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bat-boys · 1 month

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domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling.

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head.

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him.

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair.

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair.

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly.

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you.

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there.

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss.

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you.

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared.

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs.

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch.

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin.

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element.

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped.

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night.

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new.

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you.

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back.

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips.

"Shadowsinger." You purred.

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation.

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room.

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone.

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove.

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones.

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting.

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs.

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly.

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you.

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh.

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze.

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye.

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress.

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you.

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over.

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down.

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit.

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway.

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen.

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his.

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually.

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking.

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore.

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are.

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him.

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down."

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him.

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him.

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go.

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion.

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa.

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart.

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there.

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite.

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven.

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile.

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile.

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.

Read Part 2 here!

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marsprincess889 · 1 month

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Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism, selectivity.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon.

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, predicting future, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, traditions, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, the smoke.

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gaining power through partnerships, self-expression through relationships.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, the perfect male stereotype.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too).

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything.

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cora-illus · 1 year

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Ninth House skull symbolism time ok

[Image Description: 10 headshots of Harrow Nonagesimus wearing the various black and white skull paints described in this post, with their names written above each head. End ID]

I wanted to expand on my headcanons for purposes + symbolism of the Ninth’s facepaint because the books don’t give much about them and its v intriguing to me. These are all taken from whatever is mentioned in the books + expanded on based on my interpretation of the character and context involved.

* : A mask with no canon name, the name listed is a headcanon/theory

[Image Description for all images following: A title card with the mask’s name as listed, and one side, three-quarter and front-facing headshot. All masks will be described following it’s title. End ID.] I wish there was an easier way to do this but text posts don’t allow alt text, and image posts don’t allow images between text.

Black Vestige's Mask*

A simply stylized skull, with the hollow of the cheeks, temples and eye recess blacked out, a blotch with two upright marks for the nose, and three vertical lines from nose to chin to represent teeth. The upper lip is completely coloured.

Gideon's effect on Canaan, seen on the GtN cover

This mask announces loyalty and service to the tomb, in a way that is practical and visually bold

The standard mask acceptable for any occasion, this mask is the most common among pilgrims and lower to mid echelon of the Ninth.

Also popular with cavaliers due to it's practical simplicity and stoic appearance.

Vestige's Devotion*

A more complex stylized skull, with thin lines around the forehard, chin and nose giving a clearer form to the skull. The eyes, temple and side of the cheekbones are blacked out, as is the cheek where (on a skull) there is a hollow between teeth and mandible/cheekbones. Teeth are more carefully painted on, and the upper lip is fully coloured.

Harrow's main effect, seen on the HtN cover

Also worn by Crux

A more detailed take on the Black Vestige's Mask, requiring more care and patience to paint.

Symbolises an enthused acceptance of duty, and a desire to display this publicly

Among regular Niners often used for ceremonies, holy days and important prayer.

For the more intense of the devout, this may be worn more frequently to show deeper devotion to their religion.

Jawless Skull

A plain-looking skull, with no mandible - the temples, cheek hollows and entire jaw is blacked out. The eyes and nose are also blacked out, and individual teeth are painted on the upper lip.

Worn by Ortus upon learning of the summons in HtN

The oldest skull style.

A slightly more devoted/involved paint than the Black Vestige's Mask, with not much more variation in symbolism other than more strongly reflecting the Ninth House sigil.

May also be worn as an alternative to a Black Vestige's Mask.

Often worn by those who feel that they have something to prove, those who have thoughts/opinions they know would be better left unsaid, or who have taken a vow of silence.

The Anchorite Dying

Two styles: The first, using the Black Vestige’s Mask as a base, but with triangular gashes across where the temples becomes the forehead. The left side appears crushed and fractured, with two teeth appearing to sink into the black of the cheek hollow. The second, also using the Vestige’s Mask as a base, is more symmetrical - fractured cheekbones and a short line down the cheek from each eye. There is a blacked-out crack on the left of the forehead and a crack along the bridge of the nose.

Worn by Ortus arriving to Canaan in HtN

A melancholy acknowledgement of duty to the tomb - worn for one of two reasons:

when experiencing doubt or hesitation in one’s faith, this mask is worn to confess this and show a desire to overcome such internal conflict.

Or, to show the wearer deeply understands and accepts the solemnity and finality of the life of a Black Vestige.

Pilgrims who commit to life on the Ninth wear this mask for their full first year as a member of the House, and many of the most devout pilgrims-turned-House members maintain The Anchorite Dying after this period

Either style can be worn for either purpose and has no reflection on the wearer’s intent

The Priestess Crushed Beneath New Laid Rock

A painted skull of a face that has been crushed, revealing the sinus cavities above the brow bone, in the cheeks and up the nose. The temples, eyes, cheeks and area around the mouth and chin are fully coloured, with white squares along the bottom lip and top of the chin for sunken teeth. It is intended to be quite gruesome and unpleasant to look at.

Worn by Harrow to dinner on the Mithraeum

The ultimate honour to Anastasia, this mask is representative of a life given to the tomb either through sacrifice or duty.

Its gruesome appearance is meant to cleanse the wearer of any heresy or doubt in their duty.

Most frequently worn during rite of passage ceremonies - whether to anoint pilgrims to the Ninth's ranks or to ordain new priesthoods - or celebrate a nun's sacrificial death for the tomb.

The Chain

A mask significantly more intricate than the Vestige’s Devotion - a more complex twist of lines around the forehead, cheeks and mouth, emulating an anatomical sketch of the form of a skull. These lines meet to make two small patches of black paint in the hollow between teeth and cheeks/mandible, and teeth painted intricately on the lips. Only the eyelids are blacked out, and the rest of the eye socket is outlined with thin black lines. The beginning of the spine is painted in white, against a black background, on the throat.

Worn by Harrow to the Ball AU in HtN

An incredibly intricate, involved mask. Mastering it shows the deepest devotion to the tomb and skull painting as an art form.

Symbolizes a life committed to the tomb, so much so that one is willing to sit for hundreds of hours to imitate even a fraction of a construct's complex beauty.

Not seen often in past generations, despite not being restricted to any event or class.

This mask is worn to show complete, utter devotion to the Tomb and respect to Anastasia. Although still taught in scriptures, few ever don this skull

The Inglorious Mask

Painted in blood on a bare face, this is a rough, rushed attempt to paint a Black Vestige’s Mask. The cheeks are painted by dragging hands coated in blood along the sides of the face, the lips and nose wiped with bloody fingers, and the eyes and temples rubbed with the bloody heel of a palm.

Worn by Harrow at the beginning of HtN

Represents a desperate, pathetic attempt to cling to faith in times of extreme hardship.

A vestige's paint is their most material connection to their faith. If they have nothing they have their masks, so they must do everything in their power to hold true to it.

Though better than a bare face, it is still immensely embarrassing and shameful to be seen like this.

Reserved for an absolute last resort, if a devotee can do literally anything better than this it is considered heresy to not do so.

Veils are frequently included in this mask to prevent any from having to witness it.

Now a couple with less to bounce off of, just vague descriptions in the books I’ve taken + run with

Mandible That Prays For The Tomb*

A face painted white, with only the gap between upper and lower jaw painted in black, on the cheeks. There are five small lines on the upper lip that imitate teeth.

Worn by Matthias Nonius, scarified into Ortus' face in HtN

Aiglamene wears a more decorative variant of this mask

Symbolises a fealty that inspires protective instinct.

Highlighting the jaw, this mask is worn by those devoted to their prayer and verbal worship, and an honoured commitment to cavalier-hood in the name of serving the Tomb.

Another practical mask preferred by cavaliers, especially those who serve/d in the Cohort.

Having a majority of their face painted white protects the wearer from harmful sun rays that their skin is unaccustomed to, having grown up underground on the Ninth.

This mask allows them to show their fealty boldly while also serving a very practical purpose

Egregious Visage*

Very minimal, a face painted white with only the eye sockets, nose and upper lip fully painted black. There is a simple curving line on either cheek, a hint of a skull’s cheekbones.

A messier version is unintentionally worn by a young Gideon trying to wear as little paint as possible

This skull is considered the bare minimum of face paints on the Ninth - it represents a person's mortification or religious doubt.

While still being acceptable as a face covering, it is viewed with judgement due to these connotations

Worn by those undergoing punishment or social rejection, or those who are preparing the leave the faith.

#the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #tlt headcanons #the ninth house #i made a spreadsheet and everythin

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a-hermit-pining · 17 days

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Geto as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Geto x Reader AN: I love him. He's so damn pretty. Who should I write next?

Have you seen him? He is mother material. Born to cook forced to slay. Let's say in a different world, you whisk this beautiful man into the domestic bliss of marriage.

Massive cottage core vibes with this one. He is very taken by the idea of not being regarded as a killing machine. Immediately busies himself with the task of decorating your shared home.

Just take this man away. Elope to mountains and save him (hermit begs you).

Wedding planning is another demon. He debates every single decision. Asking you about your preference between white gardenias or white peonies. (You love him and he is too sweet for you to say out loud that you for the end of the world cannot distinguish the flowers)

He creates elaborate flowcharts to compare the pros and cons of different cake flavors, or insists on stress-testing the honeymoon resort's structural integrity with a cursed technique (much to the staff's bewilderment).

Let's not even get into Gojo's best man speech. No one really recovered from that.

DIY projects are his shit. Renovating a raggedy old dresser into a vintage masterpiece is where his magic lies. Let this man cook.

Your home with him is a a whimsical blend of vintage finds and hand-stitched throw pillows adorned with subtle wards against lingering curses. Even the strategically placed spider plants weren't just decorative – they doubled as a natural barrier against negative energy (a discovery that both surprised and amused you).

His transition into a normal 'monkey' life was endearingly awkward, like the time he spent hours meticulously decoupaging a floral pattern onto a chair, muttering about the inefficiency of glue compared to a simple binding spell.

And the day Suguru is introduced to the world of crocheting, your world flips on its axis. The pure look of joy on his face unravels the seams of your heart as he presents you with the mood changing octopus on your birthday.

Weekends with him are craft days. With a classic rom-com in the background as he sits next to you, his hands busy in the dance of needles and yarn. Better even your fingers run through his hair, braiding his hair only to wake up to your husband with perfect mermaid waves next day.

You both are the kind of sickly sweet couple that cause Shoko to gag in cringe during holiday gatherings.

Your husband glows with the simplicity of life. His hands busy themselves with crafts, chores, gardening, never a moment of rest even in the hull of domesticity.

He is your Disney princess that rushes out to refill the bird feeder with the first rays of Sun, hums pleasantly at the sight of a perfectly baked batch of cookies, or paints the most delightful sceneries on your ceilings.

Geto Suguru was made to create. He loves the fresh scent of sheets, experimenting with new flavors of tea, or going down the path of BookTok with Faerie romances much to your astonishment.

It isn't long before, you both end up adopting teeny tiny twins from the local orphanage. Suguru's darling girls he spends his life nurturing.

He took to fatherhood with the same surprising zeal he brought to everything else. His days were filled with braiding tiny pigtails, reading bedtime stories with dramatic voice inflections (complete with a surprisingly convincing rendition of a grumpy troll), and building elaborate pillow forts that rivaled any jujutsu barrier.

And on nights when dreams of a different reality kept him away, you held his hand in yours. Calling your girls for a family sleepover in the living room. That was all it took to whisk the sadness away from your beloved's eyes.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #househusband au #fluff man

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

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Don’t Fall Asleep // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal day, but not in fate's eyes as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girls been hurt?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (LOTS), Fluff, car crash, blood and injury, crying, anxiety, hurt/comfort, recovery, domestic bliss, teasing, praise kink, daddy kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, nipple play

Words: 5.1k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Life is precious, something that many take for granted. On occasions, phrases such as ‘live life to the fullest or ‘you could die tomorrow, take the opportunities as they come’ are often quoted but then disregarded. Every person who is living, has ever lived and will ever live; will experience the positives to living, the happiness that swells in their chest but then the balance to this, that makes living so tumultuous was the sadness and darkness that could destroy lives in a blink of an eye.

You, for one, were thankful for all of the time that you’d been able to share with Steve and Bucky. They’d changed your life to an unimaginable level, having never experienced true love, protection and simplicity until being in their areas. But of course, happiness can only last for so long, too many opportunities for near misses within the mafia that your luck was bound to run out at some point.

The real kick in the teeth was that this darkened day in your life was even centred around the gang and its criminal activities. In fact, it had been a rather plain day for you, starting the same as any other, Steve and Bucky attending the office to make sure everything was running smoothly and you’d planned to run some errands with Sam Wilson, your friend and bodyguard.

So far, you’d been food shopping, collected a couple of parcels and now were on your way to the art shop to pick up a few supplies for Steve who liked to draw in his spare time.

Sam was driving the two of you, rolling his eyes playfully as you flicked through the radio channels, not finding any satisfaction with what was being played and being too lazy to connect your phone to the bluetooth.

“Oh, I love that song!” Sam gasped, brushing your hand out of the way and switching to the channel you’d just casually skipped past. You laughed at his excitement, happy to also listen to the song if it made Sam happy which by his exaggerated singing, he was definitely enjoying it.

The roads around you weren’t excessively busy, thankfully the football was on so the majority of people were inside a bar and watching that. It was just a perfectly mundane, normal day but life always liked to test your limits when you least expected it.

The initial impact was something you wouldn’t ever remember, as a drunk driver smashed into your side of the car, causing it to flip several times before landing upside down. You’d been knocked out for a couple of minutes, only just waking up as Sam’s urgent shouts made it through the buzzing in your ears, your entire body felt lifeless and drained as he was able to undo your buckle and pull you a safe distance away. The drunk driver who had crashed into you had died on impact.

It was as the sirens blared in the distance, did you begin to feel the wetness and warmth starting from your head and moving down various parts of your body but you were completely dazed to understand that you’d sustained a head injury, your right wrist and leg broken and pointing in the wrong angles and a multitude of cuts and gashes covering your exposed skin due to the glass.

Sam was holding a section of his ripped shirt against the area of your head that was thumping along with your racing heartbeat, and in his other hand, he held his phone plastered to his ear. You couldn’t tell who he was on the phone too, but the desperation in his eyes, as he looked down at you, it wasn’t good. As you had taken the direct hit of the car and Sam was on the other side, he had the pain and aches from the whiplash, a deep gash through his eyebrow that was steadily leaking blood and then a scattering of cuts from the glass, otherwise was mostly unscathed.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep looking at me, the medics aren’t far away”, Sam’s voice sounded as if he was underwater, completely drowned out by the high-pitched, excessive buzzing that still consumed your consciousness. “Yeah, she’s awake-” Sam continued on the phone, unbeknown to you, to your boyfriends who were already in the car and driving to the area.

Oh course, he had already called the medics, as well as a couple of people from the growing crowd around the accident and soon after called his bosses, Steve and Bucky who sounded like they were both going to throw up and kill someone at the same time.

“Sam?” you managed to ask, not for anything in particular, in all honesty, you were just trying to reach for some kind of comfort and seeing him above you as just that.

“It’s ok, the boys are nearly here, you’re doing so well, just keep your eyes on me, please sweetheart, NO- don’t close your eyes”, Sam tried to keep you awake, dropping his phone onto the pavement below to give you his fullest attention but you were already unconscious again.

The next time you’re awake again, the paramedics had arrived and neck support had been attached to keep you stationary. “Hey y/n, can you hear us? Can you squeeze my finger for me?”, the closest medic was asking but you didn’t respond, mostly still out of it, dazed and confused.

Then across the commotion, the deafening screech of ties breaking across the tarmac was heard and the frantic shouts of your name as Steve and Bucky had arrived. This was something you would never remember, your eyes closed before they even reached you and it was probably for the best that you couldn’t remember it, possibly only adding more trauma to the situation.

Sam stepped back and watched the scene unfold before him, giving both of your boyfriend's room to be next to you as the medics continued to look after you. The bodyguard wiped a hand over his face, ignoring the painful injuries as tears welled in his eyes at seeing his bosses and also life-long friends completely break down.

They seemed lost between wanting to still be possessive, demanding to know everything that the medics were doing, and then the heartbreak of seeing you so injured and unresponsive, they didn’t know whether to shout or cry. At one point Bucky had to step away to vomit, it was complete chaos.

It took a couple of days for you to be fully conscious again and even this wasn’t a relief, even though it was something that Steve and Bucky had begged to anyone that would listen to occur. The confusion of the accident was still evident, unsure of where you were, why you couldn’t move properly, and why there were so many things attached to your body. You became quickly hysteric, ignoring the pleas from Steve and Bucky to try and calm down but your response was enough that the doctors deemed it appropriate to try and sedate you back into a peaceful sleep.

This was definitely for the best as you weren’t able to comprehend the state of which your boyfriends were even in, something that definitely would have upset you further. They both hadn’t changed their clothes the entire time, malnourished of food and drink as they obsessively sat next to your bed, day and night, unshaven, the whites of their eyes red from lack of sleep and crying. Both would take it in turns to go to the toilet before coming so you always had someone next to your bed, it was obsessive and no matter how many times the Doctors tried to escort the men to get some real sleep, they would simply shoot daggers at the professionals with their eyes before being left to it.

Thankfully after every scan and test that was done, it was determined that there would be no lasting damage, the wound on your temple was sutured with dissolvable stitches and your wrist and arm were placed into casts, with physiotherapy planned in the future and of course, your body was deeply bruised along with whiplash strain. Now, they just needed you to wake up to assess the memory loss and if there was any other damage from the impact to your brain.

They were lucky that the gang were able to continue as usual with the remaining members who had all been ordered to not disturb you all, no distractions necessary. Natasha was the only person to have the courage to visit and thankfully didn’t back down from the fight as she gave both of her bosses a stern talking too.

“When she wakes up, which SHE WILL, do you think she’d want to see you both looking like this? She’s injured and will be for some time, she shouldn’t be waking up with you both in this state, it’s probably make her more distressed. You need to get your shit together, go and shower, shave, eat a proper meal, and put on some new clothes so that when she wakes up, she has some stability and you’re actually prepared to look after her rather than moping around feeling sorry for yourselves!”.

In any other situation, Steve and Bucky would have been ready for a fight but Natasha’s brutal honesty was what they needed to hear, not as their employee but as their friend so they did exactly that.

Another 24 hours passed and you were finally beginning to stir, eyes fluttering open and head turning in the direction of the welcoming voices of your boyfriends and for the first time in days, they saw a hint of a smile on your beautiful face. You had no recognition of the last few days or anything from the accident but after a few further tests, they were happy to discharge you home to rest which you needed as it was complete agony to try and move with the ache in your muscles.

The two men didn’t seem to want to let go of you the entire time, if they were holding your hand, they were rubbing small circles against your uninjured leg, or stroking their thumb against your cheek, it was almost as if they were scared that once they let go of you, something bad would happen.

This only aided with the fact that you couldn’t walk was just another excuse for Steve and Bucky to carry you everywhere which was difficult at first with the discomfort in your body but it was better than any other option and it meant that you could properly embrace them, even for those short moments.

Then at long last, you were home, and you couldn’t deny crying happy tears as you saw the decorations that had been left in surprise by the Rogers gang, banners reading “welcome home!” and balloons covering nearly every surface of the living room. Everything was perfect, even the natural smell of your home was enough to have you crumbling into a mess.

It was hard to try and get accustomed to living at home after surviving such a traumatic experience, the physical and emotional toll was something no one could have prepared you for. As the three of you settled into your bed that evening, you had to find the right way to lie with the casts on your limbs still making it difficult to move and the ache still throbbing throughout your neck and spine, it wasn’t particularly comfortable. But finally, with you lying in the middle, your leg propped up on a couple of pillows, Steve to your right and Bucky to your left, you began to comprehend everything that had happened.

You sobbed harder than you thought possible, even becoming breathless as you verged on hyperventilating at thinking about your life nearly ending. Steve and Bucky tried to soothe you but their own emotional trauma came to a head as they too revealed their devastation at nearly losing you, both men crying as you all held one another.

But as the saying goes: ‘time heals all wounds’.

It wasn’t easy, not that you’d expected it to but as each day passed and your body ached less and less and the scratches began to heal, it lessened the pain in your heart. There would always be struggles but they were made easier with your devoted boyfriends.

With the broken wrist, it was difficult to cut your food and eat so Steve and Bucky insisted on feeding you, even if you could use your one hand to lift a fork to your mouth, they were going to make sure you rested in any way, smiling as they fed you every bite of every year. The worst change was going to the toilet, the boys offering to wipe but this was one step too far, you could do that but it was getting up again off of the toilet or waking them in the middle of the night that had your cheeks burning with embarrassment but they were more than happy to help you

“I’m here to look after you, no matter what it is that you’d like, I WANT to do it Doll. Ii know you want some dependency but this isn’t forever, it’s just for now so please let me look after you”, Bucky sweetly said after you frustratedly dropped your shirt to the floor, having been struggling to put it on for a while.

After a week of being home, Sam finally came to visit and once again you found yourself crying as he dropped to the couch and you both held onto each other. He’d been given some much-needed time off to recover and had been visiting his sister and nephews but now, he wanted to come and visit, really see that you were healing.

Finally gathering your emotions, you pulled back and wiped your face of tears, a genuine smile replacing your sad features as you saw the scratches over his face had most healed, only leaving the healing cut over his eyebrow.

“Everyone is going to love this new rugged look”, you commented, glancing at his injury. “The ladies will come running with the bad boy look”.

“Ah I know, who could deny such a handsome face, it’s a curse believe me”, he joked back, relief also settling over his body at hearing you relaxing. “Even better now we’re matching, bet we look like a right pair of hooligans”, he joked, looking up at the plaster still attached to your head covering the healing stitches.

“I think it just adds character”, you grinned back at him before your smile slowly faded as your tone became more serious. “Sam… I can’t even begin to thank you for looking after me”.

Sam’s eyes dropped to look into his lap, losing the strength to hide his emotions, “I didn’t do much-”.

“Yes, you did! You pulled me out of the vehicle and looked after me before the medics arrived, but it’s not just during this accident, you’ve always looked after me. I’m so grateful to have you in my life and I’m so glad you’re ok”.

Sam’s eyes twinkled as he looked up, his throat bobbing as he couldn’t muster up the words to talk, instead just pulling you into a hug that conveyed more emotions than words could have. Steve and Bucky also pulled Sam into crushing hugs, “Thank you for looking after our girl”, whispered between friends.

“Please go and put your feet up Sam, you deserve the time off!” you shouted after Sam as he moved towards the exit.

“I’ll try my best Boss Lady, you rest up too”, he replied with his beaming smile returning to his handsome face.

Another day passes as you sat at the edge of your bed with Bucky on his knees between your legs, his expression stern and unblinking as he concentrated on his job at hand.

“How does it look, is it horrible? Is it long? Do I look ugly?” you asked, looking up at his face as he leaned in closer to your face, his fingers gently easing the plaster away from your face as he inspected the stitches on your head.

“You could never be beautiful”, he mumbled under his breath, easing the last corner of your plaster off and then sitting back to assess the sight before him. Bucky’s face dropped causing your heartbeat to increase frantically in your chest.

“What? Is it bad? Bucky what is it?!” you asked desperately. Racing across the bed, you tried to pick up the hand mirror to have a look yourself but Bucky snatched it up before you could grab it, holding it at arm's length so that you couldn’t reach it.

“I’m not sure that you’ll want to see this Doll”, his voice was low and thick with concern.

“Oh my god Bucky please tell me, has it healed wrong?” You were really beginning to panic now, about to call for Steve to come and help when Bucky’s hard exterior broke and a taunting grin spread across his face making his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“You look just as beautiful mama”, he affectionately whispered, kissing your cheek and handing the mirror to you to show that the injury was nearly completely healed, only a different toned colour lay on your forehead, the stitches mostly invisible.

You rolled your eyes dramatically realising that he had been teasing you, “That wasn’t nice Barnes”.

“Ah, but you love me”, he mocked, lips brushing against yours softly, only enough to feel the slightest pressure of his soft lips.

“Yes I do”, you gave in instantly, using your uninjured hand to cup his jaw tenderly, stroking against his slightly stubbled skin, holding him there to kiss more deeply.

Before anything became too heated, Bucky was pulling back, pecking the tip of your nose before helping you into his arms to carry down for some dinner.

This was how it had been since returning from the hospital. It wasn’t that you were rushing to be intimate with them but they were both so adamant about your healing that there had been a very strict: no-touching rule. At first, when it even hurt to move you were more than happy to comply with the instruction but as your mobility improved and their kisses began to linger for longer or hands would wash over your body with more intent than to clean your skin, it was becoming more difficult to resist the urges that you were experiencing.

Downstairs, Steve was preparing a stew for you all, chopping the vegetables on the counter and smiling over his shoulder as he saw you and Bucky approaching. As Bucky placed you at the dinner table that was in the sizeable kitchen, Steve wiped his hand on the kitchen towel and sauntered over, leaning his arms on either side of your chair, his eyes level with your revealed head injury.

“It’s looking good isn’t it?” Bucky commented as he took over Steve’s job of chopping up the vegetables.

“It does, and it’ll keep looking better with each day, the Doctor did a good job of fixing up my baby”, Steve responded, his finger under your chin to tilt your head back so he could leave a searing kiss against your mouth. Your body leaned into a kiss and then he was moving away far too prematurely, leaving you wanting more but you didn’t verbalise this, not having the heart to complain after they’d been looking after you so much.

“Could I… Could I help in some way please?” you asked, looking hopefully between Steve and Bucky as they continued with prepping dinner. The two glanced at each other before Steve walked over with a chopping board, knife and carrot that had already been peeled. “Thank you!” you beamed up at him, happy that even though there were so many things that they were willing to help you with, they did try and give you some independence.

Not that it was easy to try and chop up a carrot with one hand still in a solid cast so after far too many attempts at sawing into the carrot, you decided instead to slam the knife down in sharp chops, leaving the carrot in three large chunks.

“Um… done!” you nervously announced to the boys.

Steve returned to pick up the chopping board, “good job, baby”, he praised, kissed the top of your head and you grinned as he placed the carrots in with the rest of the mixture, even though it was extremely obvious which carrot you had chopped compared to Bucky’s thinly sliced carrots. You loved the way they handled you, there was no hint of condescension from either of them when you tried to help and it was all to help you get back into a routine of normality.

Even if they did still continue to feed you which you secretly enjoyed now as it meant you get to sit in either of their laps and feel close to them.

That evening, you asked if you could have a bath which they were happy to help you into, Bucky was in charge of keeping your arm and leg outside of the tub to not get the cast wet and wrapping them both in cling film took entirely too long. Whereas Steve was in charge of washing your body with a sponge slathered in shower gel, another insistence from them both, even though you were more than capable of washing your body with your other hand.

You couldn’t wait for these damn casts to be off, “I can’t wait to have a shower”, you vocalised to them both, watching as Steve washed across your shoulders from where he sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Hmm. I am going to miss this though”, Steve observed, not hiding that he loved being able to look after you. Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the little pamper session but as the sponge grazed over your perked nippled, you couldn’t help but lean into the touch, a moan forming in the back of your throat.

Steve’s chuckle had you looking up at him through half-lidded eyes as he asked, “Did you like that, baby girl?”

“Yes”, you admitted, watching as he did it again, paying particular attention to the very peaks of your nipples and then rubbing over the rest of your breasts in circular movements.

There was nothing you wanted more than to feel their bodies pressed against yours but with your limited use and weakness throughout your entire body, even with your good hand, you knew you’d tire quickly and not be able to satisfy them so you still refrained from asking them to fully pleasure you.

“You’re so beautiful, Mama”, Bucky watched with dark eyes, licking his lips almost hungrily and you whined at the sight, back arching more into Steve’s movements.

As the sponge moved over your body, through the water that lapped against the edges of the porcelain tub, you noticed the way that Steve was pressing more firmly on certain areas, especially in between your legs that had you grinding to feel more.

But like all of the other times, he never made a move to go any further and you were feeling more sexually frustrated than you had before, even after they both helped to dry you with a towel, in between your legs remained damp as your juices still trickled out.

Bucky carried you to the bed, placing you in the middle, the same as every night and you were completely naked, something that you had quickly decided was the comfiest, it always takes far too long to put on your pyjamas when Steve and Bucky always wrapped around you and kept you warm.

As you settled into the bed, leg again propped up on multiple pillows, you waited patiently for the boys to both join you as they cleaned the bathroom. However today, it was taking far too long and if you concentrated hard enough, you could hear them both talking quietly to one another.

As you opened your mouth to ask what was taking them so long, they joined back in the bedroom, removing their clothes, save for their boxers, switched the lights off and clambered into bed. As their overtly warm skin smoothed against yours, your questions slipped into the back of your mind, finding their comfort already distracting.

With a kiss on each of your cheeks, you closed your eyes to try and go to sleep and ignore the agonising ache in your core. But it seemed Bucky had other ideas as his hand rested on your abdomen, over your belly button, his thumb stroking the skin in slow circles as his hand dripped lower and lower.

You didn’t stop him, chest rising and falling with increasing speed as his fingers teased over your mound, the lowest that they’d been since between the accident. Your breath caught in your throat, screaming in your mind for him to keep going, to dip that little bit lower.

Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, the touch distracting you from the one teasing to push between your legs as he forced your head to turn in the direction of where he lay. Opening your eyes, even in the dark you could see his intense stare, as he began to speak, his minty breath coated your face, “Do you want us to keep touching you, baby?”

“Yes”, you sounded more desperate than you’d hoped to, his question feeling like some sort of light in the darkness, now realising this must have been what they had spoken about in the bathroom.

“You sure you’re feeling up to it?”, he continued to ask, his fingers moving over your jaw and down your throat, grazing over your collarbone and still lower until hovering over your left nipple.

“Yes, fuck yes”, you groaned, arching up to feel his hand but he kept it far enough away that you didn’t get the touch you wanted.

“If you get too tired and overwhelmed, will you tell us?”

“I promise!”, you pleaded, moving your unbroken leg to the side slightly, giving Bucky more room. “But…But I also want to touch you, I want you both to feel good!”

It was Bucky who spoke next, his mouth moving to graze the shell of your ear as he tutted, “Not tonight Doll, let us make you feel good, wanna hear your sweet moans, you deserve this, you’ve done so well”.

You were moaning before his fingers even slipped lower but as the tip of his middle finger grazed between your folds and touched against your throbbing clit, your whole body seemed to come alight.

Steve's fingers then lowered as well, in time with Bucky, pressing against your nipples and he groaned at just how hard they were, gently pinching and tweaking them before grasping the entire breast and massaging the tissue.

“You’re so wet for me Honey, is this what you wanted? Did you want us to touch you here?” Bucky teased before nipping the lobe of your ear.

“Wanted it so bad!”, you gasped as Bucky moved lower, finding your hole and circling it a few times, feeling just how soaked for him that you were before pushing in a single digit, not stopping until it was all the way in. “Bucky!”

Your walls fluttered around him, having not been penetrated for what felt like so long now and he was careful to start slow, really building up the pressure which matched with Steve’s hands on your chest, was already driving you insane with arousal.

In and out his finger slowly moved, his thumb skillfully brushing over your clit to match his pace. Then he was adding another finger and your leg widened further, thighs shaking slightly as you had to refrain from reaching out for them both, knowing that you’d end up knocking your broken wrist so kept them at your sides.

“That feels so good Bucky,” you praised, turning your head towards him.

“Yeah? Want me to make you cum, Mama?” he asked, his lips now hovering over yours.

“Yes, please!”.

As his lips met yours, hastily moving against each other, Bucky’s fingers began to curl and his thumb applied more pressure. Every nerve in your body seemed to come alive as they were being pleasured and you were experiencing the ultimate thrill. Your core was tightening with each tug against your g-spot, chest rising and falling harshly into Steve’s grasp as he moved between each breast, each sending sparks straight to your cunt.

You were a wet, babbling mess when the overwhelming sensation to cum took over, not even having time to tell your boyfriends but they already knew you were close and began touching you with more urgency.

Your pussy began clenching in quick succession as your orgasm destroyed you, pulling away from Bucky so you had space to scream out his name, hips bucking widely at the touch until it became too sensitive.

Bucky eased his wet fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips and humming at your exquisite taste that he’d been desperate to taste for so long.

Steve gave you another moment to gather yourself before his fingers began to fill you up, replacing where Bucky was, two fingers rocking in and out as his thumb rolled your clit in a circle. Bucky’s metal fingers then teased your pebbled nipples, the cool feeling making you gasp more.

“Let’s see just how many more we can get from you, baby” Steve growled into your neck, sucking the sensitive skin.

“Yes, Daddy”, you moaned whilst lost in your ecstasy.

Steve and Bucky worked well together, knowing exactly when to slow down their movements, letting you get used to the sensations before ramping up the speed and pressures, bringing you to the peak of orgasm before starting again. They took it in turns until your breasts were sore and puffy and your hole ached and your juices soaked the sheets below.

You were a mumbling mess when they determined that you had enough, your entire body feeling like it was floating and light as Steve licked his fingers clean one more time before tucking you in close to his side.

“You feeling ok, Doll?” Bucky asked, sliding in close as well, his arm wrapping around your middle.

“Mmm so so good”, you muttered, eyes drooping close with exhaustion. “I can’t wait to take these casts off so I can repay the favour”.

Steve’s checked vibrated against your ear as he chuckled, kissing the top of your head, “Get some rest, my love”.

#stucky smut #stucky x reader #mafia au #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #marvel smut #mine*

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greatstormcat · 2 months

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Have a little something for gn!reader and Price. I will leave it up to you to decide what the fight was about....

TW: SFW, angst/hurt with no comfort

The rain is gathering in larger puddles, soon beginning to join and merge into small pools and ponds. All but the most determined people have long since given up trying to traverse the waterlogged road and taken up shelter where they can get it. Even the birds have abandoned flight for the day, secluded in their nests and under eaves of the buildings around them.

The grey light that filters through the never ending cloud is barely strong enough to make the day seem more than daybreak, when in truth it is past midday now. Everything is dull, wet and miserable, and that suits your mood just fine.

Leaning on the open window ledge, letting the chill into the bedroom, you breathe in the damp air. You hope the sensation will stir you into life, make you uncomfortable enough to take action and move away, but the cold just adds to the leaden feeling in your limbs. The lethargy and numbness that plagues you has its hooks in too deep to be so easily shaken off. It’s almost a part of you.

“Are you going to talk to me or not?” a deep voice asks, a bone weariness interwoven into the words that matches your own. An icy feeling creeps into your chest that has nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with the speaker. The chair he is sitting in creaks, followed by the floorboards complaining about taking his weight as he approaches your silent form.

You fight the urge to shrink into yourself as he leans against the window ledge as well, the smell of cigar smoke clinging to his clothes and drifting to your nose. John makes a point of not touching you, or respecting the boundary you put up many hours ago, when the sun hadn’t even come up yet and your words heated the room like a furnace, now extinguished. All that anger left when the sun came up, obscured by the clouds, leaving you a hollow shell.

“I wish you’d say something,” he murmurs into the silence, unable to handle your quiet as well as he had your fury.

“I’ve said plenty,” you reply, voice hoarse and cracked. You play with the engagement ring on your finger, a modest thing with a single diamond. He’d known your preference for simplicity when he’d bought it and given it to you a year ago. Twisting it on your finger it manages to catch the feeble light and sparkle weakly, catching his eye. You hear him hold his breath, a heavy pause as he weighs up the possibility you may hand it back to him at this moment.

“You have,” he nods solemnly, “you’ve made yourself clear.” His head drops, a deep breath exhaled through his nose as though having to carry out an order he disagrees with, but cannot counter. After a moment he stands up straight, pulling the bottom of his shirt and snapping the wrinkles from it before turning sharply on his heel and stalking towards the door.

You want to turn and watch him, but you're frozen to the spot, the only warmth in your body pooling in your eyes and throat as tears burn you. Frigid fingers clench together as you try to muffle your weak sob, but the door opens then shuts firmly as he leaves. You count the steps as he marches down the stairs, the sounds becoming more distant until you hear nothing more than the rain outside as it patters against everything in sight.

A loud yell of frustration and the sound of something smashing downstairs makes you flinch, and this is enough to let the tears begin to fall down your cheeks. After a few moments, the front door opens, then slams, and John strides to his car, his bag on his back once again, still unpacked from his mission, and he gets in without giving you a single glance upwards. With a roar the engine comes to life and he peels out of the driveway, lights reflecting on the wet road and until it rounds the corner out of sight.

You have no idea if he will even come back, so you slip off the ring and place it on the window ledge.

Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @iloveslasher @thecubanator2 @bossva @itsyogirlranii @xxladysquishyxx @murder-hobo @aulescev @tiredmetalenthusiast @haurasha @evolutionarry @lunamoonbby @cryingpages @yawning-grave81 @daniblogs164 @rantingraquel @waves-against-a-cliff @letmelickyoureyeballs @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @thatonepupkai @anubisisthebomb @beebeechaos @ladyxtiger @ashy-kit @meepmeepmeep1011111 @cassiecasluciluce @confuseddipshit @mandythemint @ihatethinkingofnames10 @torchbearerkyle @jinxxangel13 @darkangel4121 @cringeycookies @ttsbaby01 @supernaturalstilinski @thesinsoflust @lovifie @hayleybarnesx @katzykat @airyonna15 @hxnneydew @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @callsign-pyro @neoarchipelago @kaoyamamegami @dij-ology @blush-haze @imkumichan

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dedalvs · 1 month

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Hi! Hope you're doing well. I was reading a fantasy webcomic with some Deaf characters and was wondering: what adjustments to the language creation processes would a conlanger have to make for creating a sign language? Thanks!

The short answer is relatively few. Sign languages are languages and do all the same things with a different phonology. So long as you understand the phonology of a sign language you can create a sign language.

The long answer is here. That's a thing I wrote up called SLIPA (Sign Language IPA). Due to the fact that the potential for iconicity with gesture is greater than with sound there's a lot more onomatopoeia in a sign language than in a spoken language. To explicate, onomatopoeia in spoken language is a word that imitates the sound of the referent (splash, crash, plunk, boing). In a sign language, it's a sign that imitates the look of the referent (ASL TREE, for example). Since it's possible to be more iconic, sign languages take advantage of that fact. Consequently, you don't find sign languages that DON'T take advantage of it and are purely abstract. There are also things that are hard or impractical in a spoken language that are simple in a sign language simply due to the medium (e.g. full number incorporation in the ASL words for WEEK and MONTH). Finally, there are a lot of "on the fly" verbs that are created that have no obvious analog in a spoken language. It's something like the sentential words of a polysynthetic language combined with imitative sounds in a spoken language to describe a body in motion.

In other words, because there are things you can do in a sign language simply due to the medium that you can't do in a spoken language, sign languages often do those things. It would be strange (i.e. non-human) if they didn't. If you're aiming to create a secret sign language, perhaps you intentionally don't take advantage of those things. It's possible to create a purely abstract sign language, but it would be a fairly obvious construct the way Ithkuil is very obviously not a plausible human language (i.e. it could never have evolved naturally to be the way it is). This might be a fun thing to do for a fictional setting—a totally non-iconic sign language created for secret communication. This is, essentially, what I did with the Atreides sign language in Dune (as opposed to the other sign language I created for the first film that wasn't used). Even that one, though, takes advantage of iconicity in a way that a truly abstract sign language need not. This is because part of the secrecy of the language is the way it's used. Others aren't even supposed to see it—and if they do, they're supposed to dismiss it as hand twitches. You could make an obvious sign language (i.e. it's obvious these characters are signing to each other) but with really, really weird associations—like pointing to your interlocutor means "sky", where eveyrone looking on will think it means "you".

Anyway, just some thoughts. This is an underexplored area of conlanging, but due to the simplicity of video creation and sharing nowadays, it's something that's worth exploring. Back in 2006 when I wrote up SLIPA it wasn't practical to take videos and upload them. It was possible, certainly—we had high speed internet and websites—but we didn't have smartphones, I don't think YouTube existed yet, most frontend UI didn't have video embedding as a feature of its platform, etc. We were lightyears ahead of the internet as we understood it in the 90s, so 2006 would be much more familiar to the people of 2024 than the people of 1994, but smartphones and social media (and its infrastructure) really changed the nature of capturing and sharing video. Conlangers have taken advantage of that in every way EXCEPT creating, documenting, and sharing CSLs (created sign languages).

Like (I don't want to go off on a tangent here) you can have an entire YouTube account that is just a dictionary. ASL already does this. Go on YouTube and type "ASL sign for [whatever]". There are tons of videos that are like 10-15 seconds long that are just demonstrations of a single sign from different angles, all made by Deaf signers. And the videos don't need sound! You don't have to worry about audio quality, microphones, etc. You can actually use YouTube to document an entire sign language. No one's done it yet. Why not?

Anyway, those are my thoughts. Hope this helps.

#conlang #language #ithkuil #sign language #deaf #csl #slipa #youtube #language creation #video #dictionary #deaf sign language

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cogentranting · 6 months

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In The Marvels there's a vulnerability to Carol that we don't really get in her earlier appearances. There's a few glimpses of it in Captain Marvel, but not much, and it's certainly not visible in Endgame (not as a fault of that movie, she's just not very close to the center of that movie). But I find the exploration of that in this movie really appealing.

You have this woman who is incredibly capable, incredibly powerful, and generally very self-sufficient. And you see the way that over the years that's worn her down. She's the mighty Captain Marvel-- one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. And she's absorbed that view of herself, that that is who she needs to be all the time. She needs to carry it all, to fix it all.

As Captain Marvel that's meant that she works alone and she's always off to fix a new problem. More importantly, it led to her nearly disastrous decision to destroy the Supreme Intelligence, and from there to an inability to directly confront that failure (tactically or emotionally) or to accept help in fixing it.

As Carol, it's cut her off from anyone else except a few carefully distanced professional friendships-- she is friends with Fury, and Valkyrie, and Yan, but there's also a coolness there, and with all we're given the impression that she keeps them at arm's length and only comes around when necessary. And again its created an even bigger problem-- she stayed away from Maria until Maria was dying, and never came back to Monica at all.

It's never directly connected for us in the movie, but there's a pretty clear connection here back to the first movie. That careful distance wasn't present with Yon-Rogg. With him she was playful, open, she'd come to his room in the middle of the night. She trusted him. And she was utterly betrayed. He used her, trapped her, manipulated her, stole her life and her memories, tried to kill her. And back then, she only regained her identity when she broke free from him. That experience has made her wary.

But she's also just off-balance. Her memories were taken and she still hasn't fully gotten them back, so she's unsteady in those old relationships. And she's indestructible and powerful but it does her no good in dealing with actual relationships. She meets a problem that she can't punch or blast, and her flight instinct kicks in.

So when The Marvels starts out, those years of being alone and trying to be Atlas carrying the world on her back, have left her shaky. She's scared to talk to Monica. When she does come face to face with Monica, and Monica initially rejects her, Carol visibly shrinks. In dealing with Dar Benn, she's running scared--not scared of Dar Benn, but scared of failing again or messing things up more, and it makes her impulsive, and causes her to push away Monica and Kamala. And it's all a vulnerability that she covers up with cockiness and bravado. She doesn't show people that vulnerability. Instead she shows them the invincible Captain Marvel who can fly into suns and move planets.

And this movie uses the power-switching to handcuff her to two other people to force her out of that destructive pattern of total self-reliance and running from being close to anyone. It physically will not let her run away from Monica and Kamala, and it turns her attempts to do things by herself against her.

Kamala is there to model for Carol a sort of emotional openness that she hasn't known in a long time (if ever). Her heart is all the way out on her sleeve and Carol needs to see that. When Monica discusses her mom's death, Kamala literally shows Carol what to do on the simplest level by hugging Monica and forcing Carol into that hug. And it matters that Kamala is a child doing this, because that simplicity is key. Carol doesn't need to FIX the situation, and Kamala isn't burdened by that mindset. Kamala can approach with this childlike openness and simplicity, not overcomplicating it by trying to find the perfect thing to say or do, and it turns out that's all Carol needs to do too. And so simple hugs become incredibly powerful in this movie because it's just about being willing to be there with some and to hold them, and in the end Carol gives that back to Kamala when they hug after losing Monica.

And for her part, Monica models to Carol that you can be strong and part of a team. Monica has grown up and become a captain and become a superhero. She's incredibly capable. And also very very comfortable working as part of a team. So despite her tension with Carol, she's able to bring that easy team dynamic to the group and get Carol to embrace the team instead of being hampered by it.

Once Carol is able be at ease with being vulnerable, once she can open herself up to others, once she can share her burdens, that's when she finally is able to come home to Earth after nearly 40 years.

#the marvels #mcu #carol danvers #the marvels spoilers

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hobie-enthusiast · 10 months

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Thinking about Hobie Brown and his guitar pick.

Hobie’s possessive of the things he has. For a long while, he had nothing. So everything he does have has significant meaning to him, and he plans on protecting them. A perfect example is his guitar, which is always right by him. And with that, the small blue and red pick he keeps in his pocket.

The pick was custom made. A good friend of his made it, and Hobie added his spider symbol on it to go with his overall look. It was a dingy little pick, but it got the work done. Some of his best songs were played with that pick, and he treasures it.

His possession was the same when he got together with you. Even before the two of you were “labeled”, he was always at your side. It was like an unspoken point between you two. There wasn’t anything to define the two of you, at least, until someone truly questioned it. Only then did Hobie casually say you were dating, which put a smile on your face.

You know of Hobie’s nature, and what he had it with. You noticed the little things, like yourself or his guitar for starters. His hair was a big one, you noticed that. And a small one was the little pick from his vest pocket. It seemed special to him, and you wanted to know more.

So imagine his surprise when you ask about the little thing. You noticed how he held onto it a lot, how it was always on him. It was the same one in all the years you’d known him, so you finally asked about it. He muses, analyzing it through his fingertips.

“Custom made, love. ‘s impor’ant t’ me.”

He gladly explains the intent behind each part of the pick, little details pointed out between both of you. He notices your seeming fascination with such a little thing, and when he asks, you explain that you’re interested because he loves it. And though Hobie is surprised at your answer, an idea forms in your head.

His idea? Put said pick on a chain and allow you to wear it as a necklace.

You were then the one surprised when he presented it to you, insisting you wear it. He punched a small hole through the top, wiring a chain through it, clasping it together to make a simple necklace. Despite its simplicity, it held a lot of meaning to you both. That’s why you question if he’s absolutely sure he wants to give this to you. But he’s insistent as he clasps it around your neck.

“‘m sure, swee’heart. Le’s people know ‘ur taken, yeah? Taken by me.”

Thinking about Hobie Brown and the guitar pick necklace he would give you.

#SHORT STORY || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv hobie

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hadesrise · 27 days

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beware of the nicest guy.

summary ➳ even the nicest guy turns violent when provoked. patience isn’t forever.

pairings ➳ sweet pea x male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, violence, reggie being an asshole, foul language, homophobia, homophobic slur, mentions of being ganged up, broken bones, blood, no use of (y/n)

author’s note ➳ i’ve always done this trope, haven’t i? 😔 previously written on closedmadness, edited. that one will be deleted.

Northsiders refusing to welcome Southsiders isn’t an unfamiliar matter in the northside of Riverdale. Nearly everyone was the same; prejudice littered across the town with judgmental stares and narrow-mindedness that serves as immaturity, their lack of human decency evident with the way they’d rather spread hatred and negativity than actually get to know the Southsiders.

It’s gotten a lot boring, if the Southside Serpents were being honest.

Being constantly picked on by Reggie Mantle and the Bulldogs while the others watched, it was getting too old and unamusing for the gang. There’s nothing new to the way Reggie spits insults after insults that doesn’t even offend them in the slightest, the lack of creativity just making him seem like an unloved child. His mouth continuously moved despite the Serpents displaying a bored look on their faces, his superiority complex getting the best of him and causing him to be blind to his surroundings.

It was supposed to be the same; get picked on, everyone ignores, the Bulldogs get tired and leave, just like that. However, a new unfamiliar presence disrupted the routine that everyone seemingly fell into.

Adorned in an indie outfit of white button down, brown vest and khaki trousers that’s almost out of place in Riverdale High from its simplicity, you hurriedly walked towards the commotion and separated the Bulldogs from the Serpents by shoving Reggie back. The jock stumbled back from the force before glaring at you, who didn’t hesitate to stand tall in front of the Southsiders without much thought.

The Serpents who were in front, Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs seemed taken aback by your protective stance, how you stood as if you were shielding them from the stupid jocks. They stared at the back of your head as you stared at Reggie, deeply unimpressed.

“Won’t there be a day where I don’t hear you making a fuss?” You asked rhetorically, sighing and adjusting the files you were holding in one arm. “It’s about time you grow up and act like your age, Mantle.”

Reggie sarcastically smiled, ignoring your remarks. “If it isn’t the nicest guy in Riverdale.” He tilted his head, “You would get nothing out of defending these fuckers, Mr. President. It’s only pointless, so get out of my way.”

“Picking on them is also pointless, what are you exactly trying to prove?” You retort, raising one of your eyebrows and shoving your empty hand in the pocket of your trousers. “This childish and immature actions must be definitely coming from being spoiled like a brat by your parents, but I assure you, you look nothing like but a pathetic attention-seeking bitch for going after people that couldn’t even give a single penny to care about you.”

A snicker erupts from behind you, undoubtedly from a couple of the Serpents, as Reggie clenched his jaw and stepped forward with a harsh glare.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m sure you’re not deaf.” You fiercely met his eyes, unbothered by how he looks like he could punch you any moment. “I’m also sure what I said was true, but you’ll only prove me right if you attack me right now.” Your eyes cunningly glinted under the school lights.

Reggie grits his teeth, glares at the Serpents for a few moments before turning around to walk away, his teammates following behind.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as soon as he was out of sight, pinching the bridge of your nose under your round spectacles and turning around in your place to see the Serpents still standing there, observing you. They all plastered a curiosity on their faces since you were a new sight to them, someone who had never caught their eyes before. It’s also intriguing how you seem much more… nonchalant and mature than the other students, your atmosphere holding calmness that’s rare to find in people they’ve encountered.

“I apologize on their behalf. I know you could’ve handled it by yourselves, but settling things down is my job around here.” You formed an apologetic smile, which surprised them, along with the friendliness in your tone. No one had ever talked or looked at them like that. It was strange to interact with someone who had no malice or negativity in the atmosphere.

“Don’t be sorry!” Toni grinned, holding her hand out. “I’m Toni. These are Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

You shook her hand and introduced yourself before looking at the two guys on both of her sides, Sweet Pea’s eyes lingering on you causing you to flash him a shy smile and look back at Toni, gesturing to her pink hair. “I really like your hair, it’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” She happily fluffed her hair with her hands.

“This is probably your first time seeing me here, I’m actually the school president although Cheryl likes to act more like it.” You explained with a chuckle.

Sweet Pea raised his brows, “How come you’re not around?”

“I’ve been doing charity work for my family’s business,” You shrugged. “Teaching kids basic lessons, serving foods and drinks to people in need, visiting nursing homes, taking care of people with disability, something like that. My family’s business provide help to all community that needs a helping hand.”

Your explanation left them impressed as their eyes fell on the files in your arm, some posters and documents sticking out from it. There were also sticky notes and note tabs that shows your effort to the project, which revealed your genuineness to help people. Perhaps, Reggie Mantle was really telling the truth when he said you’re the nicest guy in Riverdale. The way you smiled was genuine and warm, as if it came from the bottom of your heart, looking at them with nothing but kindness and friendliness behind your bright eyes that sparkles in excitement.

Toni found you adorable, your softness coming off as unexpected from your sophisticated attitude. Fangs found you cool, your lack of hesitation in calling out other’s bullshit even when people were just muttering among themselves making him laugh and want to befriend you more.

Sweet Pea, on the other hand, found you endearing. You were like a bright soul that got lost in a jungle full of animals, the only sane and more human person in this town. Your soothing laugh tugs at the strings on his heart as warmth spreads across his chest, an unfamiliar feeling building up in his stomach. He admires the way you push your glasses up with one finger when it slides down, the way you furrow your brows when concentrating, the way your fingers flip the page of the files you’ve made by yourself.

You had enthusiastically joined them in class when you found out they shared the same one as you, choosing to sit near them so you’ll be able to have hushed conversations while the teacher discussed some nonsense.

Everyday, you would spend time with them despite the amount of students wanting to converse with you, becoming some sort of an unofficial member of their little circle as you share them some accomplishments you’ve achieved. Getting taught by you in their studies proved to be so much effective than listening to boring professors when Sweet Pea discovered he actually excelled at mathematics while Toni at history and Fangs at science, with Jughead not being surprised at the outcome. He did expect it since you were one of the most excellent students.

The four of them occupied the seats on the corner of the classroom, Jughead and Toni on the last row with Sweet Pea and Fangs on the front, unbothered by the subtle looks being thrown their way as you sat in front of them concentrated on a paper. You were seemingly working on another project for your family business.

Sweet Pea couldn’t help but stare at you, admiring how your structured features shift each time you come up with ideas. He wanted to ask you on something about the paperwork he was doing, but admiring you first seemed ideal in his head.

Feeling someone drill a hole on the side of your face, you turned to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes and your features softened, a warm smile spreading across your lips. He made sure to engrave it in his eyes.

“What’s up, Pea? You’re staring.” You chuckled, sounding like a soothing melody in Sweet Pea’s ears as his face also softens.

“I kinda need help with this,” He says, voice uncharacteristically quiet and warm, scooting closer to show you his notebook. “You okay with me bothering you for a bit?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged and settled your pen on top of the desk, fully facing him to start explaining where he didn’t understand. Sweet Pea kept nodding each time you explained, his gaze never leaving your face yet still understanding everything you say, a subtle almost peaceful smile across his lips.

Both of you had failed to notice the three of your friends burning holes into the two of you.

“Are they…?” Jughead trailed off, pointing at you.

Both Toni and Fangs shook their heads, “Not yet, unfortunately.” They replied in sync before Fangs adds, “Though I think it’s a matter of time before Sweets make a move.”

“Bet,” Jughead smirks.

They weren’t wrong.

The Serpents and the Corefour with Kevin and Cheryl gathered in the cafeteria, unbothered by looks shot by Northsiders as they conversed among one another, light meals in front of each of them with the exception of Sweet Pea who was restlessly drumming on the table with his hands. He keeps looking back at the entrance, as if he expects someone to barge in any moment.

Toni and Fangs exchanged a glance with smirks before Jughead nudged Sweet Pea lightly to catch his attention. “Where’s your lunch?”

“Didn’t get any,” The tall serpent shrugged, but failing to hide his excitement despite his attempt.

“Right, ‘cause your boyfriend’s making you one.” Toni snickers, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. Sweet Pea scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist the smile spreading across his lips.

The cafeteria doors opened as you finally enter with a lunch box and box of cupcakes in both hands, your eyes scanning across the room before falling on your boyfriend. A smile easily crossing Sweet Pea’s face when you waved enthusiastically and started rushing towards their table.

He immediately pulls you to sit on his lap and you peck him on the lips as a greeting, making your friends let out awes. You giggled after pulling away, making him smile. “What’s up, baby?”

“I made a lunch for you,” You showed him the round metallic lunch box with an excited grin. “It’s really not much, but I’m confident with my cooking skills so I promise it’s not poisonous. I also baked cupcakes!” Placing the lunch box in front of Sweet Pea on the table, you set the box of cupcakes down in the middle to ensure it wasn’t just for your lover.

Sweet Pea’s eyes sparkled in joy, his atmosphere radiating happiness that the Serpents had almost never seen him with. His anger issues tend to be the most noticeable trait of him, but ever since he got with you, they feel like it calmed down a bit. He kisses you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude before opening the lunch box and coming across his favourite foods, making his smile widen if that was possible. It made you smile softly, ruffling the back of his hair.

“Aww, aren’t there any for us?” Fangs asked, his arm thrown around Kevin’s shoulders.

“I want some too,” Toni whines beside Cheryl, attempting to reach her hand into the lunch box but being swatted lightly by Sweet Pea with a glare.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You laughed at their interaction and gestured to the thick and big box of cupcakes, “I couldn’t make lunch so I over-baked some cupcakes. Sorry pals, maybe next time.”

Everyone letting out cheers and noises of excitement, Cheryl stands up to open the big package and distribute each, the delicious sweet scent of baked goods making them sniff it. Awing at the sight of different flavoured cupcakes, Fangs couldn’t help but take a bite of his chocolate flavoured one, letting out satisfied noises before holding it out for Kevin to have a taste.

You also picked a banana flavoured cupcake for yourself after observing their reactions, pleased at the satisfaction and pleasant surprise coating their faces. Having a mother who opened her own bakery by your house had its perks; you were able to learn how to bake and cook many things through helping her, making it your new hobby. It also helped greatly in terms of charity work — you can share foods to people who aren’t financially capable and give them the opportunity to taste what they’ve never tasted before. Your father became even more proud that you’ve found more ways than one to help the people in need.

“This is so fucking good,” Sweet Pea remarks while munching on the lunch you gave him, oblivious to the loving gaze you had on him.

Everyone watches with soft smiles on their faces, how equally in love with each other you looked despite the obvious differences between your upbringing.

It came as a shock to everyone — except the Serpents — when the news spread that the nicest guy in Riverdale and the rage filled Serpent were dating. Some people placed a bet on how long it will last, some people showed their prejudice and disappointment, some people genuinely didn’t care.

Offhanded commentators were quickly shut off when the two of you displayed affection and love towards each other and ignored them entirely. No one could even tell you in person how much you let them down for associating with the worst one of Serpents because you always acted ignorant with too much happiness. If someone were to tell you that it was a terrible choice to date Sweet Pea, they were met with your passive-aggressive remarks on questionable choices they’ve made in the past that you somehow knew about. It got terrifying, to say the least.

The difference in your upbringing, status, or anything else didn’t matter at all. Neither of you judged each other for what you are.

Sweet Pea never questioned your unconditional kindness despite feeling upset when you let assholes slide, instead choosing to get angry at them for your sake. You never questioned his status as a gang member despite the several unpleasant rumours about Southside Serpents, instead choosing to learn what he does in their daily life and educate yourself.

The two of you fit together perfectly like a puzzle, as if you were each other’s missing piece. Arguments happen sometimes, but it’s quickly finished before the next day.

Really funny how the most healthy and non-toxic relationship in all of Riverdale is between a young Serpent and a young Humanitarian.

Unsurprisingly, the Serpents were quick to treat you as their own even before Sweet Pea had begun dating you. Your lack of judgment made every single one of them comfortable in your presence, often greeting you wherever you go and even helping you out when you need an extra hand, unafraid to be themselves knowing you wouldn’t think low of them. Your boyfriend’s friends were the most happiest at how their gang was being treated by you; all of them had nearly forgotten what it’s like to be seen as normal.

However, one question always remained in the back of their heads.

Could you get violent if pushed hard enough?

You never were.

There’s always an angelic halo floating above your head no matter where you go and no matter how aggressive your mouth gets. Sure, you spit out impressive insults sometimes when you get truly irritated by some idiotic behaviour, but that never really changed anyone’s perspective that you couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.

You were still soft, still kind. It’s impossible to even think about you having violent outbursts, it just seems too uncharacteristic of you.

Sweet Pea was always the one to throw fists when someone insults you knowing you’d never defend yourself. He’s the hot-headed while you were the cool-headed. It’s always been like that, and everyone refused to believe otherwise. After all, how can a Humanitarian go against what they usually do — helping people?

The obnoxious sound of Bulldogs’ laughter causes your smile to vanish in an instant as they approach with Reggie in front, leading them like a pack of filthy dogs as usual. Your friends stopped as well, each displaying a look of annoyance.

“What a bunch of losers sharing lil’ cupcakes,” Reggie mocks, earning snickers from his teammates.

Veronica rolled her eyes at their childishness, “Oh my god, just leave.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Reggie spat and Veronica was quick to hold her boyfriend Archie back, shaking her head to tell him it isn’t worth it. The Bulldogs laughed when the ginger sat back down, cockiness evident on their body language.

You caught Reggie eyeing the remaining cupcakes that were left on the box and quickly pulled it away before he could even reach a hand out, not noticing the way Sweet Pea was quieter than usual despite his nemesis’ arrival. “This isn’t yours, kid. Don’t even try taking one.” You sternly scolded, moving off of Sweet Pea’s lap to sit beside him closer to Reggie.

“Don’t fucking call me kid, I ain’t one.” The jock hissed, sharply glaring at you.

“Then quit acting like one.” You retort without missing a beat.

Letting out a scoff, Reggie’s lips twist up in a sneer. “At least I’m not acting like a pathetic little fag hanging out with other fags.”

“Reginald!” Cheryl shouts with disbelief, standing up abruptly at the same time Sweet Pea slammed his fist on the table while shooting Reggie a death glare. You quickly hold his bicep to calm him down, not wanting him to get in trouble. Everyone held unpleasant looks towards the nasty slur he just uttered, disgusted by his nerve.

“Fucking asshole,” Toni spat distastefully.

The Bulldogs laughed her off to themselves like a bunch of hyenas before Reggie’s gaze fell on Sweet Pea that didn’t seem to let his fist talk this time, a knowing smirk crossing his face. “What’s up, bro? You’re too quiet, we hit you too hard last time or something?”

You scowled and looked back at your boyfriend to see him glaring threateningly at Reggie, as if he was avoiding your gaze. “What is he talking about, Pea?” You question with a stern tone, then repeated it to the jock when he doesn’t answer, “What are you talking about?”

Reggie raised his brows, “You know nothing?”

“What are you talking about, Mantle.” You emphasised through gritted teeth.

Seeming amused by your slight impatience, Reggie tilts his head and mockingly chuckles under his breath. “Your little boyfriend here seems like he doesn’t know his place, so we taught him a lesson is all. You should put a tight leash on your dog if you don’t want dudes to jump him.”

Disbelief and anger morphed on your face, about to stand up from your seat to confront him more, only to feel Sweet Pea’s arm wrap around your torso to keep you in place. “Baby, don’t.” He whispered.

“What the hell, Reggie?” Betty gives him an incredulous look.

“Unfortunate that he didn’t fight back. Would’ve long been kicked out and thrown in jail if he did.” Reggie snickered along with his teammates before walking away, flipping the box of cupcakes in the process.

You glared after them with a clenched jaw and turned to Sweet Pea, your bright eyes piercing right through him that forced him to make eye contact with you despite his urge to avoid it. “Where are you hurt?” Your tone soft yet an edge to it, a suppressed anger only noticeable by Sweet Pea.

“I’m fine,” He tries to reassure you, turning to continue with his lunch.

“No, he said they jumped you.” You shake your head sternly and grabbed his shoulder to forcefully turn his body back, freezing when he yelped in pain and flinched. Sweet Pea swallowed, cursing himself internally for proving you right on accident, and looked up at you slowly. Your face was unreadable, which brought more nervousness on him.

Everyone watched as Sweet Pea sighs defeatedly and pull down his shirt to reveal the large bruises on his collarbone, your eyes widening and getting closer to inspect if it was shattered. Luckily it didn’t seem so, but your guts told you this wasn’t the only injury he got. Glancing up at Sweet Pea, you pulled up his shirt as gently as possible. Your breath hitched; a large, purple and yellow bruises littering his ribs and stomach.

“Motherfucker,” Fangs cursed in anger as rage filled him, Toni, and Jughead— however, before anyone could react, a chair loudly slammed against the floor from the sheer force of someone abruptly standing up.

A figure was sprinting towards Reggie in a flash, forcefully turning him around by the jacket before a strong fist collided with his face and he was tackled down to the floor. Gasps erupted all over the place as everyone in the cafeteria stood up in shock upon realising it was you, fearfulness appearing on their faces when you began punching him repeatedly without remorse.

Trapping Reggie under your body, you pulled him by his jacket only to punch him square on the jaw and slam his head on the concrete floor, pained noises leaving his mouth as he attempted to protect his head and face. Two Bulldogs scrambling closer to help Reggie while one of the others rushed off to call the Principal, you grabbed the arm of the guy who tried pulling you off of their leader and twisted it before kneeing his gut, making him fall to the floor on his knees. You used it as your opportunity to pull his arm to his back and dislocate him, a scream erupting from his mouth. The other guy swings his fist in your direction, which you dodged and kicked him towards a table, quickly grabbing his head to repeatedly slam his face on the hard surface.

Speechless was an understatement to describe what they felt witnessing the horrors of your rage with some trembling, some covering their eyes, and some unable to look away.

All you saw was red.

There’s nothing in your mind but to hurt the people that hurt the love of your life, dark and bloodthirsty eyes glinting dangerously as you look at Reggie’s bloodied state again. Blood pooled beneath his head as he coughed from the pain on his abdomen and head.

No one could recognise you — the gentle and soft atmosphere you usually surrounded yourself with being replaced by cold and lethal one. Rage is supposed to be foreign for someone as nice as you, but seemed fitting in this moment, as if you’ve been building it up within yourself until it exploded. The only ever push you needed was Sweet Pea being hurt to take everything out.

You were about to walk up to Reggie again before the sound of Sweet Pea’s voice calling your name reached you through the blood boiling in your head, and you stopped. Principal Weatherbee hurriedly rushed to the commotion, a look of terror spreading across his face after seeing you standing over Reggie’s beaten up state.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Weatherbee shouts, kneeling beside Reggie, who had passed out from the pain and shock.

Sweet Pea was the only one brave and courageous enough to approach you without hesitation, calling your name first to catch your attention as he gently pulled you by your forearm. “Stop, baby. That’s enough,” He whispered.

You stared Weatherbee down with calm rage and coldness that made fear dance across his face. “You teach your students to fight square and fair if they don’t want any more worse than this,” You muttered loud enough for him to hear, voice emotionless and non-remorseful.

Shifting your glare to the remaining Bulldogs that were frozen in their spot, they flinched when you stepped forward. “Gang up on my boyfriend again and I’ll fucking kill every single one of you,” You threatened with a murderous tone which told the graveness of it, making them nod their heads vigorously and care for their leader.

Weatherbee instructed them to bring Reggie and the two injured Bulldogs to the infirmary, then looked back at you with disbelief still on his expression. “Do you know what you have done? You could get expelled.”

“You think I care?” You challenged him, tilting your head. “They should’ve been expelled for what they did to Sweet Pea, but it wouldn’t matter because he’s a Southside Serpent, right? So I did exactly what they did to make them feel what it’s like, except it was just me alone. It’s a fair fight, Mr. Weatherbee. I don’t think I should be punished for making things equal between us.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly before rolling your eyes and walking away with Sweet Pea’s hand in yours.

Sweet Pea pulled you down to sit with him and began inspecting your bloody, busted knuckles. You look up to see not only your friends but everyone else staring, causing you to scowl. “What?” You snarled and they all looked away in fear.

Sweet Pea shushes you with a look as you returned your gaze on him, flashing him an innocent smile. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, he takes out a midnight blue handkerchief from his jacket pocket to gently wipe off the blood from your knuckles. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones on your fist.”

You chuckled, “Babe, I literally learn martial arts. And they were the ones who got their bones broken.”

“Still, shouldn’t have done that.” He replied. “Let’s go to the infirmary, you need this disinfected.”

“If you want me to actually end up killing Reginald Mantle, then I’m down.” You smirked, earning a disapproving look from him.

Sweet Pea takes your glasses that you had removed before the fight with the Bulldogs and gently places it on the bridge of your nose, adjusting it so you’ll be able to see properly. “Babe, I really don’t think you should. I love you for it, I’ll fucking watch you beat the shit out of him over again, but it wouldn’t be good news for your family business if rumours spread you have violent tendencies.” He gave you a pointed look.

You scrunched your nose, “Only when someone messes with my Sweet Pea.”

“Being violent’s my job, baby.” He chuckles.

“Not really,” You pushed up your glasses with the tip of your middle finger before leaning on the table on your elbow. “Being constantly nice isn’t my job, sweetheart. I can’t really show humanity to someone who hurts you, and I promise this wouldn’t be the last time you’ll see me take revenge for you.”

Sweet Pea sighed.

He doesn’t want your reputation to be tainted; being the bad guy is not unfamiliar for him and he was going to keep it that way if it meant nobody thought of you negatively. You’ve worked hard to build trust among the community and proved yourself a kind and helping soul, Sweet Pea didn’t want people’s perspective of you to change. But it’s actually true how people misunderstood you; all you have is basic human decency, something which some people lack, you weren’t the divine only-do-good they perceived you to be.

You’re still human despite being more helpful and nice than average, so you obviously have imperfections — that is, not being able to contain your anger when the one you love is unfairly treated. You were intelligent, but sometimes, your fists speak for yourself when assholes tests your patience too many times. Sweet Pea knew that and always tried his best to prevent you from losing your temper, although it couldn’t be helped in this case.

“You were pretty badass there, dude.” Jughead remarks after seeing you’ve calmed down, getting over the initiate shock.

Fangs agreed, “Yeah, it was dope. We didn’t know you could fight.”

“And break bones.” Kevin added, astonished.

“Fucking lit,” Toni chimes in with a box of emergency kit in her hand that she placed on the table. You raised your brows, wondering when she got out the cafeteria to get it, but smiled nonetheless.

“But wait, you said you learn martial arts.” Archie spoke next with curiosity in his expression. “Where do you learn it? Since when?”

You chuckle at their excitement and eagerness, feeling happy for the lack of judgment. Sweet Pea starts tending to your busted knuckles as you reply to the ginger head, “My father’s a professional. He’s been training me and other kids who wants to learn self defence techniques. It’s part of the business.”

“So, you’ve always known how to beat up people but never did it before?” Fangs asked.

“Yeah,” You shrug. “It’s unnecessary to result to violence all the time. No one tested my patience as far as Mantle did, he really deserved that to shut up for once. It’s absolutely effective to people who can’t mind their own damn business.” Grinning almost childishly, the gang chuckles at your new side while Sweet Pea, unamused, presses the cotton ball a little too hard on your injury causing a hiss to erupt from your mouth.

He had a glare in his eyes. “Don’t fucking do that again, you’ll get hurt. You know those scumbags would get back at you.”

Your face softened at the concerned look in his eyes, how the hands that treats you trembled slightly. “Darling,” You softly called and intertwined your fingers with his. “You know I had to. They can’t gang up on you like that, it’s not right. I couldn’t see you hurt and just let it slide.”

Sweet Pea nibbled on his lower lip nervously, still a little upset.

“I know you’re worried about my reputation and all, but I’m your boyfriend, Sweets. You come first before that.” You ruffled his hair affectionately with your uninjured hand and smiled. “I don’t care about what other people think of me, I’m still going to defend you.”

Sweet Pea stared into your sincere eyes before sighing in defeat, looking down at your injured knuckles. “Fine. But promise me you wouldn’t take any hits, I fucking hate seeing you injured.”

You chuckled at the sternness in his voice and saluted jokingly, “Copy that, boss. That can be arranged.” He rolled his eyes with a smile.

Betty raised her brows, “Okay… Has this ever happened before?” Gesturing to you.

“Uh… kind of?” You grimaced, scratching your head, as everyone gave you a questioning look. “I didn’t really beat up anyone at that time, but I might have… punched a hole through the wall.”

They widened their eyes in surprise as Cheryl drops her jaw, “The science classroom!”

You winced and nodded.

Toni laughs with a shake of her head, somehow finding the situation funny. “Who knew the nicest boy had the beast within him?” She jokes. “I’m glad to see this more human side of you. You were always so nice it was almost unsettling.”

Smiling at her, you nodded in acknowledgement. That’s a comment you always heard from people, that you were unnatural for being too kind. You were taught since childhood how to be a decent human being but to never let anyone take advantage of you, so you were just balancing it out — no one ever saw this side of yours before because they weren’t being unreasonable. You only lose your patience when pushed hard enough.

You looked at Sweet Pea to see him already getting back on treating your wound, dabbing the cotton ball gently on the cuts, making you admire his every features. It was adorable how he cared for your reputation. Made you want to make out with him right then and there, but it wasn’t appropriate for a dining place.

Everyone looks at Toni when your attention focused on Sweet Pea, shaking their heads slightly. Not certain if they were glad or scared to learn new things about you that’s been unknown for a long time.

“You don’t have to worry,” Your boyfriend speaks up without averting his gaze. “He’s not easy to piss off unless you push the wrong buttons all at once.”

“Sweet Pea’s the wrong button,” You immediately added with a grin that resembled a Golden Retriever, except it seems actually threatening. “Couldn’t care less about my haters.”

Of course, none of them disagreed to that.

The next day, Reggie walks in with his tail tucked between his legs after seeing you leaned back on your locker with Sweet Pea and the entire gang. Your mouth chewing on a bubblegum, that stupid glasses of yours resting on the bridge of your nose as usual with an outfit that reminds everyone of an elite nerd student.

Bruises and cuts littered around Reggie’s face with a prominent black eye, busted lip and swollen cheek. His steps slow to not add pressure on his injured leg and bruised torso. The students stared at him as if he was something else, probably gossiping among themselves about how he’s the one who caused the nicest boy in Riverdale seem like a completely different person.

He scoffs. You’re not the nicest boy at all.

You can’t hold that title anymore after the incident, but Reggie knew he didn’t have the guts to mock you about it when your presence alone made him cower and feel small.

As he carefully walked through the hallway, your eyes finally catches his figure and darkens almost in an instant, bright expression dropping to a blank look. Your friends were quick to become nervous seeing your almost deadly look, although Sweet Pea found it fun and amusing. Reggie looked at you as he stopped, afraid that if he walked past you’re just going to swing at him.

You cocked your head slightly, eyes burning deep into his soul as you stared at him from head to toe and circled around him like a predator watching its prey. Reggie felt uneasiness cloud his chest. He would’ve never done something like that if he knew the consequences to it.

Bumping on his shoulder that made him hiss in slight pain due to the injury on his shoulder, you returned to your place and sneered. “Where did the big bad dog go? He afraid of the faggot now or somethin’?” You laughed mockingly.

Reggie licked his lips nervously, not meeting your gaze.

You leaned your head down to forcefully look at him in the eye, grinning at the fear there. “All of this is merely a warning, Mantle. You go after my boyfriend like that again and I promise it’ll be much worse.”

Gulping, he nods his head vigorously and scrambles away when you finally decided to let him go.

Sweet Pea snickers under his breath after Reggie’s gone, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Really cool, baby. He was so fucking scared!” Smirking smugly at his laughter, you wrapped an arm back around his waist securely.

“After what happened, you probably can’t hold the nicest guy reputation anymore.” Archie remarked which causes you to laugh in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t even know who gave me that nickname.”

“For a quick information, it was Chuck and he actually did it to mock you but it backfired.” Cheryl stated and everyone hums, finding it makes sense.

You feel a little bit glad for lashing out, knowing not everyone will perceive you as this perfectly nice guy who could do no wrong. Having that kind of expectations are truly heavy on your shoulders when you’re not even half of what they expect. Your kindness isn’t infinity nor unconditional; it wears off like any human beings, you didn’t know why people thought otherwise when it came to you. It’s impossible to keep being nice when some assholes just ganged up on your boyfriend who’s never done anything wrong.

Sweet Pea’s always been precious to you. He’s the love of your life that brightens up your day, a ray of sunshine even though he’s got anger issues and you would do anything to prevent that brightness from wearing off. Now they know not to mess with him if they don’t want to get their asses beaten.

“Hey, Sweets?”

He hummed, turning to you. “Yeah?”

You peck his lips and smile, “I love you.”

Sweet Pea smiled back, pecking your cheek. “Love you too, baby.”

Beware of the nicest guy; no one’s ever allowed to hurt your boyfriend without the consequences of getting your fist on their face.

116 notes · View notes

scuderiasundays · 5 months

Text

the way i do

summary: holiday traditions lead to flashbacks of the right person he met at the wrong time 💌

words: 706

a/n: haven't written in ages but something compelled me to write this short piece (slightly inspired by "long live"). timely considering it’s taylor’s birthday! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz just because. any and all feedback much appreciated as always! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

"Papa, who's this? The lady standing beside you?"

Isla, the spitting image of her father, looked up at Lando with those piercing blue-green eyes. With Christmas just around the corner, the Norris family honored their long-standing tradition of leafing through old photos together. A storied career and a blissful family life had amassed into a pile of scrapbooks as tall as young Isla herself.

Yet, Lando found himself taken aback as Isla's chubby pointer finger rested on a particular figure in the photo. This image, long tucked away in a box of sentimental keepsakes, hadn't seen the light of day in ages. He was captivated by the scene of pure elation, his champagne-soaked figure, and the look of admiration in her eyes. This was São Paulo 2023, his last podium in a tumultuous season. Coincidentally, it was the last time he laid eyes on her, though not by his own choosing.

The stakes were palpably high as the Formula 1 season drew to a close. Despite the heightened cheers from the crowd, the pressure bore down on Lando, almost devouring him whole. The two were similar in that way, devout believers in what Lando playfully termed a "don’t let them in, don’t let them see" mentality.

You had known for months that Lando wasn’t being upfront with you. You hadn’t been there as much as he desired in a season that had tested his belief in McLaren and, more importantly, his self-confidence. It resonated in his voice and his wandering gaze when he spoke of other drivers’ partners following them from race to race. Lando had always made it a point to acknowledge and champion your genuine passion for clinical genetics. You had been the one to introduce Lando to Girlstart, a nonprofit dedicated to exposing young girls to high-quality STEM experiences. Your heart grew twice its size as you watched him interact with the girls throughout the race weekend. However, it wasn't lost on you that, despite honoring your independence, half of his being yearned for the simplicity of going to bed and waking up beside you every day.

As the team gathered for a celebratory group photo, you entwined your fingers with his as you lined up in front of Lando's garage. Three reassuring squeezes, a habit from their early dating days when privacy was paramount. He squeezed right back. Mentally, you pledged to open up to him later, fully aware that you risked losing the person who mattered most.

You sat with him by the hotel pool, a glass of rosé in hand. You needed all the liquid courage you could get for what was about to ensue.

"What’s the matter?" Lando gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

"I need you to be honest with me, not just because I’m asking, but because you love me. Do you think this is working?"

"What kind of question is that, love?"

"I know this might seem out of the blue, but I’ve been contemplating this deeply, and I-." A single tear fell as you struggled to gather your thoughts.

"Hey, hey, hey. I already know what you’re about to say. It’s alright."

"You do?"

"I’ve had this strange feeling all weekend. Something about our connection and all." Your heart shattered as his eyes fell.

"I wonder if I’ll ever find a love like ours again," he said, his voice shaking.

"Oh, but you will, Lando. I just know it."

"Feels far-fetched at the moment."

He leaned into the crook of your neck, the cold metal of his necklaces laying against your skin.

"Are we consciously uncoupling right now?" you asked, seeing the faintest smile emerging on his lips.

"An amicable separation in every sense. None of that Hollywood bullshit."

Just one glance at that photo had transported Lando to that night so many years back. The years that had gone by allowed him to really take her image in. The way her eyes crinkled, the dimples he so loved, and the evident pride emanating as she cupped his face.

She must’ve really loved me, he thought to himself.

"That’s Y/N, darling. Someone special who made daddy smile like no other."

"The way I do?"

"The way you do, sweet Isla."

#lando norris x reader #f1 x you #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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I talked about what I've noticed so far in Hunter's outfit: Link But the hair? He did not revert to short hair. Not onscreen, anyway (since it was a timeskip).

Because where could he even run to anymore, in the long run?

Trauma lands you in an exhausting maze of associating one thing with another. He can't think of a shortened hairstyle without associating that with Belos's return, the possession, and Flapjack...

Avoidance is one of the criterion of PTSD and C-PTSD (the other criterion include the instigating stressor, intrusive symptoms, negative alterations in cognitions and mood, hypervigilance/reactivity, and a few others though these are the main ones), along with the fact that mental health care is very case-by-case.

In his case, it's C-PTSD and it's a particularly lifelong condition where there is absolutely no simplicity of removing deep roots and expecting symptoms to be reduced to zero.

Some of the damage will be permanent.

However, seeing him in the epilogue scene really showed that he integrated his immense grief: perhaps he even tried cutting it short again to get some needed short-term distance from having been possessed.

But look where the road has eventually taken him to: even after 4 years or so, he has decided that his hairdo remains similar to when he lost Flapjack.

Connection heals, and it ain't limited to connections with people but also qualities like creativity. The Owl House, among its many core themes, has portrayed this so beautifully.

He shed a number of things from his dark past. His hair used to look prim and proper, professional, as Belos forced him to stay in line via severe abuse.

But he has integrated much of the rest. He found beauty in and around him. Creating and not destroying, bringing back palisman and replenishing the forests with palistrom trees. He found beauty in the human realm and that was the foretaste of a good meaningful life, after his time in the Emperor's Coven.

He decided to keep the hair noodle after all, for instance.

The road must have had plenty of twists and turns but he did not remain isolated in that throne room with Belos.

(Source: working as a therapist)

#toh hunter #toh analysis #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #the owl house #abuse mention #loz writes a meta

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calirph · 1 month

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𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

All sentences are taken from different sources and area blend of questions, angst, affirmations and reassurance, heartbreak, the past, the future and self assurance. Change names, pronouns, locations and more as you see fit.

If I keep loving you, maybe you'll eventually crack and love me too.

I'm pretty sure you're already half in love with me.

I don't think you're evil.

See? Things are already looking promising.

Are these things really better than the things I already have?

Was it all in my head?

You’re even more painful to look at than she is.

I'm hoping he can save me, even though I realize he can't.

You were the only one I saw when I closed my eyes.

Then why wasn't I enough when they were open?

I wonder how you say goodbye to someone forever?

Are you seriously in this much self-denial, Sydney? Like do you actually believe yourself when you say you don’t feel anything?

Physical attraction isn’t the same as love. You of all people should know that.

Is that what bothers you? My past?

You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hate you and then you give me a reason to love you.

Two lifetimes, they belong to you. No regrets.

You're not nothing to me. That's precisely the problem.

Are you so stupid you don't know what I'm going to do to you?

Are you so stupid you haven't figured out yet that it doesn't matter?

When it comes to love, Princess, rules blur, and traditions fade.

I just wanted…

Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me.

Yes. I remember.

They got him. The Hallows got him.

You’re kidding? No one expects decorum from me.

...But how is there glory in taking a life? We die so easily.

You'll really start to hate me.

Tell me who did this, and I will take care of it. Anyone who thought they could lay a hand on you should fear for their life.

I can't tell whose the bigger monster. Him. Or Me.

You do have a tender heart. It almost makes me want to spare you, just so I don’t have to watch it break.

In the parallel lines to the roads of life, I'm glad ours intersected twice.

Sometimes I feel like you've given up. It's like you just accept this as your fate.

This, us, it can’t happen. It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jameson looks at you.

At least I do not deny my own heart.

You’re not living to live—you’re living for death.

I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

I want him to hurt. To bleed. I want him to snap, just like he snapped me.

If you really don't want me- no other excuses, just me- just tell me right now, and I'll leave and we'll be done.

Otherwise, start getting used to the fucking fact that you can't protect me from everything. And I'm not made of glass.

This house bleeds memories.

I don’t need your permission.

Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.

My grief wasn’t deep or poetic. It was sinister in its simplicity.

He is in love with you.

Why won't anyone take me...when someone decides to go I will always be left behind.

You don't believe me or my words, do you?

I never said you didn't have a heart. But it would be nice if it beat every now and then.

You loved me.

I think you know in your heart that you’re meant for something extraordinary.

What does your heart tell you you’re meant for?

Somebody's got to win this war, right?

I am faithless. I have done unforgivable things. And I am broken.

You are a soldier. A fighter. And now you must fight. Not for the emperor, not for France . . . but for yourself.

You are my first choice. You're my only choice.

I always say the wrong things.

Why I acted the way I did…Why I was so pissed off. It will never make any sense to you because I don’t know how to explain.

You can't live your life based on 'what-ifs,' Liv.

You weren't listening to me.

That's an interesting way to get my attention.

I’m not the enemy. I’m not the kind of guy who would try to hurt you more when I know you’re already hurting, but I’m someone willing to hear you and understand you.

We cannot win if we fight among ourselves.

I’ve always wanted to be liked. It grieved me that I was treated with indifference.

A united front announcing a split.

#meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #angst meme #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Stay

I can’t focus on other thing rn becuse @turquoisespace35’s mythology AU has taken over my brain so here’s a little drabble I wrote for it based mostly on this and this part 💛💚

———

“I don’t want you to go.”

He said it as firmly as he could. He had practiced it over and over again but still his voice shook. She had been honest with him from day one and there was still so much he hadn’t told her. He knew it might be selfish, might be impossible, might be too much, but he also knew she wouldn’t want him to hold it in. It wasn’t an order or request or even an invitation, it more like like a dream.

Once the moon entered the sky the gates would open and she would be able to leave. No one had ever been able to leave before. How ironic the one person who could was the only one he didn’t want to. He didn’t have a good reason or solid argument. It wasn’t logical or practical but it was true. He just knew that he wanted her to stay with him, everything else was just noise.

“What?” She asked in a tone Hunter couldn’t quite place. Was she shocked? Offended? Scared? Or had she just not heard him?

“I… want you to stay,” he tried rephrasing it. Maybe this was more honest. He didn’t want to be too honest too quickly because he knew what he really wanted was too much. He wanted every minute of every hour to be touched by her presence. He wanted to experience every sunrise and sunset with her. He wanted to cover his dreary island with vibrant flowers for her and sit beneath the apple tree as they exchanged stories. He wanted stories with her, he wanted to make memories they could revisit and share and have more time together than they had apart. He wanted the complicated simplicity she has shown him for the rest of his days. He wanted to ensure she knew nothing but kindness and gratitude for the rest of hers.

But above all he wanted her.

“But Hunter, I have to go back…” she started just as he knew she would.

“I know, I know,” he stammered, looking at the ground. “I know you do. I know you have a life back there. I know you have friends and your fathers and a future but I just… I needed to tell you. I know it’s crazy but I just needed to tell you or I’d regret it but Willow I just… can’t imagine the island without you.”

She smiled. “I have to go back,” she said again, scooting over to sit closer to him, reaching over to bring his face up to see hers. “To tell everyone how wonderful you really are.”

“What?”

“The emperor can’t keep spreading these lies about you,” she said softly, a few of his snakes nuzzling her hand to help express Hunter’s joy. “You’re not a monster and I won’t let him keep sending soldiers here to hurt you. All these statues, I know they were made out of fear. I know you would never try to hurt anyone. I know you’re kind, and sweet, and smart and me going back alive and unharmed will prove that. I need them to know you like I know you.”

I don’t care if they know me, he though. I only care if you do.

“And when I come back, I’ll bring you the sweet bread my dad makes and we can have a proper picnic when we watch the sunset and maybe figure out how-.”

“You’d come back?” He said breathlessly.

“Of course I will,” she said simply, scratching the closest snake to her on the top of its head. Will, she had said. Will, not would. A promise not a possibility. She didn’t even hesitate. “I’d miss you too much. All of you.”

“But why?” It would be easier to stay away, it would be understandable. He didn’t want it to be true so he wasn’t sure why he wanted her to put more thought into it. He just couldn’t understand how she could be so sure of him.

“Because I like you.” Again, she didn’t hesitate. She didn’t flinch. If she needed to lie she could’ve said anything, but Hunter knew she didn’t need or want to lie. She never had before.

“I… I like you too.” He said softly and the snakes hissed at him to speak up! They agreed! Say it again! Say it louder! Say it with confidence! “We uh, all like you.”

Her hand remained on the side of his face, her thumb gently brushing his cheek. She did this often, saying it help her memorize his features. The fact that she found them worth remembering made Hunter’s heart spin. He leaned into the touch and placed his hand over hers, intending to hold it there as long as she would allow. “So it’s settled then.”

He more than just liked her. He liked apples, he liked to read, but she was more than sustainably or a way to pass the time. She was his whole world.

“But what if they don’t let you come back?” He whispered, feeling unshed tears stinging his eyes. They had sent her here to die and when they saw she hadn’t, what would be next? Would she be celebrated? Would they send her to islands with more to fear to test her abilities? Would they deem her sentence unserved and try to kill her again? “W-what if they don’t believe you or what i-if they-.”

“Hey,” she cut him off and pressed her forehead to his. The snakes rested atop her head and by her checks, her calmness contagious. Their silence gave Hunter a moment of peace, a chance to focus on this moment with her. She was not worried. Somehow she was so sure of everything. She was so sure of him. She was so sure of this. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“So when I say I’m coming back, I’m coming back,” she said with confidence. “I’m not gonna let the emperor or the rules or anyone stop me. I don’t know how they’ll respond but I have to try. You deserve that. But no matter what, I will be back with you.”

“I just… want to keep you safe.” He admitted, turning his head to the side to kiss her hand before bringing it down to their side. Their fingers danced together until they delicately intertwined as though they could not be kept apart. He knew she could take care of herself. He knew she was strong and tough and smart. But he also knew how cruel the outside world had been to her and he would do anything to ensure she was only treated the way she deserved to be treated for the rest of her days. He looked down at their hands, how they fit together so naturally. They shouldn’t work, but they did.

“You have,” she whispered, resting her nose beside his. He could feel her breath hovering across his lips. There was something else in her voice, as though he had done something else. As though she knew there was more he wanted and she was waiting and wanting to tell him he had that too.

This would not be his last night with her. They would have more long walks talking about nothing and everything. They would have more quiet evenings making up stories and blissful mornings gathering berries and finding reasons to be near each other. But there was something that a night like this inspired. Maybe it was the chatty snakes atop his head who had been constantly pleading with him to do all of this much sooner. But the sunset seemed to linger to offer them the ambience, as though telling the moon it could not come to open the gate until Willow had a farewell worth remembering. Until she knew exactly what she was returning to.

“I just… want to keep you… because…”

He didn’t give her a chance to ask for him to clarify as the small space between them vanished as his mouth covered hers. His other hand rose up to cup her cheek as he dared to repeatedly press his lips to hers. He wanted her to know it was purposeful. He wanted to give her the chance to pull away, but she seemed just as drawn to him as she titled her head to follow him as he moved.

Their lips had touched once before, after he had shown her the spot where the sunset was the brightest on the island. It has been only a moment and he had convinced himself it was accidental, that she had merely been trying to see him better.

But this, oh he knew what this was. He wanted her to know too. It was all the words he couldn’t say, that he didn’t know how to say, that hadn’t been invented yet. The snakes went crazy and hummed and hissed as they tried to process the emotions he felt. But it was too strong and too new and so they trusted him to sort it out for himself, not wanting to spoil anything. It was every time he wanted to be closer to her but walked away, it was a question and explanation all in one, it was natural and unnatural at the same time. His feelings for her were so simple, but that was what made them complicated. This was a goodbye and hello wrapped into one. This beautiful, building contradiction that she returned with vigor, reaching out to place her free hand on his waist to pull him closer.

“Well I guess I don’t have to leave right away,” she said softly as he pulled away for a brief moment to breathe. Her breathing was labored and her face was flushed as she let go of his hand to wrap her arm around her neck to bring him back down to her as she deepened the kiss. Hunter felt as though he was about to burst, feeling her lips form a smile against his. They were so soft and Hunter was so focused on how comfortable and warm he felt that he relaxed and crashed into her, nearly falling off the bench as Willow proceeded to kiss him with power and eagerness. But Hunter managed to steady them, not intending on letting clumsiness end the moment early as his whole world held him tightly.

He moved his arms to the small of her back, holding her just as tightly as he was convinced he was about to float away and only she could keep him bound to the earth. They both knew that her mission would not be simple, would not easy. They didn’t not know how long they would be apart. They didn’t know what trials awaited them. They only knew what they meant to each other, and they believed that this feeling was strong enough to endure anything and everything.

Willow let out a small laugh, and Hunter didn’t think much of it. He loved the sound of her laugh, the more of her that could be in the moment the better. But then her laugh became louder and a Hunter became worried he was doing something wrong. He had never kissed anyone before but he was fairly certain it wasn’t usually a laughing matter. As he slowly pulled away to see the cause, she followed him not wanting to leave the moment. She laughed again.

He looked and saw the source: the snakes were peppering her face with tiny kisses of their own.

“Sorry, hehe, it tickles,” she giggled as the snakes continued, much to his horror (though he could hardly blame them). But he quickly got over it, as the sight of her laughing in the rosy pink light of the setting sun drew him back in as he lunged forward to reunite their lips.

This time he did cause them to fall off the bench and Willow laughed as she was surrounded in affection. She hadn’t even left yet and already she missed him.

As Hunter and Willow continued to prolong their farewell, they didn’t notice the moon enter position. There was no urgency to act when it did, they had a few hours to seize it. But as the door opener slowly, three soldiers cautiously entered the domain. Swords at the ready, hearts determined, Luz, Amity and Gus walked forward to recuse their friend. A year of training had prepared them for anything, they had no idea what the monster was capable of. Luz scanned their surrounding when a familiar laugh made her cast her eyes down to the ground. She drew her sword and called to the others in panic.

“Oh my Titan, the monster is trying to eat Willow’s face!”

#huntlow #huntlow au #toh au #willow park #hunter toh #huntlow mythology au #huntlow fanfiction #winter toh

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grey-spark · 2 years

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OMORI Color Symbolism

Some of this will be obvious. Some other stuff won’t be. Enjoy! (TW: Suicide, depression, OMORI spoilers)

White: Purity/ Sterility/ Dissociation

White is the color of OMORI. The game and the character. An oppressive white that banishes all impurities. White space is a place to become nothing. White is not good. At least not until later. White is simple like a tulip, and that’s probably why its Sunny’s favorite color, but Sunny has taken simplicity to a toxic new level. We also find another white flower, the Orchid Egret, a white flower that connects the dream world to the real one. Almost acting as an anchor, grounding the real world to Whitespace. At the end of the game, white and sterility is given a new meaning: redemption. It’s the sign of a clean slate. Sunny has come to terms with Mari’s death, his part in it, and has confessed. He can move on with his life.

Beige: The Past/ Dullness/ Decay

Beige is Sunny’s main color. Maybe even more than white. It’s the color that differentiates him from Omori. Unlike his evil doppelganger, Sunny is a person with memories. At the end of the game when the real Sunny explores his childhood home, all of his memories are cloaked in a sepia beige. It’s the color of old photos and old times. Towards the end, we seen the plant life surrounding basil’s forest die and decay into a sullen beige. Showing how his attachment to the past is stalling and killing his growth as a person. In the real world, Sunny wears beige cargo shorts, in a empty house with beige walls and floors. Lacking in color, the inside of Sunny’s house feels muted and dull in comparison to the vivid blues and greens just outside his front door.

Orange & Yellow: Joy/ Excitement/ Agitation

Orange is almost exclusively Kel’s color. Serving as a more fashionable alternative to yellow, it’s a bright, happy color that conveys the same positivity. Its warm and welcoming. It’s also the main color of the titular “Orange Oasis” an area of Headspace that’s easy going. But even in such an area, there is a truth teller, Mr. Outback, draped in orange. Poking holes in the fantasy and stirring up the waters. Orange is a loud, aggressive color, similar to red. It annoys and aggravates people. Just like Kel. But in doing so it can generate much needed disruption to break stagnation. Kel instigates the whole plot of the game, and in the end everyone is much happier for it.

Yellow is the game’s designated color for happiness, though sometimes it blends green into the happy symbolism as well. A core example is the sunflower, a yellow and green plant that Basil admires for its ability to see the bright side of things. There’s also Kel and Hero’s parents. In their family photo the parents wear yellow and green, subtly showing that the core value of the household is the happiness of the family above all else. Finally, there’s the Big Yellow Cat. The centerpiece of Sunny’s dream world, serving almost as an unofficial ruler of Headspace. Protecting the very precious thing Sunny treasures most, the happy memory of his old friends. It’s interesting to note that all three of Sunny’s childhood imaginary friends are babylike pastel primary colors. The cat is yellow, representing Sunny’s happiness in the dream world. Abbi’s tenacle is red, the arm of the wisest who was discontent with that world. And then we find Humphrey is a baby blue, the starving sadness that Sunny keeps tucked away at the bottom of it.

Blue: Sadness/ Truth

Blue is the color associated with sadness, and more importantly, the truth. All the horrific real world nighttime scenes are portrayed in blue on black. Meanwhile, the final hospital scene when Sunny confesses the truth is shown in blue on white. Visually showing the importance of truth in the story, as well as the suffocating sadness of the situation.

Hero is blue. A color that accentuates his masculinity and dependability reflected in his manly can-do attitude, though his conventional masculinity is often subverted by him wearing a feminine pink apron while cooking. However, the main reason he’s dressed in blue is because as mentioned before, it portrays his sadness. Hero is a character that is perpetually depressed. His intelligent mind over thinks things and blames himself. Mari’s death was no exception, so like Sunny, Hero seals himself away in a cocoon of sadness. Consider Humphrey, the big blue whale (the final boss of Headspace) that eats Sunny over and over again. Swallowing him deeper in a devouring cycle of depression. By escaping Humphrey, Sunny gets a chance to escape his depression and fantasy, just like Hero did before. Rejecting his fantasy, Sunny can start reintegrating into the real world outside.

Blue is one of the two main colors associated with the Real World, along with Green. We see it most prominently in the cloudy sky, showing the status of Sunny in the real world on the final title screen. Unlike the oppressive purple sky of dream world, the real sky is blue, wide and filled with many possibilities. It’s reflected in the blue picnic basket at the secret lake, its blue and white like the sky. Sunny describes it as “not as good as Mari’s” but it’s a real picnic in the true world. The only world where Sunny can learn and grow.

Green: Growth/ Change/ Basil’s Envy

The color of growth. Plants are the keystone metaphor the story. In the duet sequence we see the plants growing, and the children alongside them. OMORI at its core is a coming-of-age story. One that homes in on the worst part of growing up: facing traumatic catastrophe. And being able to grow in spite of it. One of the kids hit hardest by this trauma is Basil. The gardener. A boy with a green thumb and green eyes (not literally, figuratively.) Note that Basil’s envy is never a malicious thing. But its made clear that he was always questioning his place in Sunny’s friend group. Taking photos but never feeling apart of them. Basil wants to be someone else. Someone loved. He wants to change. Lacking options, he turns to gardening, so he can make something beautiful to add to the world. Hoping that maybe he can change along the way.

As mentioned before, Green is portrayed as a happy color too. And is almost always portrayed in a positively light, being the second main color of the Real World. Though it also has a place in the dream world as well. It’s the color of the Vast Forest. The one that reminds Sunny of the tree that changed everything. It’s even the color of Space Ex-boyfriend’s hair, where its made abundantly clear that green is the inverted color of pink. If green is the color of growth and change. Pink is quite the opposite.

Pink: Innocence/ Childishness

Aubrey’s color. Her punk pink hair, originally meant to be a testament of her girly innocence, has since become a symbol of defiance. But this is only one instance where innocence is defiled by the toxicity of their shared catastrophe. Pink is the color worn by Sally the baby, the most innocent character in the story. But most pink characters appear as obstacles. Aubrey is the most obvious example, but pink is also featured on all three of the major Headspace bosses. Spaceboy’s pink hair. Sweetheart’s strict adherence to pink attire. And Humphrey’s monstrous parasite form is a sea of pink. Each character once had innocent origins but are all lashing out from an unwillingness to move on. For Aubrey, its from Mari. For Spaceboy, its Sweetheart. Sweetheart can’t move past her heartbreak to love anyone. And Humphrey fights to maintain the “blissful ignorance” of Whitespace itself, refusing to let Sunny wake up from his childish dreaming. After all, the very floor of the Neighbor Room is pink. Pink almost appears as an antagonistic unnatural color. Or rather, pink is the childishness Sunny and Aubrey need to overcome to mature and grow.

Though for Aubrey’s case, there’s a second meaning. Pink and purple are considered a feminine color, though purple is decidedly more mature of the two. Growing up, Aubrey didn’t have many feminine role models. Since Aubrey’s mother is emotionally unavailable, Mari is the only other girl Aubrey has to relate to. So they planned to style their hair to celebrate this connection. By asking Mari to dye their hair pink and purple, it appears that Aubrey is seeking to share her feminine experience with Mari.

Purple: Lavishness/ Love

Mari’s color. Purple is a color that exalts femininity and abundance. Traditionally associated with royalty and luxury, purple provokes a feeling of richness. Although in Mari’s case, this richness is not material wealth but rather takes the form of doting and indulgence. Representing how Mari goes out of her way to express her love to others in the form of gifts. This is also the main color of Headspace, since the color black is missing from that world replaced by infinite purple indulgence of an escapist fantasy.

Black: Mystery/ Repression/ Fear

Black is not evil in this game. It’s simply darkness. Hiding something important from sight. Something, the ghost, is black. All of them are. And of course there’s Black Space itself. All of it hidden, all of it pushed down. Black is also the exclusive color of fear, and is tied explicitly to the Truth. In earlier versions of the game, Fear was going to be just another emotion. In fact, super early concept material even indicates that somethings and black space were just going to be a haunted level. Not so in the final game. Black stands out as a special nightmare, that not only encroaches on the dream world, but even the Real World. All colors are swallowed by a darkness that torments Sunny and hides something awful.

Red: Anger/ Guilt/ Trauma

The color of blood. Of her blood. The color of guilt. Of being caught red handed. The color of unbridled fury for doing something awful to someone who loved you dearly. Across the game, we see Sunny being lured into the red lights. Red is the destructive impulse to seek revenge for Mari’s sake. Take from himself what he took from her. In Red Space, Sunny fights Omori. He faces his own self-hatred and overcomes his darkest impulses.

Anyway, I think that’s all the main colors. Happy Birthday Sunny! I try to make time for lore posts like these whenever I find time.

Thanks for reading.

#omori #omori meta #kel #hero #basil #Aubrey #mari #sunny #omori analysis #color theory

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