She did, in fact, turn when she noticed you, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as her crown cleared your tray. She offered you a kind, mask-less smile, and you bowed your head respectfully in response.

“Thank you for your kindne-.”

And then it happened. You took a few step closer and the slippers caught on something - likely the queen’s dress. You tripped, and the tray of wine went flying; the wine splashed upon the Queen’s lap and onto the table. The princes and the King jumped back from the table as the wine spread out toward them. Your heart plummeted to the bottom of your chest, and you dropped to your knees at her side.

“I am so sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes. Salicia rushed over with towels, much sooner than you expected, and thrust one at you; she mopped up the table, apologizing to the princes, while you gingerly dabbed at the Queen’s dress. The red wine marred her white and gold gown, and you knew that the stain would never come out. “Please forgive me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

The Queen gingerly patted your head as you dabbed at her gown; the weight of her ring-covered hand was rather comforting, and it did make you feel quite a bit better.

“There, there, Little One.” Her voice was honeyed and velvet-smooth, yet there was an imposing timbre deep beneath it, as if she knew and reveled in the power she had in this situation. “It was an accident, and these things happen. It is okay.”

“It is not okay!” The King’s booming voice startled you from the calmed stupor the Queen had put you in. Your gaze focused on the Queen’s dress as the party hall went quiet. “This insolent worm ruined your dress!”

“There is no reason to be upset. What is done is done.” Queen Esmera continued to pat your head reassuringly.

“There must be recompense!”

“Enough. You are causing a scene.” Her voice was even and steely, and her husband eased back down into his chair. The waves of rage radiating off the king made your skin crawl - he was one of those kings where the rumors of his temper far outshined any good he had done. There were numerous stories about girls being used and thrown in ditches after minor misdeeds. You hoped your employer would protect you from the likes of him… but that was no certainty. “The dress is ruined. I will call for a maid to bring me another.”

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, and she tilted your chin up.

“That is enough, Little One. Now run along, okay?” She smiled sweetly, and you got up with your metaphorical tail between your legs. You limped back to the staging room, where you found a bench and collapsed onto it. Tears threatened to spill over, but you rubbed them away with the heels of your hands. You felt so foolish, so demeaned. The worst part of this, though, was that it was all your fault. No royal had made you spill the wine. No royal purposefully tripped you, nor did they break the heel from your shoe. It was your own insolence. You buried your head in your hands, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

Someone sat down on the bench beside you. You figured it was Salicia, until you noticed their scent - it was woodsy and entirely manish. You couldn’t think of anyone you knew who smelled like that. Curious, you spread your fingers open and peeked through them; sitting beside you was one of the Kyuzan Princes - the youngest of the four, whose name, you believed, was Embo. He cast you a glance, his browridge cocked.

“Oh! Uh…” You wiped your eyes on your hands, and then wiped your hands on your skirt. “Hello there, Prince.”

“You are in trouble.” He spoke, his voice unwavering and deeply serious. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach dropped.

“W-what?”

“My father is like a jungle cat chasing a rat. In his eyes, you wronged him, and he will not rest until you pay the price.” He explained, his voice low and conspiratory.

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” You squeaked.

“You embarrassed him, and my mother. He believes you made fools of them both before our allies.” Embo explained, his hands laced together and resting on his lap. “I came to offer my help. The last thing I want is for someone undeserving to be left in a ditch to die.”

“But you’re his son. How can I trust you?”

“Just know that I would rather see him dead than let any harm come to you.” He replied, his gold eyes narrowed and a small growl rumbling in his chest. You blinked at him, and then looked down at your hands. “And he knows better than to touch anything I lay claim to. If I tell him you are under my protection, he will not dare bother you.”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. My family keeps a large staff already. We would hardly notice one more.”

Your gaze remained on your hands, your mind running a million miles a minute. If you didn’t take the Prince’s protection, what would happen to you? Would the king stoop to harming you? It seemed that if his own son was worried, the answer was likely yes. So it would be best to go with the prince then. What if he was lying? What if this was all some elaborate ruse to get you into bed with him, or worse?

“I’ll… need time to think.” You replied, your voice shaking.

“Of course. You have until the end of the night.” He got up, dusting off his expensive suit, and disappeared through the door which led back out to the main hall.

You sat there, still trying to process what was going on; the staff around you stared at you, either concerned or shocked that you had gotten so close to the Prince without mention of sexual activities. You glanced at them, before standing.

“I… I need to take a walk.”

No one stopped you as you slipped out the door into the main hall. The royals were all happily conversing, and you noted that Queen Esmera had, indeed, changed her dress. You ducked down the hallway to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air to help clear your head. Ugh, you had a headache.

The guards allowed you outside, and you sat down on the top step to gather your wits. The warm, humid Coruscant air caressed your bare skin, grounding you to reality. The ambience of the thousands of speeders and marching of armor-clad guards drowned out any sounds from the gala itself. You buried your head in your hands once more, just trying to think.

“You’ve got some shit luck tonight.”

You turned toward the intruder, noting that the Duros Prince was approaching; he had a lit cig between his fingers, and he took a long drag.

“First de heel, den sullying Queen Esmera’s dress…” He shook his head as he eased down onto the step beside you. He offered you the cig, but you declined. “What gods did ya anger?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shaking your head. Cad leaned back, perching the cig between his lips.

“I assume de big guy already warned ya?”

“About his dad? Yeah.” You answered, your worry rising again; it was one thing to hear about the danger from the King’s son… now you were hearing it from an unrelated royal? Great….

“Den ya know you’ll need t’ low ‘til he comes t’ his sense, right?”

You nodded at this. “Prince Embo offered to let me stay with him.”

“Did he now? Doesn’t seem quite safe t’ be going back to de same home as yer threat.” He mused as he took a drag of his cig. “I came t’ offer de same thing.”

“Why?” You asked, wary of Cad’s intentions.

“Well, King Triakt has no domain over me and my family. And messing wit’ us could end badly fer him.” Cad drawled as he plucked the cig from his lips and flicked the ashes off of the end.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t know ya but dat doesn’t mean I can’t extend some kindness.” He took a long drag of his cig.

“What’s the price?” You asked, watching his lips twitch into a small smirk.

“I don’ know yet. We’ll figure dat out as we go.” Cad smothered the cig beneath his boot. “Whaddya say?”

“I… need to think about it.”

“Sure, sure. When you make up yer mind, come find me.” He winked at you and stood, straightening out his outfit. He sauntered back inside, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Now, you just had to decide who to go with...

-

Who do you choose? Embo or Cad Bane

Tags List: @justanotherstarwarswhore, @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail

#embo #cad bane #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #iri writes #my fanfiction

[ladybirdwithoutdots]

why Emma 2020 changed the proposal scene a bit?

I understand why some book fans don't like Emma bringing up Harriet in the proposal scene because, yes, in the book she thinks keeping Harriet’s embarrassing secret is the only thing she can still do for her friend. I get it doesn’t seem so canon compliant for her to tell him there; pointing that up is valid because you are just noticing a major difference between the book and the movie, and it might even seem contradictory for Emma’s character that she does the very thing that in the book she doesn’t want to do for a valid reason. However, I also understand why the movie makes this choice, and I think this is a case in point of what it means 'adaptation' and a creative team having to reconcile with the big differences between a movie and a book when it comes to storytelling and story structure. One major difference between a book and a movie is that in a movie, they show what happens in the story from an outside perspective where canon is limited to and defined as, essentially, only what the characters make you see, and what they explicitly say. If something doesn’t happen on screen then it isn’t real in the story.   A novel, on the other hand, tells a story from an inside perspective and is allowed, through a narrator (the author or the protagonist or another character) to make the reader actually know more than the characters in the story may know in that moment. The problem with a movie adaptation of this book in particular is that you can't read Emma's thoughts in a movie, and a lot of things about this book are based on her thoughts and a ‘narrator’ who can help you understand the motives of the character beyond what the character is explicitly telling others in that moment. That’s why, among other things, this movie chooses to make Emma’s feelings for Mr Knigthley obvious (on her face, in her reactions, in her jealousy) for us from the beginning, and regardless when she realizes them herself, instead of reducing it all only to the scene where Harriet confesses loving him herself, and Emma realizes her own feelings for him through the obligatory explanation scene with flashbacks, voiceovers or an added conversation between her and another character (though you could say that the added moment here where Harriet realizes, and thus says that Emma loves Mr Knightley too might serve that same function still).

I think that with the infamous proposal scene and its on screen adaptations, there are, surprisingly, two ‘issues’ a creative team may face:

1) The first issue is that, in the book, Emma is torn between her relief and joy that Knightley loves her back, and her anguish about Harriet for she doesn't know how she is going to face her and tell her that the guy loves her..and that she loves him back.  She takes her time and actively avoids Harriet because she feels guilty and that, for a time, ruins her own happiness a bit.

Given how many things still happen in the book between Mr Knightley’s proposal and the wedding, and the fact it’s near impossible for the creative team to put everything in a movie, if you only see Emma being happy about his declaration of love there (as if she doesn’t know Harriet wants him too) and then them getting married, it might seem like almost erasing her feelings from the novel a bit and make it seems she doesn't feel guilty about Harriet, or doesn’t care about her being in love with Mr Knightley too. That would go against her character growth a bit for she'd look, once again, selfish and lacking empathy and critical thinking about herself.

Of course, if you read the book you also know that she does think harsh things about Harriet after the latter tells her that she loves Mr Knightley (and she thinks he wants her too). Emma regrets including her in her circle, she thinks she has turned her into arrogant, vain girl for thinking Mr Knightley would really marry someone like her. However, all of that isn’t mutually exclusive with the fact she also matures, she does see her own responsibilities and arrogance and she blames herself for Harriet’s inevitable humiliation (the second!).

Too long don’t read: book Emma cannot be indifferent about the fact Harriet wants Mr Knightley too, and she isn’t.

In light of that, it’s easy to see why Autumn de Wilde changed things a bit in the movie and, in a way, tried to still insert that part of Emma’s thoughts from the book that would be very hard to include without a narrator’s voice. It’s also a change consistent with their own version and the fact they try to make Emma a better friend in the end ...

Emma really kind of gets everything she wants in the end, and we thought a lot about watching the movie after she behaves so badly and has this epiphany and she’s totally different now,” de Wilde said. “We really felt like we would not be able to enjoy it unless we saw Harriet transformed by their rift.” The solution: pushing Emma to actively make things right with Harriet and her best suitor before Emma can accept a much-desired proposal of her own.

Indeed, you could say that Emma gets it easier in the book than in the movie because in the novel everything works in her favor without her having to face Harriet and make any personal effort to help her.

This movie, instead, wanted Emma to really earn her happy end a bit more, and called her out on her faults in the funniest way possible during the proposal scene, well emphasizing her state of mind and conflict through the infamous nosebleed, that also ruins her perfect, poised appearance symbolizing her humanity and the fact that no matter how much she tries, she can’t keep a false control of everything and always be ‘perfect’ (and the beauty of that metaphor also lies in the fact that Knightley isn’t one bit grossed by what is happening, he still tenderly touches her face, he’s all love and concern for her. He’s the one person who always loved her with her imperfections too, he won’t love her less just because she’s human).

By making Emma reveal Harriet’s mess to Mr Knightley in that moment, not only you have a version of the events that is consistent to this movie, you also have an Emma that, in some way, is still consistent to the Emma you also read in the book, albeit just in her thoughts. It also emphasizes Emma's character growth all the more.

For sure, I agree with de Wilde about that. That said, if I want to play devil's advocate here I have to say that while Emma gets it easier in the book, their version kind of erases Harriet/Robert’s agency a bit for I prefer them finding their way back to each other (in the book) without any interference. I also maintain their ‘let’s do better for poor victim Harriet’ myopia results in them not really making Harriet act as a real friend for Emma, not even in the end, leaving their relationship very unbalanced simply because they didn’t realize that their Harriet, even more than her book counterpart, was wrong too and she too had to make amends and apologize for her own blindness about Emma’s feelings, and her selfishness and uncalled for anger when she realized Emma loved the same guy she wanted for herself. This is what happens when you have critical thinking about your main character, but not so much about the secondary ones; creative teams often forget that just because someone is the protagonist (and they get the happy end) and they may be wrong about something, it doesn’t mean they are wrong about everything.  I honestly feel really bad for Emma in that ‘I refused Robert Martin because of you’ scene in the movie because it really is the one moment where she is doing nothing wrong, and Harriet has no right making her feel like she’s the bad guy for loving a guy she had know since forever just because her ‘friend’ had decided she wanted him and deluded herself he wanted her too. If that scene is supposed to make me feel bad for Harriet they failed because it makes me find her annoying.  Maybe it’s personal experiences too for I well know what it means when you think you have a friend, but in reality that person doesn’t care about your feelings much, and just takes for granted that your purpose and your focus is just helping them. 

2) Another issue writers might find in adapting the confession scene from the book to a movie version is Mr Knightley's agency too.

Here’s the thing: her behavior in that scene is confusing to Mr Knightley for, in one moment she seems to not even want him to propose to her, but the next he understands that she loves him back. The poor man despaired, his heart broke when she seemed to reject him.

Austen, in her function of narrator, acknowledges this inconsistency in the book and she's like, yeah it must be very confusing for the guy but people rarely tell the whole truth to each other all the time and he's too happy in the end to ask himself why Emma acted so weird with him, and what matters the most is that he knows she loves him back and they can be finally together.

Still, he’s going to be all the more confused when, later, he tells her that Harriet has accepted Robert’s second proposal and where he expected Emma to be unhappy, given her oppositions to the guy before, he’s very surprised by her 180° and happiness for Harriet instead. He even says that.

Once again, I think if you are adapting the story for a movie where you don't have a narrator’s voice keeping the balance a bit and explaining what the characters can’t explain, it might seem like making this part of the story a bit unresolved for him (and him and Emma). It might not seem fully satisfying that he doesn't get an explanation and their misuranderstanding isn’t fully cleared up.

This movie resolves that by having Emma confess him that, basically, her confusing behavior was because she was scared he wanted to propose to another woman (because she loves him but she didn’t think it’s her he actually loved!), and then when he tells her that it's her he loves, she reciprocates but is also overwhelmed because there is still the issue of Harriet and it ruins her party in that moment because new Emma cannot be indifferent.

This Knightley can make sense of her behavior much better than in the book  and if he's still so happy in the end, it’s because he understands that Emma didn’t reject him for she actually loves him back, and in this version she needs to make amends with Harriet and Robert Martin before she can accept her own happy end. 

I also like what the director said about this scene, especially this point:

“I wanted to make that scene so romantic, and then just turn it on its head, because to say just like, they’re not perfect, they’re both just like a hot mess, and seeing Mr Knightley and Emma panic and try and solve a problem together is just as romantic as the proposal” 

you know what? I agree with her.

Let's be honest, btw, Emma trusts him. Book or movie, this is a fact. She may not tell him about Harriet there but I think even in the book’s canon, it’s not so impossible to imagine that one day, when it’s safe for her to because Harriet is happy with Robert etc, she may tell him the whole story to explain her behavior to him a bit more... and have a good laugh together about the absurdity of it all.

I shouldn’t need to say this but yeah, an adaptation doesn't 'replace' the book said adaptation is based on. It's not like this is the definitive story now. I just have no real issues with changes if there are reasons for them and they make sense with a particular version, and I don’t have issues with adaptations trying to find ways to include even those things that might actually be in the book too, but they seem impossible to convey in a movie. All things considered, this movie actually is one of the most faithful to the book and historically accurate adaptations of Austen ever made. When I watched it the first time, having read the book many times, I was really surprised by how much of the book’s text is included in this version and not really modernized or altered.

I maintain that this version of the proposal scene is as ‘valid’ as the others too. Given Austen doesn't write Emma's answer in that scene (you only know she makes him undestand in some way that she loves him back  and they agree to marry), it's fair to point up that all the adaptations had to create that part on their own to fill where novel doesn't tell you every detail (same thing with the dancing scene: Austen puts the proverbial fade to black there, and whether Emma and Knightley were overwhelmed by dancing together in the book, it is their business just like their honeymoon, or whether they make out during their  engagement...). Emma kissing him right there and then like it happens in other adaptations isn't a more likely scenario for a lady in regency era’s context than her getting a spontaneous nosebleed, just saying.  If anything, Austen’s depiction of her female characters was influenced by the fact that, at the time, while a man could be explicit and very emotional when declaring his feelings for  a woman, a lady had to keep her cool and couldn't tell a guy she loved him so men had to understand a woman recipricated them through their own subtle messages and codes. This isn't to say other adaptations are wrong for making them kiss there, and for adding more romance to that particular scene (just like it isn’t wrong for this adaptation to make the dance scene and what happens afterwards more emotionally charged than it usually is, and choose to also emphasize Emma’s own feelings for him a bit more), but it isn’t wrong for this adaptation to do something different and place a kiss in the other romantic scene instead (when he tells her he'll move to Hartfield) so that the romance isn’t resolved in his confession scene only.  Expecting all adaptations to be the same and interpret things in the same way means making things a tad too formulaic, tbh. And I don’t know why I should even want that. Personally, I like every version of that scene makes sense with their own adaptation, I don’t consider it a ‘flaw’ but a good thing.

I find it annoying when people reduce the love scene in this movie to the funny nosebleed thing only, anyway.  It seems like misrepresenting it a bit to pretend this adaptation is just silly things when it really isn’t like that (and even the nosebleed actually has a purpose for the director that is NOT ‘silly’ tbh).  Regardless the fact I actually like the whole scene including the funny twist in the end too, it’s still a romantic moment and his speech is actually delivered in a way that is very moving to me because Johnny Flynn makes the feelings of the character come across as so real on screen, and you can also see on Anya’s face (they are both crying!) all the confusion and love and amazement. I honestly have no complains about how the part that is written in the book, his speech, is delivered here because it’s really well done and the acting is on point. I really love the way they conveyed all the emotions on screen and I even felt like they conveyed some things about him better than previous versions.

#emma 2020 #emma #emma woodhouse #emma x knightley #mr knightley #long post

[ghostmartyr]

Are you still watching RWBY? What did you think of Volume 8 overall

VOLUME 9 NEVERLAND SAGA WHERE NO ONE CAN HIDE FROM THEIR TRAUMA OR THEIR FRIENDS BY TRYING TO STOP IRONWOOD FROM BLOWING UP HALF THE KINGDOM HE’S SUPPOSEDLY PROTECTING WHILE ALL THEIR OTHER FRIENDS AND ALLIES THINK THEY’RE DEAD.

POGCHAMP.

I enjoyed Volume 8, but I think it stumbles at the end enough to look back at its time management and feel not totally great about it.

Cinder’s development is solid. I’m still not very attached to her, but she has attained my interest at long last. Good for you, Cinder. Solve your emotional problems with murder. Kill Watts. Give Neo a reason to go back to trying to kill you. Make yet another mortal enemy. I support these actions.

Emerald’s flip means she won’t have sad eyes over all the atrocities she’s playing witness to while the timer goes down on her defection anymore, and that’s cool.

Ironwood’s everything is... well. Yeah. Great. Nothing like watch someone destroy themself. Oh, and everything else around them in the process. Once he got started, it was pretty clear where he was going, and that’s just sad. He goes from hugging Qrow and finding relief in his allies to shooting all of them. Shooting Jacques along the way does not even that out.

The Ace-Ops felt too cluttered for the final parts. They’re the cautionary tales, obviously, but I don’t think we get enough time detailing them for them to be on the same stage as Winter coming into her own and RWBY falling into oblivion. Qrow and Robyn get the slow burn and then the panicked call to immediate action, but for the Ace-Ops, Marrow and Harriet are the only ones who the narrative actively does something with. Marrow’s problems are obvious from the start, and Harriet’s emotional heat hints, and then reveals, a depth of trauma that this system has been crap at handling. But Vine and Elm, the critical pieces in talking her down, and centerpieces of keeping Mantle from blowing up, aren’t prominent enough in the narrative for their place in its resolution to feel quite earned. I think if we’d gotten an extra episode it would have worked a little better. As it was, I was left wanting more focus on the central cast.

Which is kind of why I’m so thrilled that RWBY+J are maybe stuck spending some quality time together. The macro plot matters, obviously, but they’ve been moving so fast. Atlas feels like a speedrun of a kingdom falling, and a little more interplay between my faves would be very welcome.

Then there’s the obvious.

Oh, Penny.

I can’t feel good about Penny’s handling in the end.

The Winter Maiden, as soon as we’re introduced, is waiting to die and offer her power to the next one in line. Winter was intended for that, but Penny interrupts.

Two days later, Winter has the power, and Penny’s dead.

This is necessary so that Winter has time to center what she actually believes before she’s upgraded to demigodhood. Winter as the Winter Maiden leading into Volume 8 would have kept her on Ironwood’s script. The disruption of expectations that leaves her vulnerable forces her to respond to what is going on, not what her side believes should be going on.

It makes sense to delay Winter’s ascension, because it gives Winter perspective that she can’t access as long as she’s in her chain of established command.

Making Penny’s value tie entirely back to supporting someone else’s story. She’s allowed to be a real girl, she’s allowed to fight for what she believes in, she’s allowed to have friends, but becoming the Winter Maiden serves Winter’s storyline more than it serves Penny’s.

Which isn’t to say they do nothing with her. Obviously, the virus making the vault look good creates a variety of opportunities. Sure, they could have filled in another domino without Penny specifically, but she’s an instrumental part of getting them inside that vault in how the story goes.

Creating a new body for her is a complicated thing. Penny’s a real girl no matter what her form is, but if you say that while cutting out the nuts and bolts -- it’s a little mixed. In the most benign way I can put my preferences, I like Penny being a robot. I’m thrilled she knows how warm a hug can feel (Pietro, patch notes, get on it), but...

Before Watts causes problems on purpose, Penny shows a little hesitance about not being your standard model of girl, but unless I’ve been worse about my watching comprehension than I thought, she doesn’t have any burning need for flesh. Changing her body is the best solution they can up with in response to her agency being violated.

It’s not my favorite thing in the world. I don’t think it’s entirely good faith to pin all of the possible unfortunate implications on it, but they exist, and they are there. And on the flip side, being granted a body that is created through nothing but who you are is a sentiment that I’m sure resonates with a lot of people. I think there’s a lot to observe in what Penny’s going through, and it’s worth discussion more than angry words.

Except before there’s a chance to collect opinion polls on that, we once again have her asking for death before she hurts her friends.

I believe there’s a post on LotR somewhere that explains why people are okay with it being a mood shift from The Hobbit. People aren’t huge fans of media they consume invalidating media they previously invested in.

Penny dies, then she comes back. Then she dies.

Penny interrupts the inevitability of Winter becoming the Winter Maiden. Then Winter becomes the Winter Maiden.

It feels like a zero sum game, but a zero sum game where our emotions were torqued around for the sake of it, and the object of said torquing is being utilized as a plot object prior to being a character.

Penny obviously has a lot of personality, and a lot of established emotional ties. She’s not just a lamp standing in a corner.

But to use the apt metaphor, you can see the strings. Penny’s trajectory seems to be moving under its own velocity -- but then that ending hits. Despite going through all of the steps to make sure that Penny doesn’t have to sacrifice herself to keep the people she loves safe, despite actually being really creative and clever about doing everything possible to keep her alive --

The plot demands her death.

It isn’t good enough to fix the pressing issue that made sacrifice look good. Sacrifice is still the ultimate answer.

Thematically, that doesn’t jive with the story we’ve been getting.

Emotionally, what the fuck, could we not.

(What’s better than the cute robot girl begging for death? Doing it twice!)

People who are in a more optimistic state about fiction at the moment have noted that Pinocchio does do a lot of dying, and I do like the read of Penny as Jiminy Cricket. Considering the full context of the world, there’s more to justify a return than a lot of characters get. It wouldn’t be the most shocking thing ever.

It’s still kind of fucked up. Penny doesn’t kill herself, but she asks others to kill her, and that’s her being a good girl.

The National Suicide Hotline gets its number placed in the summary of the episode.

Obviously there’s more to it than that, but the implications are there, and a very painful thorn when looking over the rest of her. Creating an environment where it makes sense for this character to kill themself, it’s noble, even --

I don’t think that’s a route of story that the available material handles gracefully.

It’s the “twice” that really hammers the point down into the coffin. It creates a pattern of behavior in Penny. Once, and okay. Heroic sacrifice plays are always a major source of drama, exemplifying how Good the person making the sacrifice is, and how Tragic it is that we’re losing such a good person, all because they have principles and just love these other people so much.

Only if you have a character asking someone to kill them twice in relatively quick succession, the callback isn’t to feats of heroics. It’s suicidal tendencies.

If you’re not prepared to deal with implications of that magnitude, you’ve got to make the link a lot less suggestive. Otherwise you’re telling a new story whether you like it or not, and it’s not one you’re ready for, drastically upping the odds that it’s not going to be the most polished thing ever.

What the issue becomes then, in my personal opinion, is pacing (’hey self why is the answer always pacing’ ‘because shut up’). Penny’s joy of life is a blip in between her asking for death. The heroic nature of her desire for death mixed with the awful despair of her actual death makes this endpoint of her story saturated with a darkness that sours the entire experience.

Complicating it further is the issue of trust.

The writers killed her and brought her back just to kill her again. If they do bring her back again, the faith is kind of broken. Once you show that you’re willing to move a character around like a piece on a chessboard, your audience isn’t going to trust the story enough to invest. They’re going to be looking for the strings. For a complicated special effect that takes a lot of strings, that’s a pain, because the agreement with stories is supposed to be that yes, there are strings, that’s our medium.

If you don’t trust the writers, you are not going to believe in the story.

For my personal taste, if the writers are doing something more with Penny, their presentation has made it difficult for me to see value in the journey, even if the destination happens to be something I ultimately approve of.

Anyway Robyn needs to officially adopt Qrow. He has been a bad guy bandit, now he can be a good guy bandit.

He can be the Happy Huntresses’ cute animal mascot.

That is all that matters.

That is my one, solitary thought on the entire volume.

Thanks for the ask!

#RWBY #fndm asks #why is all my meta about suicide

[novantinuum]

Shattering Atlas (a corrupted!Steven one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depression and body horror)

Words: 4.2K~

Summary: A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

Folks, here it is! I’m finally finished. AO3 link to be posted in the reblogs.

Disclaimer: This is absolutely far darker and more drastic than I believe canon would EVER tread if this theory had the faintest chance of being anywhere close to the truth, but sometimes you just feel like being super angsty for angst's sake, y'feel? It was an interesting writing experiment nonetheless. Not gonna lie, this is kinda a vent piece. Please do heed those tags. This delves into some difficult territory both mentally and otherwise, as it's written entirely from Steven's POV.

_____

Steven knows he’s messed-up.

It’s not something he tries to advertise to all the sweet, innocent people who somehow after all this time still choose to stand by his side, but he can’t lie to himself. Spending a significant chunk of your childhood actively doubting your own personhood shatters you in ways no amount of unconditional love can ever hope to mend. And sure, he’s not his mom. He knows that. Been there, had the mental breakdown, seen it, done it. The proof’s in his gem half. He knows. But as much as everyone in his life coddles him, gently tries to reassure him while he tirelessly works day and night to realign the foundation of an entire ancient civilization...

“You’re almost an adult now, isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t worry about the future, the futures I see for you are as limitless as they are bright.”

“Take a break if you need to, ‘kay? You totally deserve one, little man.”

“Y’know, Schtu-ball, the wonderful thing about adulthood is that you can choose to fly wherever the wind takes you!”

...it’s clear none of that matters anyways. Because it’s not true, not for him. Because beyond his identity as a Crystal Gem, beyond that bottomless desire for belonging he’s been chasing all his life, ever since the fateful moment early in his childhood in which he finally realized— small, pudgy hands clutching at the oversized hand-me-down shirt right over the pink hand-me-down gem in his belly— that he isn’t like anyone else and never will be, the truth is that he genuinely doesn’t know what he wants. Who he is.

Everyone else does.

Connie has plans. Hopes, dreams. A future. She’s already thinking about college, and aims on double majoring in political science and environmental science. (A combination only she’s daring enough to pursue, but if anyone’s got the drive to succeed in that it’s her.) Dad’s still manager for Sadie Killer and the Suspects, and they’re going strong. Amethyst has been playing tour guide to all her fellow Prime sisters lately, galavanting with them all around planet Earth. Garnet is currently on the search for terrified cross-fusion Gems still in hiding across the galaxy. Pearl, Bismuth, and a number of the boardies have spearheaded a campaign to help slowly teach and integrate the humans of the Zoo into modern day society. Lapis and Peridot recently built another barn in the outskirts of Little Homeworld, and are enjoying each other’s company.

But him? When all is said and done, as the restructured Gem society stabilizes and soon no one will need him for anything anymore, when Gems and humans alike stop knocking on his metaphoric door with handfuls of their problems for him to drop everything and solve, he has nothing left. He’s no one. No future, no clue. He’s been drained empty.

He’s just drifting through life with the parking break on, continuously waiting— his nerves jittering at every quiet moment— for the next big crisis to crash into his universe and drop feed him even the tinniest shard of purpose.

After all, what is one to do when they’ve spent their entire life training to save the world, but the world has already been saved?

_____

He can’t recall exactly when his current predicament began anymore.

Time’s been hard to keep track of as of late— the days and weeks blending together in an incomprehensible fashion— and yet simultaneously, he might as well have lived a lifetime in the span of the blink of an eye. That being said, he’s pretty sure his most recent gem troubles didn’t truly kick into gear until after the incident with the, erm... cactus monstrosities.

He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he didn’t. He only wanted to help... to heal. To try and repair but a shred of the damage Homeworld wrought on this innocent world. It worked when Earth was poisoned, so it should work in the Kindergartens too, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

His stomach churns as he catches a glimpse of a silly photo of Peridot and himself hanging on the wall by the stairs. A static monument to his shame. Lapis is (still, days later— or is it weeks?) taking care of her gemstone at this very moment, sure, but remembering what happened before that... holding Peridot’s cracked gem in his quivering hands, biting back cries of hopelessness as he ran to the nearest warp pad, escaping from the malformed, hurting creatures born of his own magic... it‘s the kind of horror that he’s sure will linger in his dreams for a long time yet.

It’s like he’s broken. Like his powers just aren’t coming as naturally to him anymore. It’s not quite like that time with the rejuvenator. There’s no sickly glow flickering in and out of existence. No external force acting upon it. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s not a gem sourced problem, it’s him. He’s just... wrong. He’ll try to use his healing ability and it’ll backfire, he’ll summon his bubbles and shields but they’re noticeably less durable, he’ll birth life from his very soul and it’ll grow bitter and corrupt, every bit a mirror of his present mental state. He’ll jump up high in the sky to burn out years of repressed stress in semi-peace and before he can actually do so gravity will grab ahold of him like he’s a petulant, disobedient child and drag him back to the shore. It makes him want to scream, to grind his fingers into the sand so hard his knuckles go white as he sobs out every last one of his stupid, meaningless frustrations, but instead his house is always swarming with people, and his bedroom has no real door, (and he’s too embarrassed to ask for one), and in sum he can never find enough time alone to freely be his genuine messed-up self. It’s fine, though. He doubts he’s capable of crying at this point anyways.

“Dude, you okay?” Amethyst asks with brows furrowed in concern, snapping him back to reality.

His GameStation controller rests precariously in his loose grasp, entirely forgotten in the previous moment. The game they’re playing is paused. He must have blanked out again, and completely ruined their co-op fight. He lets out a shaky breath as he tightens his fingers around the plastic grips, digging into them as if they’re his sole handle on reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says swiftly, plastering a smile on his face with the ease of someone who’s been growing adept at this endless charade for months and months. “Didn’t sleep too well last night. Muscle cramps from training, y’know?”

He watches her closely, catalogues every minute shift in her features. Her eyes narrow so slightly that anyone else might’ve missed it. But he doesn’t. He’s observant. He’s gotta be. It’s the only way he’s kept going for this long, the only way he can ensure no one else knows. They don’t need any more worry. Regardless, Amethyst’s lack of subtlety betrays her, because it’s clear she’s searching his expression and body language right back. His chest pounds. Hastily, he holds up the controller, feeling his face go pale under her scrutiny.

Geeze, how pathetic.

No matter how hard he tries to mask it, he‘s already falling apart.

“So... we gonna play another round, or?” Right as he says this, his stomach chooses to let out an inopportune gurgle. He bites at the insides of his cheeks, inwardly cursing at the bad timing.

It’s thankfully enough to divert Amethyst’s attention from... other matters, though.

“Yo. Ste-man. Your stomach’s straight up monologuing. Have you even eaten today?”

He dimly considers this as he tries not to focus on how empty and faint his body currently feels, mind turning to fuzz. “Uhh...”

She frowns, and promptly pulls herself to her feet. “Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a no. I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get us some cheese!” she declares bombastically, putting on a mock announcer voice.

He watches her leave his room, prancing downstairs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A faint huff of sheer relief passes through his nostrils. Absentmindedly, his thumbs jiggle the controller’s joystick, unable to strike the earlier image of Amethyst— concern engulfing her usually carefree self— from his mind. He really should be more careful about what he says. How he acts.

He honestly couldn’t live with himself if he slipped up and became yet another emotionally taxing problem for them to deal with. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl... all his family, his friends. They deserve peace. They deserve to be satisfied, they deserve their happily ever after. They certainly don’t deserve him, self-destructing all over the bright and shining future they’d won.

Or nearly shattering them.

Putting them in needless danger, danger that’s all his fault, because he’s broken.

His throat grows tight, airway constricted, images of black beady eyes, razor sharp fangs, and malformed limbs invading his thoughts, clawing away at insecurities long scabbed over until they ooze a bitter red. Peridot’s shrill yelp as she’s overtaken in an instant. That dreadful, immediately recognizable sound, a cracking Gem, seared onto his heart for the rest of time.

He... he can’t deny it anymore. His magic’s gone toxic. He’s toxic, bringing suffering and decay where once he brought healing. All his Gem powers are fading, maybe forever. And with them fading, he’ll soon be of no use to anyone, and when they realize why they faded they won’t want him around anyways, and y’know, it’s probably for the better they’ll have a concrete reason to finally push him away. He’s not stupid. He’s always known what an emotionally taxing strain he’s been on everyone, ever since the day Mom died for him to be born.

Steven grips the controller so hard that his fingers grow numb, mind stewing in the dark fantasies of what he’d like to do with himself when he’s left behind for good.

And then... his heart leaps in his throat as he dimly hears Amethyst begin to whisper to the others (they’re back? They’re back?? When did they return, why didn’t you notice them, how could you just miss—) downstairs.

“Y’guys,” he hears her say frantically, under her breath, “I think we really gotta talk with Steven. Something’s seriously wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“What, you mean to say he’s in danger? Garnet, do you see anything?”

“Hmm. I don’t foresee any external threats to Steven’s safety in the near future, but...”

“Amethyst, he’s clearly still upset about Peridot. And once she reforms in a few days, when she’s ready, he’ll be fine! Trust me.“

“No, trust me, I genuinely think this is more than just Peridot! It’s getting me super worried. He hasn’t been eating like he should, y’guys. I don’t think he’s showered in days. Sometimes it’s like he’s... I dunno, like, he isn’t even fully present. And y’know, thinking about it now? It’s been like this for a while. Since before all the cactus stuff.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not sure how we could—“

“We need to call Greg over,” Garnet interrupts Pearl, a new, thinly veiled panic rising in her voice. “Right now.”

His eyes stretch open wide.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no... Not here, not now, not— please, not now!

His breath hastens, his body outright shaking now. He curls tight into himself, the game controller dropping from his slackened fingers onto the floor as he clutches his knees to his chest. Sweat beads in droplets on his forehead. He outright yanks at his hair.

Amethyst, she can’t just waltz downstairs and!—

I don’t want to—

Peridot, getting cracked, I- it’s all my fault and she didn’t—

I- all of this- I’m so useless, careless, l- I’m losing my mind, what’s even wrong- why are you panicking!- I don’t—

T-they can’t know, they can’t know, they CAN’T—

He can’t fully bite back his cries as his gem flares burning hot, a rush of pure, unadulterated agony spiking through his hard light veins in an indescribably eternal split-second, the very experience of hypocrisy. Every single muscle in his body seizes. His ears ring, filled with a cacophonous clamor of sound that slashes through his mind with the deadly force of a long blade. Crippling. Debilitating. All-consuming. Hell. This is hell. Because then his head is pounding, and his limbs are all weak and shaky, and for a moment he’s bathed in a faint wash of pink, the glow enveloping him like his own corona of sickness as he succumbs to the pain he’s sequestered inside, bitterly festering for all these years.

Hell eventually recedes, both its note and its physical touch, but the dark clouds looming over his mind do not. Slowly, he loosens his grip on his curls, trying desperately to bring balance to his breathing. His ears are still ringing. His head is still cotton. Questions abound. For instance: what on Earth was that?? Stars, is something else wrong with his gem now, too? Thoroughly disorientated, he yanks up the hem of his shirt.

“Steven?!” Pearl calls frantically from downstairs, right as his trembling fingers gently trace the exposed facets of his gem. “Are you okay up there?”

He squints, features compressing in his sheer confusion. Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. No imperfections, no flickering light, nothing. So then what’s—

“Hey, Steven? Yo?? You, uh- maybe wanna come eat downstairs, or?”

A shudder runs clear through his form, starting from his gem and coursing outwards to the furthest extremities. He grits his teeth as he rides through the stabbing discomfort, clutching at his stomach. It’s like he’s about to vomit. Sure, so maybe he was really hungry before, and maybe that has a little to do with what he’s experiencing now, but... this... still doesn’t feel right. Spots swim in his vision as he glances down again.

And that’s when he sees it, slowly creeping across the skin of his bare forearm as clear as day.

It’s a patch of dull, pinkish hide. Not human skin, hide. He runs his index finger along its perimeter, all of reality screeching to a halt as his brain performs somersaults in a desperate last-ditch attempt to contextualize the information his eyes are sending him right now.

“What?” he whispers in disbelief, (even though he has a few terrifying theories), frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“I’m checking on him,” Garnet says, just loud enough that he knows for certain she intends him to hear. Solid footsteps creep across the floorboards, advancing towards the foot of the stairs.

It’s frankly impressive how fast a single stimulus can turn panic to outright paranoia.

He almost trips over himself diving to retrieve his jacket off the floor, forcing his arms through the sleeves faster than any of the Gems could ever summon their weapons. Hide it. Hide it away. They can’t see you, they can’t know you’re corru- NO! Stop.

Bathroom. He needs to get to the bathroom.

His bare feet solidly connect with the floor, toes curling inwards as he shudders again. A pulsing ache settles into the bones of his skull. Then a prickle at his neck. Reflexively, he slaps his hand against the affected locale. There’s another spot steadily growing there.

Alone, NOW.

The whole world’s spinning as he turns on his heels and flies across the length of his bedroom— sprinting past the TV, shoving past Garnet, who’s already halfway up the open stairwell, and leaping clear over the couch from midway down the last set of steps. (Everyone’s shouting in blind panic as he enters their sight. Fear. Needless, unwanted worry. Calling his name, calling for peace, but his ears are still ringing and their voices are overlapping and he can’t distinguish any of it.) When he reaches the bathroom his hand grips the knob so hard that the metal almost crumples under his force, and he swings himself through the doorway, slams it shut, and turns the lock with pink-splotched fingers faster than any one of the Gems can move to stop him.

For a split moment, things are okay. He’s alone. Moreover, he’s safe.

(But are you really?)

His head is pounding again, the pulsing at his temples soon coalescing into a constant inescapable misery. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he lets his forehead lull against the door. Flexes his knuckles, imagines the splotches disappearing from sight as easily as eye bags under makeup. He tries to calm his breathing in the meditative way Garnet once showed him. In for four counts... and out. In... and out. Come on, just ride it out, Universe. You’re a Gem- a diamond, for cripe’s sake! Control it. Conceal. Move on.

“Steven?!” Amethyst calls from outside. “Please talk to us, what’s goin’ on?”

"Whatever it is, you don't have to be alone!" Pearl adds. He doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's crying.

A renewed burst of panic spikes through his veins at this realization.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m fine!” he bites back on impulse.

“No, you’re NOT!” Amethyst hollers, and then... after a thoughtful pause, her tone softening: “I- I know you’re not.”

He stares down at his hands, brows threading together, watching as the patch of hide continues to inch across his skin. The genuine concern interlaced in every syllable of her speech is enough to make his gut churn with guilt.

“Steven, I... stars, I know you probably overheard me talking to everyone jus’ a second ago, and I know I probably betrayed every scrap of trust we ever had ‘coz of that, and I wanna say I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand aside and watch you treat yourself like garbage. Please, the door’s jammed. Let us in. We just wanna help!”

His lip quivers, despite himself. “I don’t need any help!” he insists, stubbornly pushing past the crack in his voice. “I’m just—“

He’s interrupted by a rush of crippling agony radiating upwards from his gem once more, the ache at either side of his head intensifying into three points. Hands rush to the site on automatic. Fingers grasping, searching. Discovering.

There’s something growing at his temples, he realizes with a rush of horror. Something hard, faceted. Disturbingly cold to the touch.

There’s no way to bite back his screams as the growths fully protrude, none at all, even with his mouth clamped shut, and even though he can’t see them he can sense their weight as they wind upwards and back, up and out of his curls, and he’s shaking, oh stars is he shaking, chest heaving up and down so hard he’s not sure he’ll ever be free of these awful tremors ever again, and— A hoarse sob forces its way to the surface as a third growth crowns his forehead. Trembling fingers scrape down the length of the door as he collapses to his knees, nails sharpening into gnarled talons as they sink further and further into the wood, carving through it like butter. He clenches his jaw back together so hard that with any greater pressure he might shatter his own teeth.

Still quite woozy under the threat of hyperventilation, he slowly turns his head. Extricates those dreadful claws from the door. Dares himself to look. Forcing himself back up to his feet, he gazes deep into the depths of the mirror. And as the creature trapped on the other side stares back through sickeningly pink irises— blotches of color steadily creeping up their jawline and across their cheek, inching to meet the base of those glistening crystalline horns— all known reality shatters into smithereens.

Not me, not me, not me, is the mantra he chants to himself like a prayer, stubbornly clinging to any vestige of normalcy as if this is all but a vivid nightmare he can stir awake from.

(As if deep down, a tiny, beaten-down part of himself still wants to believe he deserves a future too.)

But the darkness reflected in that mirror is following his every jerky, erratic movement as all the despair and guilt and self-hatred festering within continues to consume him like a matchstick to fire.

Not real. It’s not real! I don’t need help. I don’t need the Gems, they don’t need to know, I’m fine, I’m FINE, this isn’t corru - NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT! YOU CAN’T—

They’re yelling outside. Arguing, probably. (And true to form, Pearl‘s cries are the shrillest.) But he can’t be certain of anything anymore while smothered under the fog’s thickening surface, with the rest of the world relegated to mere static and stimuli. Not a word, not a clue. No way to know if it’s an argument about him or with him.

And in his mind their distress stands as yet another sign. Just another slice of proof that they truly are at their happiest without him, that his continued existence only serves as a complication. He can’t deny it anymore. He can’t lie, can’t tiptoe around the inevitable truth; like this, he’s nothing but a liability. A ticking time bomb, set to shatter everything and everyone in his path. Shaking like a leaf, he unfurls his fists, watching as the dull pink hide overtakes the last clear patches of flesh upon his misshapen, monstrous fingers.

They’re better off without you.

The passing seconds cease to exist as he convulses again, this time centralized at the base of the spinal column. He doubles over, leans into the pain. Rides it through vertebrae by vertebrae, raking his claws deep into the wood floor as a fifth limb emerges from where the spine left off, steadily lengthening— fortifying itself with jagged crystalline spikes as it grows ever longer. Its weight is entirely foreign, yet it shifts upon his slightest command. Panic overruling all logic once more, he thrashes about, the tail swinging across the bathroom counter like a whip. His toothbrush, comb, and other various toiletries he hasn't made use of in days clatter to the floor, abandoned.

R u n.

The thought rampages through his shattered soul like an avalanche. Yanks him by the horns. Consumes his mind and body like a trance. He has to escape from here, from the house, the Gems, has to run quick, before it’s too late and you can’t do anything more but wordlessly scream.

He doesn’t stop to question this impulse. Doesn’t stop to peer at that poor tortured creature in the mirror again. For a moment his claws struggle to grasp the crumpled door knob, fumbling in failure’s wake.

When he finally forces the door open, the whole world holds its breath.

Pearl’s eyes blow wide upon the no-doubt horrifying sight. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Steven?!”

Even Amethyst reacts in an adverse manner, stepping back towards the support of the wall. “Holy...” she breathes, face paling.

And just knowing he’s out here now, every gnarled, nightmarish feature exposed in front of his family like a raw nerve, makes his blotchy, spot-covered skin crawl.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’m FINE!” he hollers as he sprints to the warp pad, barbed tail whipping wildly behind him. Pearl yelps in alarm as she only barely dodges its mace-like swing. Unable to hold back his sobs anymore, he collapses to his knees on the hard crystal. Coils his tail around himself by sheer instinct. Hides his face away behind arms. Hot tears spill from his eyes, vision blurring and sharpening in rhythm to the unbearable ache pounding in his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers pathetically, voice catching.

He can practically feel the vibrations through the floor as someone approaches. It’s Garnet. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it can only be her. His breath hastens against his better wishes. Can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop... The vision of the temple door begins to pirouette in dizzy circles around him as he arches his back, and with a sharp gasp feels something tear its way through his shirt and jacket right above his spine, all jagged and spiked and— NO! He grinds his jaw together, shrinking further into himself. Not real. It’s not real, not real, not—

“Steven,” she says in a measured tone as he heaves for air. (No, with hesitation. Fear. She’s hesitating because she’s afraid of you, she’s afraid because you’re a monster NO.) “I know you’re hurting, but I need you to take a deep breath with me, and try to calm down. Please, let us help you...”

A heart wrenchingly familiar hand reaches out to him, adorned by a ruby gem and a golden wedding band. His fingers clamp around thick, greasy curls, brushing against the horns protruding from his temples. A keening cry slips out from his mouth against his better wishes. They want to help. They only want to help...

He peeks at her through the crook of his arm, his most likely reddened, blotchy eyes meeting hers. She’s taken off her visor. She’s crying too.

For a glimmer of a second, he considers reaching out. Taking her offered hand with his own clawed one. But then...

Haven’t you been a burden enough already?

His face screws up, and his hands clench into fists.

“NO,” he shouts, slamming them down upon the warp pad. It activates, (blessedly still accessible at this early stage of corruption NO don’t think about it!!), glowing a bright cyan as he envisions where he wants to go: no particular destination in his mind but away, away, away.

After all, he already knows he’s a monster.

So... he might as well become one too.

_____

Notes:

Some days you just gotta have an entire mental breakdown and go full wyrm, y'hear?

HCs I tapped into for this fic:

After being healed, formerly cracked Gems take longer to reform than Gems who were only poofed. Peridot will be okay eventually, she just hasn’t reformed quite yet.

Steven is still able to warp because he hasn’t quite passed the threshold of corruption that prevents a Gem from accessing the warp stream. I imagine it's very much a matter of mental connection, and having the right presence of mind to tap into it. Probably a few minutes after this, if Steven were to continue going downhill and his mind fully fell into the fog of corruption, he’d no longer be able to warp. He got super lucky here.

This potential future blindsided Garnet because previously- like how Steven’s newfound maturity threw her off as discussed in Pool Hopping- she hadn’t factored in the idea of Steven being in such a low mental state. Amethyst was the first to really see past his attempts to mask it because she personally had dealt with depression like this before and knew what it looked like.

Maybe one day after SUF airs I'll write more on this topic, but as for now this will remain a one-shot. I 100% imagine Steven would ultimately be okay in this timeline, though. They'd be able to help him, stop the corruption. Steven goes to heckin' therapy. He'll live on, he'll begin to recover and cope. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Thank you for reading!

#su #su future #steven universe #corrupted steven theory #su fanfic #garnet #amethyst #pearl #su fanfiction #corrupted steven #corrupt!steven #body horror #my writing stuff #the mighty 500

[bugmomwrites]

Bloody Knuckles (Satori Tendou x GN!Reader)

A/N: My first time writing for Tendou! He was definitely one of the more multi faceted characters I’ve seen thus far, and I wanted to portray him in a way that wasn’t just an unhinged crackhead and it turns out I’m soft for The Weird Ones With A Heart Of Gold so...yay? 

Give this song a listen while you read!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8GwUos_Mtw&list=LLMufVjq3gMI8bOOKLeFGq4g&index=257

If this takes off and enough people ask/comment/reblog I may write part 2 but no promises

TW: You break someone’s nose so a little blood? You can throw a mean punch in this one. Do with that what you will.

“Hey, I’m sorry for worrying you. Semi kind of exaggerated over the phone but I swear I’m fine.”

Silence.

You gulp. Tendou has already thanked the nurse for cleaning your cuts, and offers to wrap the last couple bandages. Sensing you two needed to be alone, she gives him the roll and quietly tends to the others. The several wrappings on his own hands must have been enough of an indication to them, seeming to say I know what I’m doing! I’ve done this before!, and it wasn’t like it was anything major. If it was something more graphic, say, a gun wound, they might have done it themselves. But here he was, wrapping you up with a level of care and intimacy reserved only for you.

How on earth did he let this happen again? You had been on your way to the gym around the same time he usually finished practice so the two of you could walk home together and hang out after school. Nothing out of the ordinary. You even had his varsity jacket on to block out the chilly autumn breeze, grateful that the sleeves were long enough to go well past your hands. His number 5 stitched onto the back was just the icing on the cake, and you wore it with pride.

Except today had been a little different.

As his s/o, you were very well aware of his past experiences with bullying, how he was labeled a “monster” by his peers; excluded from activities and singled out- sometimes even by the teachers. And while he had initially grown from the experience, feeling much more confident not just with age but with you becoming a vital part of his life as well, that didn’t mean he’d completely forgotten it either. Even though it was much less common in high school, there would still be the rare few that had something nasty say about him, but you didn’t think you’d ever witness it first hand in your third and final year.

As luck would have it, your “good behavior” streak came to a screeching halt when you heard snickers coming a little ways behind you. Frowning, you turned your head just in time to see a cluster of what looked like a few college kids from the team Shiratorizawa practiced against. You wondered briefly what was so amusing to them, when the shortest of the three beckoned you over. Hesitantly, you followed to where they were, just a couple yards away from the gym entrance.

“Can I help you?”, you asked curiously. One of them nodded, leaning down a bit and spoke.

“Yeah, we couldn’t help but wonder- are you dating the infamous Guess Monster of Shiratorizawa? The number on your back looked familiar.”

“Oh you mean Tendou! Yeah, he’s the greatest. Have you guys met him?”, at this they all exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into laughter. You faltered, half expecting that these guys were maybe friends of his, or at least on good terms. Anytime someone would ask you about your boyfriend, you were used to gushing about him to anyone who would listen, so this mockery was unprecedented. 

“Looks like even the Yokai scored a s/o before you did after all, Katsu. Pay up.” The one named Katsu groaned, but reached into his wallet nonetheless and handed over a few paper bills. At this, you frowned. Who the hell did they think they were, speaking so poorly about the man you loved with your whole heart?!

Indignantly, you huffed are them, demanding to know what kind of beef they had with Tendou. They glared down at you, retaliating with some judgmental comments. You couldn’t even remember how it escalated; whether it was a gradual build up or one sole thing that sent you from 0 to 100, but before you knew it hands were being thrown, and the little voice in the back of your mind warning you about utterly stupid you were acting was ultimately silenced.

Being outnumbered, and not to mention much smaller it wasn’t hard for them to land a couple hits on you. Unbeknownst to you Semi passed by the commotion just in time to see two of the guys comforting their friend, who was now holding a bloody nose.

This would have been the perfect time to make your getaway, but after you heard the words “psycho bitch” there was nothing in your veins but pure unadulterated rage, and any momentary relief Semi may have felt at the prospect of the scrap winding down, was shot down almost instantly.

He wasn’t too sure who he should be more worried for, but getting in the middle of it wouldn’t end well for anybody. The sight of maroon blotches on the concrete and smearing over all four of you sent him into a mild panic, as he turned the corner and dialed 911.

“Yeah, Shiratorizawa Academy. Just outside the gym. Thank you. Please hurry.”

He still had one more call to make, although he wasn’t sure if he could do it. Steeling his nerves and swallowing any anxiety that got caught in his throat he tapped the green call button. The dial tone sounded for fifteen long seconds before a cheerful voice finally greeted him on the other line.

“Semi-Semi? I’m right inside. Did you forget something after practice?”

“Tendou! It’s Semi. Hurry outside, it’s urgent.”

“I think the last time I decked somebody on your behalf was before we got to Shiratorizawa. Middle schoolers are ruthless”, you chuckled nervously, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him. When he still didn’t respond, you cleared your throat.

“Tendou?”, you speak again, but this time your voice is much softer. Much more uncertain. As if you’re afraid to raise your voice out of fear of one or both of you breaking. With a shaky sigh, you reach a newly wrapped hand under his chin.

“Satori.”

This time, his face lifts into your view, and you don’t miss the way his brows furrow with worry, or the way his lips tremble as glossy eyes avert your own. A heavy hand is placed over yours, thumb rubbing gentle circles over the back of your palm.

People had always told you that one of these days that temper of yours would get you into trouble. That was one other difference you had with Tendou- your boyfriend was nicknamed the “Guess Monster” on and off the court, the title coming from his hyper observant nature and uncanny ability to easily read the people around him at a moments notice. Tendou was strategic, often analyzing even the most mundane from seemingly every angle, running the possibilities through his brain before executing a final decision.

You on the other hand? You were impulsive, brash, the patron saint of “act first think later”. You were prone to getting caught up in the moment, and being much more volatile than your romantic counterpart. That mentality, coupled with your loyalty and strong sense of justice was the perfect storm for leading you into scenarios much like this one. 

Sure, you had scared off bullies for Tendou before, and every time he would hug you tight and tell you to “be more careful next time”, and just like clockwork you’d be on your best behavior for all of a week or so before inevitably relapsing back to instinctive rage. The cycle would continue, and for a while spats like these became less frequent, much to Tendou’s joy.

This was not “just another spat”.

Instead of relieved affection and that familiar grin you knew and loved, the back of the ambulance was deadly quiet, save for the EMTs bustling around outside.

His name still hung in the air, and before you could say anything else you felt warm droplets rolling onto your newly wrapped hands. One by one teardrops soaked through the fabric in the form of little dots, and your heart dropped as the harsh reality set in. 

Tendou Satori was crying. Your lovably goofy, sweet boyfriend, who you swore to protect from all the vile comments. From all the evil in the world. From any and all things that would make him cry.

But this time, it was because of you.

In your crusade of being his metaphorical umbrella in the harshest storms raining from above, you had neglected to notice the muddy puddles below, leading him right into them while he faithfully believed in you. 

Those kids might have been calling Tendou a monster, but now? The title seemed to be more fitting for you. You had to fix this. You had to bring that smile back. You were the only one who could bring back the sun from the dreary raincloud that hung over the both of you.

“Tori, baby... look at me.”

After what seemed like eons, teary brown eyes met (e/c) ones. You wondered how it was possible for them to look so shiny, and yet so subdued at the same time. There were originally so many apologies and words running through your head that you had planned, each one thought out carefully enough to make Tendou proud. You wanted to tell him all of it, while putting some sense of comfort in knowing that you were trying to express your feelings with words (and not impulsive actions) that you pondered. That you came up with. That you considered before speaking, for once in your life.

But as soon as you made eye contact, they disappeared into thin air. Every mentally rehearsed statement, gone. So  you rested your forehead against his in a silent apology. Words would fail you, and as much as you wanted to be just as eloquent as Tendou, the small gesture seemed to do more than a million I’m sorry’s ever could.

So the pair of you sat on the stretcher in a silence that seemed much less suffocating now, forehead to forehead, and kissing away tears.

After several minutes had passed, Tendou leaned into your hand some more, and turned to lay a kiss into your palm. 

Now it was your turn to tear up a little. After seeing firsthand the kind of harassment your boyfriend went through on a daily basis, you knew you had to be strong for his sake. The reasonable part of you told you to not pick a fight with certain people, no matter what. That there was no shame in taking the high road. But then you’d remember all the times he’d come home dejected and hurt, and the indignation that came with people so casually dragging his name through the mud, having no idea just how much words hurt. 

Being “his protector” was taxing, and you realized that, while you’d do everything in your power to keep that smile on his face, sometimes you needed to let him be there for you too. As equals.

The tears were now dried up, no words needed as the walls of the tiny ambulance began to feel less restricting. Much like a sun shower, it wasn’t completely better yet, but it was obvious things were on the mend, at the very least. There was always a short window of time during a rainstorm where the sun would peek out, despite the last few drops of rain not disappearing completely. Moments like these- where the sadness was still lingering, but took a backseat to make room for relief, bittersweetness, and love- were where a rainbow would shine through. This purgatory was beautiful, yet ephemeral, and if you didn’t embrace it quickly enough it would fade away.

And with that, Tendou took a page out of your book and kissed you sweetly. It took you by surprise at first, but before too long you were melting into it. Vulnerable, but filled with a new kind of strength.

Pulling away as you remembered the ambulance doors were still half open, you attempted to reach to pull them shut. Alas, Tendou was a master at reading people, but most especially you, and you two were closed off from the rest of the world with a satisfying click.

Using this window of opportunity where his guard was down, you pulled him back down to your level for a longer, steamier kiss as you card your hand through his hair. You could almost feel him smirking against you, and in that moment you knew your sunshine was here to stay. After a few moments of shared breaths, mingling tongues and wandering hands, you finally separated and took in his dishelved appearance. Although, you were certain you didn’t look much better.

“I know I’m not as good with words as you are, but I’d love to apologize properly...maybe with actions?” 

His eyes softened, lifting both of your bandaged hands in his to his lips as he tenderly kissed your bruised knuckles.

“I’d like that.”

.

TAGLIST: @narutos-fat-meat @introloves @kzumesknma @lotsofangst @xsweetbutsaltyx

Send me an ask or a message if you want to be notified of future stories, and I’ll add you to the list!

#bug mom writes #tendou satori #tendou x reader #gn reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #anime #fluff

[daniellesimagines]

Try It Again (Ashton Irwin) - Part 2 *

submitted by @palayeeeroyale

Part 1

Trigger warning: Mentions of rape, PTSD

~

“-and then I rolled down my window like ‘I’m so sorry, Shia LaBeouf!’ and then he- Ash? Ashton, are you even listening?” Michael interrupted his story when he saw that his friend sitting passenger in his car staring at his phone.

“Hmm?” Ashton murmurs, finally looking up, “Oh sorry, mate, I was just texting Y/N.” The rest of the band nods, understanding that Michael’s story is the last thing Ash is concerned about. The boys decided to carpool to the studio today rather than be in separate cars.

“How’s she doing? She still having sleep trouble?” Calum asked.

“She’s been doing better, actually. She still has nightmares from time-to-time, but she hasn’t had any sleep paralysis in a few months. And she’s starting to get more confident,” Ashton informed the three curious boys, finally sliding his phone back in his pocket. 

Luke, Michael, and Calum were all worried about you as well. Being with Ashton meant being around them a lot, so it was inevitable for you four to be close to each other. Their respective significant others and you were all really close as well, you and Sierra were even to be bridesmaids in Michael and Crystal’s wedding. So when the tragic incident happened, everyone was understandably scared about you; There wasn’t a single dry eye in the hospital room the day you were admitted.

“How has she become more confident?” the long-haired singer asked from his seat behind the eldest boy of the group.

Ashton sighed, not sure if he should even tell them something as personal as this. But he looked at the concerned faces staring back at him – all except Michael, who was driving – and knew that they aren’t gonna make too big of a deal out of it like they normally did whenever one of them talked about their sex life, he decided to.

“You have to promise me you won’t mention to Y/N that I told you…” All three boys nodded, confused as to what the answer could possibly be. “Recently, we tried to have sex again.”

“Y-You didn’t make her, did you?” the kiwi boy asked hesitantly.

“No! God, no! I would never!” Ashton yelled, very offended by the question. Calum shrunk back under the hateful glare that Ashton was sending him.

“Well, how’d it go?” Michael tried to ease the tension, “Did you two finish?”

“No, she safe-worded out. But I’m so fucking glad she did. I was terrified she would’ve just let me have my way with her, y’know? I would’ve felt terrible if I knew that I fucked her while she was having flashbacks of what happened.” The boys simply nod. 

The Tesla was silent for a minute before Michael brought up an idea.

“Why don’t you let her be in charge or something…?” he offered. Ashton looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, yeah! Let her be on top so she won’t get scared of you being on her,” Calum included. Ashton sat there quietly, taking in the suggestions the boys were throwing at him.

“That’s not a bad idea at all. Like, make her feel like she has complete control of the situation?”

The drummer earned a simultaneous “Yes!” “Yeah!” “Exactly!” in response. He hadn’t really thought about that. 

Ashton was never one to be submissive. He liked his dominance. He liked having power over someone – a person who would do anything to please him whenever he so desired. 

He tried giving up the power once with you during the early stages of your relationship, and although it was enjoyable, it wasn’t something he was into doing regularly. You accepted this, since you two were just experimenting at the time, and stuck ‘femme-dom’ under the metaphorical list of kinks that you two weren’t gonna pursue.

But now, he’s never heard of a more perfect idea. Letting you have total control of what you do and what he does? It’s brilliant!

“That’s such a fucking good idea, Mike,” he looks at the guitarist in complete awe.

“Thanks,” he stated proudly, “You only get one good one out of me per year.”

“More like per millennia…” the other blonde mumbled.

“Shut up, Luke!”

~

Ashton held onto the idea of you two switching roles for about three weeks. 

He wasn’t gonna come up to you with the idea – he was gonna wait until you wanted to have sex again. He didn’t want you to feel like you were being rushed, so he decided to be patient. He assumed you weren’t gonna want to try anything again for another few months, but your words one day during dinner made him nearly start choking on his food.

“Ash, I wanna try having sex again,” you stated casually. The black-haired boy started to cough, startled by the proposition. After he had finally swallowed the pasta, he responded.

“Princess, it’s only been a couple weeks. Don’t you wanna wait a little longer?” he looks at you, who’s now standing the other side of the table beside him, with uncertainty.

“Please, Ashton! I want to be close with you again. I want you to make love to me. I wanna make you feel good.” That last sentence slipped out. As soon as you said it, the boy’s eyes softened.

“Baby, don’t feel like you should try having sex again for me. I’m perfectly okay going without sex if it means that you’re getting better. Your therapist said that if you were to have another PTSD episode, it could set you back. You could have your night terrors again, or your sleep paralysis… I don’t want to hurt you or your recovery.”

“I know what Dr. Torrence said. But I miss you – I miss the intimacy and the passion between us. Please, Ashton; I know you’re worried, but this is something I really wanna try one more time,” you try to persuade. He looks at you in thought for a while before making a decision.

“I’ve actually thought of a way that could help you get through it, but I’ll tell you what. Next Saturday, if you’re still 100% sure you wanna try it again, then we’ll do it. I just want to make sure this isn’t some kind of ‘in the moment’ thing or whatever. I don’t wanna hurt you, princess,” Ashton puts his hand on your cheek. You place a hand on his wrist and look at him with understanding eyes.

“Okay, next Saturday sounds good,” you smile. He returns the gesture, then kisses your nose just to see your face scrunch up like it does every time he kisses you there.

~

One week later

Now it’s next Saturday, and the want to have sex with your boyfriend only grew stronger. You wanted to give it another go – you really believe that can do it and not freak out.

You two were in your bedroom, kissing each other passionately. You both stand there for a bit before either one of you speak.

“Baby, take off my shirt,” he mumbles against your lips. You oblige, swiftly unbuttoning everything. You wait for him to do the same for you, but never makes the motion.

“Aren’t you gonna take my clothes off?”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, “I want you to have total control over everything. You can take off your clothes when you want, you can touch me when you want, you can tell me where to touch you – everything.” You blink at him, surprised. Him being so willing to give up all the power to you nearly brings you to tears. But you try not to ruin the moment, so you take off your shirt.

Shedding both of your clothes, you pull Ashton towards the bed. You lay down and pull him on top of you. But that position only lasts only a second before he flips you both over. You looked at him in shock for the second time.

“Like I said, you have the whole say so,” he reminded you. You smile down at the raven-haired boy below you. 

You take him in your hand and line him up at your entrance, the both of you groaning at this feeling of you sinking down on him. You pause a moment, adjusting to the length, before bouncing up and down.

This seems…natural. 

You have no unsettling feeling and, for the first time in eight months, your head is clear of any of any of the horror that you’ve experienced. You and Ashton were having sex… 

And you were enjoying it.

“Ashton, touch me,” you commanded.

“Where, baby girl?”

You shake your head, “I don’t care – anywhere. Please.”

Ashton immediately reaches to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples. You moan out his name louder as you were getting closer to your high.

“You close, princess?” You nod. “Me too. Come for me.”

You take one of his hands that were on your boob and brought it down to your core, hoping he would understand what you wanted. Luckily, he did, using his fingers to circle your clit. A couple more bounces and you released all over his length, causing Ashton to finish as well. Once you’ve both come down from your highs, you pull off of him and lay down next to him.

You two lay there silently for a bit, just enjoying being next to each other…

Then Ashton heard it: your sniff.

You were crying.

His stomach dropped, and his heart started pounding. 

Fuck, no no no. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen; You were supposed to safe-word out. God dammit, he fucked this up. He fucked everything up. He hurt you and now you were gonna reset all the progress you had just made recovering. 

God fucking dammit.

“Baby…” he whispers. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been mor-” He stops when he hears you laughing. You look at him with a large smile as his eyebrows furrow.

“I did it!” you announce, “I fucking did it!” Your tears flow harder, but your smile somehow gets wider.

“Wait, what?”

“Ashton… I had sex! And I liked it!” you sit up, “Holy shit, I had an orgasm again! I never thought I’d be able to do that again! Oh my god!” Your happy tears turned into happy sobs. 

Your boyfriend let out the biggest sigh of relief, before sitting up as well to hug you. You rest your head on his chest.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, princess,” he kissed the top of your head. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being there for me. For waiting for me to be ready again. For letting me be dominant so we can do this, even though you aren’t used to it. For everything.” Ashton smiles, softly taking your chin in his hand and kissing your lips.

“I’d do anything for you.”

#THE ABSOLUTE DISRESPECT #THE ACTUAL NERVE #THE SHEER INJUSTICE #THE LITERAL DISHONOR ON MY COW #LILY #HOW MANY TIMES MUST YOU LET ME THINK YOU LOVE ME BEFORE YOU PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY AND JUST TELL ME YOU DONT #also the obigatory 'shut up luke' in every 5sos imagine gives me such life yall have no idea #ashton irwin #5sos #submission #palayeeeroyale #5sos imagine #ashton imagine #ashton irwin imagine #* #smut #i guess???

[wrathandgreed]

Obey Me! MC-Tiber, Day 2 :)

(If you want the basics of Rae, click here)

Day 2: Okay, I know, it’s the 10th and I’m WAY behind - my schedule is killing me.

Prompt: MC With Belphie

Headcanons about Rae and Belphie (be aware I’ve only gone through lesson 21)

It takes her a LONG time to trust Belphie.

In her experience, people who get away with hurting you WILL hurt you again.

She takes the pact with him as a form of self-protection. Both to be able to make him stop if he tries to hurt her again, but also so he doesn’t suspect how terrified she is of him.

She hasn’t been in the Devildom long enough to truly understand that these are demons, not humans.

Once she does, she starts to trust him. She sees his 180-degree turn as an astonishing change.

For a being thousands of years old to change his mind like that, it must have been a profound moment for him.

Takes a little longer for her to trust him. His habit of napping on her actually helped that.

I imagine it goes something like this.....

Warnings: Cursing, nightmares related to assault, violence

The scent invaded her dreams.

It should have been a warm, comforting scent. Rae would ponder it while awake. Warm vanilla and leather, just a hint of sandalwood. A cozy, homey kind of scent. Something you would find in a winter candle.

In her dreams, it was terrifying. She couldn’t breathe, there were hands around her throat, but somehow she kept smelling that smell. It filled her nostrils, wrapped around her head, reached down her throat and spread through her lungs and belly. Her vision filled with deep violet and pink, the intense satisfaction in his eyes as he strangled the life out of her. The pressure of thumbs on her throat choked her.

She fought for breath. It seemed to go on forever - how long could she not breathe and still live? How could she still smell vanilla and leather but not any air that would bring her relief? How long could he stare at her without blinking? How long could he hold that grip? Why couldn’t she just die already?

Rae could hear the harsh rasping of his breath as she struggled to find her own. Her chest spasmed and her throat felt like cement.

Rae’s eyes snapped open. For a second she still couldn’t breathe and her vision started to black out again. Realizing what was happening, she forced herself to take a small breath. Once that one hit, she drew in another, bigger breath. And another. One gasp after another until she was sure she would continue to breathe if she stopped thinking about it.

She lifted a trembling hand to her face. Her whole body shook in a desperate attempt to stave off tears. Or fear. Or both.

God, she missed her therapist.

(Lucifer had offered to try and arrange phone sessions, but she declined. How could she explain her life here to a therapist without sounding batshit insane? She had one last session about her going “abroad” on a scholarship program so he didn’t alert the authorities that she was missing.)

She blinked uncertainly up at the ceiling. It wasn’t the ceiling of her room. It wasn’t Mammon’s room. She must have fallen asleep in the common room again. With the nightmares, she wasn’t sleeping much at night, so her body conked out wherever she wound up relaxing.

They’d go away. They always did. It wasn’t the first time something had happened to her that caused nightmares. The usual things helped; sleeping with some kind of light (she’d strung up fairy lights around the tree in her bedroom) and some white noise. While the nightmares lasted, she tried to make sure she slept in her own, familiar room instead of Mammon’s weird cement garage. He complained a little but she got the feeling he liked her room better anyway. She’d see about getting some kind of scented candle for her room - something fresh and citrusy, something light, something the opposite of warm, heavy vanilla and leather.

Rae tried to shift, then realized the weight and pressure on the bottom of her legs wasn’t a blanket, but Belphegor and his pillow.

Of course. Of fucking course. He saw someone napping, and decided to join in. That’s why the smell invaded her dream. Because he was actually right here with her. The smell was Belphegor’s own signature scent; each brother seemed to have one.

She resisted the urge to push him off the couch to the floor. It was petty and wouldn’t make anything better. He didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure he could understand. The fact that she’d been all smiles and helpfulness to him since he fucking murdered her made him think she was friendly and forgiving. Which made him approach her more. Which meant more smiles and helpfulness.

She’d been honest with him - she didn’t forgive him.

But….maybe she should.

This wasn’t the first time he’d found her catnapping and joined her. If he was going to hurt her, he’d had a dozen more opportunities to do so. She’d been smiles and helpfulness - but so had he. He’d given her a pact as an apology, and she’d taken it to protect herself. He’d tried to spend time with her, to get to know her as his brothers had, and she’d dodged him and done her damndest to avoid being alone with him. So maybe joining her naps was his way of bonding with her. Talking about stories was how she bonded with Satan, and video game chatter was how she bonded with Levi. She was refusing to bond with Belphegor, so maybe he was trying to bond with her.

For nearly all-powerful demons, they really were love-, affection-, attention-, and touch-starved.

She leaned up on her elbows and studied him. His black and white hair lay over his black and white pillow. Both were resting on her legs. One of his hands cupped her calf like a stuffed animal.

Belphegor shifted slightly in his sleep, stretched, and she felt her heart jump. Calm down, she whispered in her head. She took a steadying breath and smiled as he blinked his eyes open and noticed she was already awake.

“Hey,” he murmured, lifting his fingers to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Hey,” she returned. She took another breath. If she was going to move forward, she had to make a move. Making a move wouldn’t stop the dreams, but forming a relationship with him might. What would she do with literally any of the other brothers? She’d probably smack them with one of the couch pillows, but that kind of playfulness was definitely not on the table yet. “Uh…..I think we missed lunch. Do you want to hit up Hell’s Kitchen for a bite?”

He blinked, and she didn’t miss the surprise in his eyes. “Do you want to grab Beel or someone to come along?”

Rae shook her head. Time to make a move forward. “They’re all busy I think. Mammon’s getting reamed by Lucifer for something. That may or may not be metaphorical.”

Belphegor chuckled and sat up.

With the weight off her legs, Rae swung them down to the ground and stood up. “Levi’s in some kind of sixteen-hour raid, Satan’s so deep in a book he won’t surface til dinner, and Beel’s at practice. If you want company for lunch, you’re stuck with me.”

“I mean, if you’re ok with it.” He stood slowly and Rae realized she’d misjudged him. He knew exactly how uncomfortable she felt with him.

She put on a smile. After a few moments, it solidified into a real smile and warmed her face. “Sure,” she said. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. With only the briefest hesitation, she offered her hand. “Let’s go get some grub.”

Another moment of hesitation, then Belphie linked his hand with hers and they walked together out the door.

#obey me #obey me belphegor #obey me mctober #mctober #obey me mc #obey me fic #obey me rae