#they just kind of scattered them around on the table... alas

[blujayonthewing]

if I was playing nyssa more than once per calendar year I'd buy some of these to bring as table snacks

#just have some scattered in my dice bag and campaign journal and go 'oh! :) [munch]' whenever one falls out #better shelf life than real wildflowers and stuff you know how it is #one thing about me is that I genuinely like eating wafer paper. I know it's got a weird texture and tastes like nothing idk what to tell yo #that's what I like about it #nyssa will see a leaf and say 'is anyone gonna eat that' and not wait for an answer #man I bought a bunch of these for wedding cupcakes (beautiful little lifelike double-sided ivy ones!) #but 'put the leaves and butterflies ON the cupcakes' was one of the things lost in the delegation chain of wedding prep :') #they just kind of scattered them around on the table... alas #about me #my OCs #nyssa

[otomiyaa]

do you have any ToT fics?

Mr. Mouse

Lee!Marius & NXX Squad ft. Reader

[Fic Reupload] - Haha I thought you were crying but then thought oh right I've been sharing Tears of Themis posts lately. Well I've got one, only one, apart from some drabbles scattered around. I'll reupload the fic ^^ It's not lee Luke though, but Marius. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 3.1K

The mood was dark and heavy. Though it had been your intention to shift the team’s focus off the complex investigation case just for a little, you did not expect it would arise new complications.

All you had done was suggest a funny game for some team bonding, fun, and to have a laugh, since there was just too much tension in this team and definitely not enough laughter. Alas, there was little to no laughter at all as the men glared at each other, even while playing the game. 

"Guys...” you whispered, watching them nervously. 

Even with those stupid cards sticking to their foreheads it didn’t look at all like the lighthearted situation it should be. Marius and Artem were exchanging death stares as if they could fly over the table any second and clash. Vyn appeared to be judging their behavior quietly, a little pile of successfully guessed cards of his own proudly placed before him as he stared at the duo with piercing eyes. And Luke...

“Luke,” Marius suddenly called out, glancing sideways at Luke who was, just like you were, observing the two nervously. “I’ll ask again, Luke. Am I Mr. Artem Wing?” Marius asked. Luke was stuttering, but couldn’t get in between them again with a firm ‘no’ or anything else, given the tense atmosphere.

Marius already continued to speak: “Summarizing all of your answers, I am a male, I am old, I am not big, but I do have big earsー”

“Mr. Wing does not have big ears though,” you whispered, but Marius didn’t hear and continued.

“You are also an animal, Marius. You are forgetting a key part of the interrogation,” Vyn said in all seriousness. You should have known. There was no such thing as playing a fun and simple game of Who Am I? with the NXX gang. 

“Ah, an animal. Right. I stick to my guess. Mr. Wing is also kind of an animal,” Marius said, shrugging. Artem glared.

“Your insults are getting less and less creative. I suggest you proceed with more clever guesses, or you should just give up and admit you cannot guess the character,” he said. Ah, these two really weren’t getting along! Still, it was hard to fight back your giggles as you felt your lips twitch unwillingly. 

On Marius’ forehead was the card that said ‘Mickey Mouse’ and for the past ten minutes it had been him trying to guess the name which was not that difficult. From Elvis to Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, Leonardo da Vinci, Darius Morgan, Phoenix Wright and Mark Zuckerberg, everyone else including yourself had already finished some interrogation rounds successfully and guessed the right names. 

It was just Marius who was still Mickey Mouse for such a long while since the start of the game that all of you had decided to focus your attention on him alone until he would guess it right. Though usually enjoying to be in the spotlight, Marius did seem to get annoyed and had been trying to wriggle his way out of it by provoking Artem.

“Ask more about the animal’s nature,” Vyn suggested. 

“Or his career,” Luke said.

Marius rolled his eyes, a confused look on his face that said ‘an animal’s career?’ but he sighed and growled, “Fine. Am I a monkey?” 

“No,” chirped Luke.

“Am I a cat? Or a dog?”

“No and no,” Vyn said. 

“A fish?” You shook your head at him. Marius made a wild gesture with his hands.

“A bear?” 

“Nope,” Artem said. There was definitely something smug about Artem’s attitude, and unfortunately Marius did not miss this. He lunged towards him and sneered, “Ah I see. You thought of a difficult name for me, just to finally have something I am not better at. Hm?” 

“Just keep guessing, Marius,” you tried gently, but Marius was fixated on Artem again and you were kind of relieved that he didn’t catch Luke’s very soft “It’s not that difficult though...” because if he did, Luke would be enjoying all of that attention that was going to Artem now.

“Looks like we’ll still be here tomorrow,” was Artem’s calm remark, sparking Marius’ irritation again. There had been something mischievous about the usual serious Artem all day, something childish yet not more childish than Marius himself, and you were torn between amusement and fear of this all escalating into something bad. 

“Rosa~ Help me out here? They are bullying me,” Marius whined like a child, pouting at you. It was hilarious how he really did seem at loss with this game, and it didn’t even seem to cross his mind that you were the one who came up with the idea to play this in the first place. Or better, that it was your very own hand that wrote the name 'Mickey Mouse' for Marius to guess.

“Just keep on guessing. You are really close,” you encouraged him. He wasn’t close though. You could tell Marius had still no idea.

“Perhaps he will need a hand,” Vyn said. Marius let out a sudden guffaw. 

“Oh you guys are loving this aren’t you? The only way you guys can beat me is with silly games, or maybe even a prank. I’m not gonna be surprised if I take this off and there’s no name on it. It’s getting shady, why am I the only one who’s an animal?” Marius said, grabbing at the card on his forehead, but Luke reached out swiftly and caught his arm.

“Hey, don’t take it off now!” the brunet warned. Marius was sort of right. The guys were enjoying the hilarity of Marius failing at something as simple as a guessing game, but there was no prank going on here. Marius really failed gloriously and you couldn’t blame them - especially Artem - for rubbing salt into the wound.

“See? You don’t want me to see you’re fooling me huh?” Marius said, trying to pull his arm free from Luke who held him with both hands, but Marius reached for the card again with his other hand. This time Vyn got up fast and stood behind Marius, where he grabbed both his arms and moved them behind the seat. 

“You are going to play fairly, Marius. This’ll be a temporary measure to make sure you do,” he said, taking off his own tie and using it to bind his hands behind the chair. Marius laughed out loud again.

“Come on now! As if you guys are playing fairly! This is so childish!” 

“Or you are the childish one. Just because you are finally bad at something doesn’t mean it isn’t fair. You’ll have to accept you can’t be good at everything,” Artem lectured. 

“Oh yeah? Well, it’s not that I don’t want to play a game, I just don’t want to cooperate with your pranks! I’m going home,” Marius said, but Vyn tightened the light bondage on Marius’ hands and said: “Oh but you’re not going anywhere. And it’s not a prank, Marius. It is a fair game.”

“Rosa, help!” Marius made a scene on purpose, still smug and at the same time dramatic about the whole situation, and you shook your head at him.

Vyn sat down again, but Luke leaned towards Marius and poked him teasingly between the ribs.

“I’ll give you a hint. The sort of animal you are tends to get stuck by human traps as well,” he said, but the poke caused a different reaction than everyone expected. Marius literally squeaked. 

Your eyes widened. Marius von Hagen.... Could he be.... Ticklish? Judging from the look on Artem’s face, he seemed to notice too.

“The animal makes a similar sound too,” he said, poking Marius as well from the other side, making him squeak again.

“EEP!”

“The animal does, but the character does not make such a sound,” Luke said, watching how Artem’s single finger poked Marius not one, not two, but three more times.

“Haha-hands off, Artem, you don’t want to face the consequences once I get out of this,” Marius argued, dancing uncomfortably. 

“Hm.  That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position,” Artem retorted, and this time he made a claw of his hand, digging his fingers into Marius’ torso and getting him to let out another lovely squeak. Luke snickered.

“Shall we tickle him?  he suggested, wiggling his fingers. 

“We could. Until he guesses it right.” 

It was hard to believe what was happening here. You saw how both Artem and Luke surrounded Marius who sat tied to his chair thanks to Vyn’s bondage skills, and their fingers started to poke and prod his sides. Marius threw his head back, the card sticking to his forehead like magic while he let out the loudest most hysterical giggles.

“GAhaha-guhuhuys! Y-you ahahar the wohohorst!” 

You gaped at them and exchanged looks with Vyn. He was smirking. “Amused aren’t you?” he murmured while in the background, Marius continued to laugh because of Artem and Luke tickling him. Artem was calm and collected, tickling Marius with this concentrated look as if he was some kind of work project. Luke was much more playful and smug about it.

“Heehee, take that! Well, aren’t you gonna guess?” he sang.

You chuckled at Vyn. “Yeah. Amused, and confused. What is even happening?” you giggled, amazed that even Artem would do something of such a childish nature. Perhaps everyone would act a little different if a bratty person like Marius was involved.

“Well, I can tell you what’s happening. They are tickling him. What do you say, shall we help out?” Vyn asked you, leaning close as if the two of you were having an intimate and personal moment in the middle of the tickle fest. 

“Should we?” you asked, smirking. Vyn shrugged.

“I think we should.” And so you two rolled your chairs towards where Marius was laughing for his dear life.

“I refuhuhuse to plahahay your stuhuhupid gahahames!” he laughed, and he shrieked even louder when you joined in, clawing at his tummy while Artem continued to tickle his ribs and sides, and Luke was playfully wriggling his fingers under his arms, tickling his armpits.

“You’ll have to, Marius. Continue playing, I will be the one to answer your questions,” Vyn said, sitting right before him with his hands on his knees. He squeezed, and Marius let out a loud gasp.

“AHAHah!” His eyes widened, and you could see the realization on his face. He was stuck. He struggled with his bound arms, but even if he were to shake the tie off, you were certain these guys would not let him go easily. Heh. Neither would you. This was actually fun. 

“Ahaham I a rahahabit?!” Marius finally laughed, and you couldn’t help but giggle along. He was both cute and hilarious right now, and you continued to dance your fingers all over his belly. Vyn snickered and shook his head.

“No, you are not.”

“S-sehehehe, squirrel! A squirrehehel!”

“No,” Artem said firmly.

“A rahhaahat?!” Marius roared. 

Luke giggled. “Close, but no!” 

“AHAHAH! A MOUSEehehee! A stuhuhupid mouse!” 

Vyn smiled. “Correct.” To help ‘celebrate’, Luke switched to tickling Marius’ neck with scribbly finges as he taunted, “Bingo, finally you guessed something right! You are a mouse!” and meanwhile Artem continued to squeeze and pinch at different spots on Marius’ torso, from his upper sides to lower sides, his hips and back up towards his ribs, causing him to bounce hysterically.

“Thehehen stahahhap!” he laughed. 

“You are not there yet, Marius. You are a mouse, continue guessing.” 

“WHahahaht!” 

“Like I said, ask about his career!” Luke said, going back to tickling Marius’ underarms. Marius was giggling and snorting adorably, the grin on his face bigger than ever and a huge blush spreading on his cheeks.

“GAahahah-- a cohohop!?” he asked. Vyn shook his head.

“Can you name any mouse cop? You’ll have to do better than that, Marius,” he said, and he spidered his fingers all over Marius knees and thighs, making the poor ticklish heir bark out some more hysterical cackles.

“GAAGAHha! Not thehehere!” he roared. You were still tickling Marius’ tummy, gently and not too harshly, but you couldn’t help but move up his shirt a little and scribbled circles around on his stomach, fluttering all over the soft bare skin. Marius seemed to get even more flustered at this, and he shook his head. The card threatened to fall off, but Artem slapped it firmly back on Marius’ head, making the guy yelp out loud.

“HAHAHA! Artehehem you ahahaass-ahaha!” 

“Marius, remember the questions I asked when I was Harry Potter,” you tried to help him fondly even though you couldn’t stop your fingers from tickling Marius’ sensitive tummy without mercy. 

“HEYAhah!” Marius squealed and shook his head again, but this time the card was glued firmly to his forehead, and he continued his hysterical laughing fit.

“Hahahha! Ahaham I on T-Teehehee-TV?!” Marius laughed, indeed succeeding to copy your questions from earlier.

“Correct.” 

“OHOhoh! Ahaham I Jeheherry?!” Marius really appeared like he thought he finally guessed correct, but Vyn’s answer was a teasy “No~” and he punished the wrong guess with fierce squeezes right above Marius’ knees, making him howl for his ticklish life.

“AHhahahah! Nohhoho thihis ihiihisn’t fahahahair!” he laughed. You smiled, wonderstruck by how attractive the young heir looked laughing his head off like this.

“It’s a little fair, Marius. Continue guessing, you’re so close,” you encouraged.

“Come on man, can’t you really think of any other famous mouse on TV?” Luke asked - his tickles were the most energetic, switching from rapid pokes and finger wiggles and switching spots even when it would cause his hands to bump against yours or Artem's.

“PIHIHIKACHU!” Marius roared. Luke frowned.

“That’s a mouse?” he asked, to which you nodded.

“Actually it is. But wrong guess, Marius!” 

By now Marius was really turning beet red as he continued to laugh and struggle. Artem had been quiet for a while, tickling Marius with concentration and focus of a typical lawyer, and he smirked as he drilled his fingers between Marius’ ribs.

“I think it is a talent in itself that you give so many wrong guesses, Von Hagen,” he said, triggering Marius but all the graduate student could do was laugh and giggle more as he was attacked from all sides. You only noticed now that his arms were already free again after so much struggling, but both Artem and Luke were holding an arm each, and Marius could do very little with the strength he had left. 

Using their free hands, both men continued to tickle him, making him giggle and squeal even when he was nearly out of breath.

“Guess it right, or give up,” Artem said. Vyn made a face at that.

“Mr. Wing is right,” he said teasingly. “If you would like, you can give up. It means you lose the game.” 

Marius made a face that expressed his surprise and confusion that giving up was still a possibility. But then he shouted “Nahaha-neheheever!” while continuing to squirm in between them.

“Then have it your way~!” Luke said, getting up from where he was sitting so he could tickle his armpits more comfortably. 

“Heeehehehehe! Nahahaha!” You were getting the impression that stubborn Marius was going to laugh himself to death here if he couldn’t still guess the character that wasn’t even so hard. 

Maybe you were enjoying yourself a little too much by bullying your ticklish partner like this, and not just for evil reasons. But when you looked at Artem, Luke and Vyn, you recognized expressions that matched your mood as well. They all looked fond to have the usually arrogant heir laughing like this and refusing to give in.

“Ahahaahahlright I gihihive! Guhuhhuys, enahahaa-enough! I gihiive uuhup!” he finally wheezed. Surprised he still didn’t guess it, you were the first to stop tickling his stomach, and you sat back. Luke also stopped tickling, so did Artem, and finally Vyn stopped the squeezing and digging movements his hands were making on Marius’ legs.  

Leaning forward and bending his head, Marius panted and wheezed, catching his breath tiredly. And as he did, the card finally let go of his sweaty forehead and twirled down onto his lap. It fell with the text upwards, and you could see the realization on Marius’ face as he read it:

Mickey Mouse.

“N-no way,” he panted.

“Not so hard, huh? Can’t believe you didn’t think of the most famous mouse in the world,” Luke said smugly, patting Marius’ shoulder.

“Like I said, you can’t be good at everything,” Artem said, patting his other shoulder. 

“Unbelievable... Mi-Mickey Mouseー” Marius panted, and he raised his head suddenly and glared at everyone.

“You wrote my card, didn’t you-- R-Rosa?” he panted, smirking at you despite his exhausted state. You blinked your eyes.

“King,” you said, using his codename like he kept using yours, and you smiled nervously. 

“She did,” Vyn said, standing behind you with both hands on your shoulders.

“Anything you want to tell her, Mr. Mouse?” he asked. You giggled at the new nickname for Marius, but noticed this certain teasy remark wasn’t necessarily directed at Marius. Gulp. You looked up at Vyn. Why was this situation suddenly getting suspicious? 

“It was also not our idea to play this game. You can’t blame us,” Luke suddenly said. You gasped, turning your head towards him. Wha--?! Yes, it was your idea, so...? You finally looked at Artem, your eyes begging for his help, but you blushed to see the smirk on his face.

“Clever. You perhaps knew that such classic pop culture is Marius’ weakness? Are you the mastermind behind all this?” he said. You started to stutter, blushing like crazy. They were placing the blame for their stupid quarrels and the tickle incident ー which you joined but that wasn’t the point ー on you! 

“N-no of course nohot! Marius I thought it wahahasn’t difficult, ahaahah M-Mariuhuuus!” you whined when Marius lunged at you and started to avenge whatever was left of his dignity by tickling you, the one most responsible for his predicament just now.

“Guys, I might just forgive you for what you did to me if you help me out right now,” Marius purred, smirking at the others. It was no surprise after what all of them said, but still to suddenly have the tables turned with you ending up in Marius’ position of the one tickled by all of the NXX squad, well, that was something you could never ever be properly prepared for.

“HAHahaha- guuuuys!” you howled, but these four had the time of their lives wrecking you, and you were surprised at their well-played teamwork. 

Well all in all, you had achieved your goal though: team bonding, check. Having fun, check. Having a laugh? Thanks to Mr. Mouse, double check! 

#reupload #tears of themis #tot #tickling #tickle fic #marius von hagen #x reader #vyn richter #luke pearce #artem wing #otomiya!writes #lee!marius #ler!artem #ler!vyn #ler!luke #ler!reader

[mykatzone]

Answering asks #2

Let's goooo!!! With this I've answered all the asks in my inbox!!! Yippie!!!!!

@chouchinobake Hiya to you as well!! Omg thank you so much for the kind wordsss <333 I'm always happy when people say they like my artstyle bc I go through periods where I'm not sure if it even works, so it makes me mega happy to hear ppl like it!!!!

OOO to answer your question I, I do have some silly headcanons over how the Reapers act in office amongst eachother 👁️!!!

It's nothing to developed, but I'll just vomit them all out:

Listen listen... Grelle might be a girlboss but she's also a girlfailure. I don't think she can cook to save her life, BUT I DO THINK she'd want to make Will lunch. Like she thought it'd be cute, but then William suffered food poisoning and she was discouraged. I want to believe... That she managed to learn how to make like simple foods ala cookies. And occassionally brings them to the office. Let me have wholesome interractions...

People often micharacterize Grelle and think she doesn't know how to do her job, but she does!! She's a career driven woman (Yana's words). But she's also really silly and loves to goof around. I feel like her and Ronald are infamous around the office for goofing around. I can see them doing this and will making them work overtime after they crash into some table and scatter papers everywhere:

I love that in canon, Ronald calls Sebastian- Sebas-chan as a joke. It's clear Grelle told him everything about Sebastian, and I think that's really funny. Like Ronald just has an indepth knowledge about Grelle's love life/crushes. It's cute I love them.

I sadly don't have any cool funny headcanons for William, he's just in his plank of wood in a suit mode, doing his job like in canon. Same goes for Othello, since he works at a diff appartment. And Undertaker went rogue so I don't have much for him either :(

Hope you enjoyed these!! Sorry for the wait and thank you for your patience and kind words!!!

@eemoo1o

I haven't watched Centaurworld (yet) BUT I have listened to the songs which are all honestly bangers. If you don't mind some out-of-context spoilers, I made an animatic based on one of the songs with Umineko characters:

But yes I really love the songs and I should probs watch the show too... it just takes me forever to get to stuff XD.

As for other pony shows I like. UHHH- does Bojack Horseman count? He's a horse I know, but that's kinda like a pony... I love Bojack sm... One of my fave shows of all time. The reason I got Netflix actually!

But my dearest pony show is forever MLP!!! It shaped my childhood and I love it dearly. Twilight best pony.

Kinda! Not really. Maybe! I'm no professional voice actor and I barely know what I'm doing, but I do like to voice act here and there!

I actually have an Umineko Fandub I'm doing (on my own), where I voice act... all the characters...

You can watch it here!

@numbereightforever Never apologize for supporting my art!!!! Thank you so much that's really sweet of you <333!!!

@anyarlly I appriciate so much when y'all send me messages like these it makes me so happy that ppl look through my blog and observe the arts it makes me AAA it's like ppl looking into a lil gallery show I made. It's so cool!! Thank you for liking my Grelle arts <33

@anawkwardlady Y E S. Y E S. Finally someone thinks I'm good at selling this damn game. You don't understand how much I struggle to get anyone irl to care abt it, so this... this makes me feel powerful... AAA if you do Umineko consider liveblogging it 👁️ Umineko fans are crazy and love hearing ppl's thought process as they are solving the game >:)!!! But only if u want to! AAAA I'm so happy this made me so happy ty!!!

I consider this a huge win, THANK YOU anon!!! It's the biggest compliment for any queer person to hear their art made someone gayer.

I wanted to draw you something too, so I decided to finish this Sebastian doodle I started awhile ago. Mr yaoi hands still thinks he's in his prime shaking my smh.

#📬 askbox #cw suggestive

[dragongirlcloaca]

Give it up for more self-indulgent smut!!

[Extreme size difference, cum inflation, minor sheath play]

Ci rapped as loud as it could on the bottom of the apartment door, hoping its minuscule fist would be enough to alert Raya to her presence. It was just about to pull out its phone and text her when the door swung open, revealing a tall wolfgirl with a silky chocolate coat, absolutely towering over the 1’4” dragon standing outside

“Hi! Come on in!”, Raya said, smiling.

She led Ci into the apartment, careful not to step on it and giving it plenty of time to catch up to her gargantuan strides. The two entered the kitchen, and Ci fluttered up to the counter to make communication easier.

“Oh! I didn’t know dragons could fly”, said Raya, quizzical.

“Some can, but it depends”, replied Ci. “I do sometimes, but I get tired fast, and with my size I don’t really cover a lot of distance.”

“That’s still pretty neat!” the wolf said. “Tea?”

Ci nodded, and Raya went to put on the kettle.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m...well...ogling you, it’s just that I’ve never seen a dragon as small as you”, she said over her shoulder.

“It’s all good!”, Ci assured. “I’m pretty rare as they come. It certainly has its ups and downs, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I think it’s cute as well”, Raya said, grinning, and Ci blushed, its mint scales showing a faint hint of pink.

The kettle soon finished boiling, and the two sat down for tea, Ci sitting on an overturned mug and drinking out of a shot glass. The two sit and drink, making polite conversation, before the conversation eventually turns to the matter at hand.

“So, what sort of stuff did you have in mind?” Asked Raya smirking, as Ci grew redder.

“Well...um...I was kind of hoping that...you would...-”

“That I would what, Ci? Good dragons use their words”, Raya interjected, dealing a fatal blow to the dragon’s final shred of dignity and causing it to take on the appearance of a flustered tomato.

“T-that you would treat me like a toy and use me however you want!” Ci blurted out, its snout buried in its paws. “Please?”

Raya grinned, fangs barely visible. “I can certainly do that, darling. Why don’t we start with some ground rules?” She leaned over the table, dwarfing the miniature dragon and drinking in the combined expression of lust and fear on its face. “First, unlike good dragons, good toys don’t talk. I would love to gag your pretty little snout, but alas, I doubt I have a gag small enough, so I’ll trust you on that. Secondly, a good toy also doesn’t move. Starting now, you’re just a cute little dragon fucktoy, completely helpless and powerless. And lastly, I want you to be absolutely aware that if it’s ever too much, just say so and I’ll stop right away, no questions asked. Ça va?”

Ci nodded.

“Good,” said Raya. I’m sure I’ll have lots of fun with you, toy.”

Raya rose from her chair, reached over, and lifted up the Ci, slinging it over their shoulder, and strolled down the hallway to her bedroom. Once there, she set Ci down in the middle of the bed, and walked over to her dresser, and added a few drops of oil to a diffuser, sending a pleasant floral fragrance wafting through the room. She dimmed the lights, and lit several candles scattered around the room before tantalizingly shedding her casual t-shirt and jeans to reveal stunning, blood red lingerie that left little of her lithe form to the imagination. Finally, she returned to the bed, seating herself down next to Ci’s limp form.

“I like the look of this toy,” Raya said, lifting the dragon her in paws as if to inspect it. “A real keeper, if you ask me.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the accessories, though.”

She began stripping Ci, setting its clothes and glasses neatly aside. She set it down on her leg, deftly dragging its panties down with a single claw and discarding them.

“What do we have here?” She inquired, lifting Ci and spreading its legs to study its cloaca. “Well, a hole is a hole.”

Raya dragged a claw upwards, running it over the dragon’s soft scales and up to its snout, where she gently pried open its mouth, pushing a finger in to measure. She deemed it satisfactory, and set Ci back on bed. Raya began shedding herself of her lacy panties, exposing her fat, furred balls and sheath. She toyed with it a bit, fucking her sheath with a finger, before picking Ci back up and pushing its snout into her sheath. Raya laid back against the headboard, propping herself up as she used the dragon to fuck her sheath. Pushing it in to her sheath with one paw, she absentmindedly toyed with its breasts with the other, pinching and twisting the tiny nipples. As she slowly grew erect, she could feel the head of her cock pressing into Ci’s snout. Raya pushed down harder, and her cock forced the dragon’s mouth open. “On second thought, gags are overrated”, she thought. She bottomed out soon after as her wolfcock became too wide for the miniature dragon, but kept Ci there, coating her cock in the spit leaking from its maw.

At its full length, Raya’s impressive cock was almost as long as Ci’s entire torso. Lubing herself up with a mixture of precum, spit, and the juices beginning to drip from Ci’s needy cloaca, she wrapped the dragon around her cock, pinning its wings to its sides, and began to stroke, rubbing along its entire body along her member and stimulating herself with the scales covering its belly. She sped up her stroking slowly, albeit mindful that she was using a live dragon as a fucktoy and holding off from full throttle. Raya soon neared climax, and with a lilting howl she ejaculated, covering Ci in thick cum.

After a moment’s rest, she wiped her dick off onto the dragon’s cleanest wing, and lifted it up and licked all the way from its hips to snout, cleaning her cum off of Ci and swallowing it. Raya paused, and then, smiling, wiped off most of the remaining cum with a finger and pushed it into the dragon’s mouth and forced it to swallow. “I’m really liking this new toy. Now let’s get into the real fun.” She laid the helpless Ci out on the bed, spread-eagle, and slowly, methodically traced a sharp claw down its soft stomach, taking all the time in the world before arriving at its cloaca, a beautiful pink flower in contrast to the mint scales covering the rest of its body. Raya leaned down and gave it a taste, experimentally pushing her thick tongue into the dragon’s tight slit. She lapped at the sweet slick flowing from within, and then brushed a pinkie with its claw deliberately trimmed up against Ci’s cloaca, tenderly feeling the delicate slit.

Ever so slowly, Raya begins to push her finger into the tiny dragon, feeling its insides gradually deform as she fucks it like a finger puppet. She licks her lips, and presses her other paw to Ci’s abdomen, feeling her finger inside its guts. She slowly pulls it out a little before driving it back in, using her other paw to hold Ci down to the bed. Raya takes pleasure in fingerfucking the dragon, salivating over how adorable its diminutive form looks pinned to the bed and treated like a lifeless toy. She slows her thrusts, removing her other paw to tend to her rapidly re-hardening cock. She begins to pump her paw down her dick as she fucks Ci, only pausing to smear some of its juices on her shaft to lube it up.

Raya continued to masturbate with animalistic fury until she could feel Ci beginning to quiver round her finger as it neared climax, at which point she pulled her finger all the way out, and stroked her cock until she was moments from letting loose another flood of cum. Fully consumed by lust, she picked the dragon up with both hands, set it on the tip of her cock, and pushed the massive organ as far into its cloaca as it would go- not very far, but enough to spread Ci wide open and give both it and Raya the last bit of stimulation they needed to climax. Raya shot a massive load of hot seed into the dragon, bulging out its abdomen as she bucked her hips in ecstasy. Eventually, her orgasm faded, and she set Ci down on her chest, cum leaking onto her fur.

“How was that?” Raya asked Ci, gently stroking the dragon’s bloated stomach. “You’re free to talk again now, darling.

“That w-was amazing,” it said, stretching out before collapsing onto Raya’s breast. “I think I could go for a nap now, though.

#Writings #A1 #D1

[myimaginedcorner]

A TUMBLR STORY: TORN PAGE (p.2)

“Ah, Fate’s favourite children.”

Lights flicker. Golden shades rest on the woman’s skin, her ginger locks carefully scattered over her slim shoulders.

“You’re a rare encounter around here,” she laughs softly, pulling out a jar with blue and silver battling inside. “Alas, I presume Destiny monitors you much more carefully.”

“Bullshit.”

A hoarse voice intervenes, a voice of a respectful age. Behind me, a creature hidden under a shapeless cloak rests their drink on the table, loud knock echoing through the chamber. Their eyes have no particular tone, years of exhaustion fading all prior colours away. A pair of wise, sharp pupils pierce through you like two spears, their attitude, however, leaving the barwoman unbothered.

“What do you mean, Ralph?” she asks, reading up a new glass for the brewage.

“I mean what I say,” scoffing, Ralph turns around so you can see their temples flash in silver. “Fate’s just bullshit. They’re trapped in that goddamn place, they all are.”

“Ah, Ralph, but aren’t you a bit too judgemental? Our guest here just arrived,” with nothing but a smile, the barwoman gives you a quick nod. “We cannot debate on matters so philosophical without an expert’s opinion.”

“As if,” Ralph’s eyes roll slightly up, snake gaze almost disappearing under heavy eyelids.

“Yes, Ralph, that would be just rude. We must take care of our customer first, and then we can express opinions. After all, we haven’t even heard them out yet.”

You’re served a cup of an uncommon shape: it represents a scale of crystal purity, rivets with pan-holders symmetrically attached to both sides of the beam. Through, you can see the twisted light of candles, bottles of wrong shapes, and the reflection of two emerald eyes, patiently waiting for your evaluation. On it, two different liquids lay within the vessels: right from you, blue smoke raises from an ocean deep to sight, silver floating beneath its surface in swirls of mysterious nature; left, white waits for you, a blizzard climbing up the strings, mist hiding shadows in its diffused realm.

“I’ve tried to replicate your signature beverage,” leaning upon the table, the server’s smile grows wider. “Heard it was made for the peace treaty of the millennia.”

“Peace…?”

It’s the first time they hear your voice. A bit shy, slightly unused to being put to work. Quiet, dry throat preventing you from being more confident. You weren’t expecting to use it so soon – however, you’ve encountered a dilemma. You’ve never heard of that treaty.

“And here you’ve scolded me for being too straightforward…” mutters Ralph behind my back.

“I’m not straightforward, Ralph. I’m realistic!” she shrugs shoulders. “Beings never survive without peace. Somewhere, someone has definitely declared a peace treaty, and we’re celebrating that.”

“You haven’t even asked them when they’re from.”

“Does it matter? It all comes to peace or war. And war eventually comes to peace,” her smile shines. “So, I’m correct no matter their answer.”

You sigh, shaking your head. Their talk confuses you, your mind still not recovered from the ever-present darkness. You still feel void’s touch on your skin – it sends you into shivers.

“Ah, darling, here I am again, losing the conversation!”

Giving it a dramatic sneer, you are once more centre to her attention.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t leave my customer so lost when they’ve just arrived. You’re so beautiful, honey – what’s your style called? Or is it a specific creature that you’re portraying?”

DESCRIPTIONS FOR EACH SPECIES:

Human – You're one, aren't you? Well, if you're not, I'm surprised: humans are one of the most widely spread species in the entire Universe. With their origins traced as far as Earth itself, humans are highly adaptable to any kind of environment. They survive in any habitable planet, and are inclined to quickly acquire the most profitable resources to help them in their settling. They're smart, cunning, and versatile: despite their weaker anatomy, they compensate it by having the most advanced defensive and offensive technology in the entire Cosmos. In worlds as magically charged as Therania, humans quickly became skilled mages and healers, building their first cities in lands deemed impossible to prosper in.

Satyr – Nature's guardians. Satyrs aren't that widely spread across the Universe, requiring of specific habitats to live in: they're strongly dependent of an abundant source of magic present in the world's layers, as well as they require of big forests to protect and settle. In most cases, they also need a divine patron that would imbue them with power and immortality - that makes the satyrs some of the innately strongest species on Therania's grounds, but also, some of the most limited ones. They never leave their forests if they're bound to Nature. Otherwise, they are stripped of all their privileges, and become as weak as humans, with their agility being the sole perk that makes them more flexible in their movements. They also get subjected to the 'golden fever': those that experienced true power once, become thirsty for more, and search for new ways - sometimes, illegal ones - to bring that feeling back.

Elf – Scholars. While there are as many approaches to elves as there are Authors on Earth, Therania's elves claim to have one of the oldest ancestries within this species' history. Born as a native race to this magical planet, the elves are creatures of a long lifespan, obsessed with knowledge and research. Most of them spend their entire lives exploring one single topic, learning all what they can about a certain field, and writing papers for future generations. Some have more practical professions, however, they approach them with the same amount of dedication. The amount of time an elf has given to a certain topic can be seen reflected in their appearance: the bigger grows the percentage of their lifespan sacrificed to a certain matter, the more their skin, eyes, hair and even shapes mimic what they have been researching. And yet, despite their drive for progress, the slow, and often eccentric nature of elven research doesn't help Therania's stagnant scientific and magical progress, with little difference brought by the last generation of elven scholars, engineers, or even adventurers.

Berserk – also known as 'the humans from the Battle Lands', little is known of the berserk's actualy history. With no writing tradition present in their culture, various are the legends surrounding these warmongering species, whose mentality is set on constant struggle against each other. Strong, resistant, berserks are split into two factions bound by eternal war: children of Amtell, who believe in magical enhancement of their abilities, and children of Galtris, whose sole path in life is the constant breakthrough for their physical capacities. Both blame each other for the conflict, yet both believe that conflict is the only stage in which their species can exist. Followers of the Old Gods, they grow and live to be a weapon, fight bringing balance to their meaning.

Dryad - if satyrs are Nature's guardians, then dryads are Nature's spawns. They're products of a heavy magical presence within a forest: when energy exceeds a certain level, tree souls are able to acquire a shape, a so, a dryad's born. Bound to their trees at first, dryads live and die with their parent plant, their lives consisting of a carefree existence in the woods' most profound thicket. Often they're seen near lakes and rivers, for their own bathing keeps their trees refreshed in the driest times. Usually, no dryad leaves the forest where they have been born, unless their tree has moved locations. However, everywhere exceptions are to prove the rule. Some dryads, losing their tree, don't disappear immediately, but can live up to what is half of a human lifespan. What happens to them, is unknown: one cannot even imagine what is for a soul to lose its heart and body.

Honsa - In caves far from any sight, in labyrinths so old they were still carved beneath Therania's soil, a species known to barely anyone exists. They spend their time between two worlds, their eyes used to both light and darkness. With settlements built where sun isn't welcomed, they often walk between the other creatures, their presence, nonetheless, unnoticed to unknowing eyes. They're shifters - their true appearance hasn't been recorded by a scholar yet. Often, they choose to look like some exotic angel, and so, it is considered that their real body has its wings. They tend to also be quite big and high, their necks only slightly longer than the rest of species. Their image changes according to the situation, and their adaptability knows no bounds: their wings can be as soft as fluff or as hard as the strongest metal; their breathing can be air sucked into lungs, or water passed through gills. They can survive even the most extreme situations, and so, killing them is extremely hard. They do, however, never show their real face, and that points to a major weakness.

Skazka - Hello.

#torn page #new page #tumblr story #tumblr community #poll

[stingslikeabee]

------IT'S OBVIOUS HOW nervous he is approaching her, talking to her. with the shield of a case gone, without a barrier of official business to keep his mind at ease, dr. spencer reid is completely defenseless. prentiss had once joked that his generous iq was instantly slashed by half in the presence of beautiful women, and she had been right ... it was easy to disarm him. though for reid's benefit ... not every woman held that particular magic. it was a certain kind of beauty - effortless, the confidence without ego, the way he looked at them and knew that there was intelligence beneath the obvious layer, that always knocked him down a peg.

he occasionally kept touch with people once their cases had been solved. touched based and ensured their lives were going back to as close to normal as they could ... whenever he was in the area. sometime he formed that extra connection, a bond that had him seeing an echo of himself. sometimes it was just ... impulse. what business did reid have with the madam of a high-end escort service? in earnest, none. but that was hardly a deterrent.

" i hope everything is settling itself out. " he felt guilty that a few of her girls has been preyed on before they'd caught the man who'd subjected them to horrors reid was all-too familiar with, by now. " the ... girls are alright, you're alright. " the clarification was soft in his tone, the light rasp that always accompanied his lilt. hands pressed into his pockets and reid found an excuse to look anywhere but at melissa's eyes (lest he fall into the trap their honey offered) and lose the ability to speak properly.

unscripted asks . always accepting

There was always a table reserved for Melissa at the panoramic restaurant of the hotel - a small favor from the local administration in return to the lady responsible for some relevant revenue brought in thanks to top-shelf bottles bought and luxury suites reserved routinely for the girls she dutifully managed. A good relationship for both sides - a trademark of a service provider of her nature.

With escorting, regardless of how cultured, beautiful and discreet the women were, business and pleasure were always mingling and blurring the lines. The role of an agent, removed from the more carnal aspects, was to ensure that it was done safely - and until recently, Melissa had been brilliant at it... Until things almost went south and she feared not only for her life, but for those of the girls who trusted their futures to her knowledge of the industry.

Their hero had a name - Doctor Spencer Reid, the only one who was able to put together the scattered clues and catch the criminal before something irreversible took place. Their first meeting had happened under less than ideal circumstances - but keeping in touch now pleased Melissa, particularly when no one's life was at stake, her make-up was not ruined by panicked crying and her wrists were no longer reddened by the friction caused by crude rope.

The brunette raised her head when Spencer approached - and Melissa immediately left her seat to stand, the fond smile on the madame's face being completely ignored by the man given how intently he stared at anything else but the lady in green right within reach. In many ways - the woman recognized the signs now; she was no profiler, but she was good at reading men given her prior job as a former high-profile escort herself.

Shy, perhaps self-conscious and with some social awkwardness around women like her, frequently dressed to impress and unafraid to highlight their best attributes. But still - it was such a welcome change of pace; Melissa would rather be with Spencer on her own free time than with any of the men she politely tolerated with bloated egos thanks to their fat bank accounts (alas, the downside of being in the service industry and dealing with people).

"Doctor Reid, it's so good to see you. My favorite person in all of the world right now," the woman said with a small chuckle, but it was not of the mocking kind - Melissa meant it, and it showed in how she reached for him: briefly and gently, but wordlessly asking for him to look at her while they talked by steering his chin up and making their gazes connect.

"We are recovering from the shock - just a hard lesson and nothing more than that thanks to that lovely brain of yours," flattery was just part of her routine, but it was nonetheless genuine given the origin of their relationship, "I do hope you're not in a hurry? I can't possibly allow you to leave without having lunch with me - anything you wish is on me today, even if it's off the menu. The kitchen staff will make you anything that you heart desires, I can vouch for them."

#dctrreids #v: House of Flowers #replied #this was so impossibly cute #I hope she is suitably sweet in return #(yeah I know he was trying not to look but you know Mel) #(she will touch him and fix that in a second >_>)

[helliontherapscallion]

sibling hybrid!creeper reader headcannons/one-shot for SBI ( + ranboo? 🧍‍♀️ ) hurt/comfort. like maybe the reader struggles with emotions and doesn't know how to deal w/ them healthily, so they end up bottling them up and kinda explode at times.

sorry if this is too specific, i just really like your writing :) congrats on 1k!! <3

and one last thing,.. can i be 🫂 anon?

(A/N): I had a lot of fun with this one, and thank you : ) I hope you don’t mind that I added Tubbo. Also one more thing, I imagine the explosion is kinda like a Bakugou situation but uncontrollable

Warnings: anti-hybrid rhetoric/slurs (speciesism???), swearing, blood (not much, just mentions of a nose bleed)

It was completely an accident this time, it all just came so fast. You were standing in front of a store window when you felt something rub against your leg. When you looked down, panic engulfed your entire being when you saw an orange cat rubbing and nuzzling against your leg, letting out deep purrs. You had no clue why this cat wasn’t chasing you like all other cats usually did, but you didn’t want to ponder. You felt the familiar pressure building up inside of you as a startled hiss left your mouth and you jumped away from the creature. Your skin was sparking and popping as your freckles lit up in a glowing green light. 

Finally, explosions left your skin as the glass shattered next to you and gravel was turned up and thrown about. You fell to your knees and rubbed at your burning eyes and wiped the blood from your nose. Exploding like that had always taken a lot out of you and made your nose bleed. You suspected that it was because of the sudden build up and release of pressure and energy. 

The back of your shirt was grabbed and you were yanked off from the ground. There staring at you was the owner of the shop that you accidentally blew up. His green eyes were ablaze as he gritted his teeth and looked into your eyes.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?! You blew up my window!”

Small hisses left your mouth, “I-I’m sorry sir I swear I didn’t mean t-”

“Like hell you didn’t! Your kind always destroys everything!”

You stopped struggling and narrowed your eyes at him, “my kind?”

“Yes, hybrids! Filthy mutts, all you do is destroy! You’re a bunch of freaks.”

You could feel another explosion coming about and this time you did not even attempt to hold this one back. You stared him dead in the eyes with the harshest glare you could muster. As soon as the hisses started to leave your mouth and the freckles once again glowed green, the man’s eyes widened before he threw you into the street away from the building. Another explosion left you and disassembled the neat cobblestone of the road. A single stone flew and shattered what was left of the store window. Another flew and hit the store owner in the head knocking him out. 

And here you were now; hisses left your mouth as you ran down the beaten path of the village towards the exit. The iron golem following you was hot on your tail, it’s booming footsteps picking up dust clouds from the gravel. Villagers around you scattered and started to whisper fearfully amongst themselves. You could feel their fearful and angry stares burning holes through you. After you got out of the village and the iron golem was still chasing you, you ducked into the forest where you knew it wouldn’t follow you. You climbed up a tree and watched as the golem angrily smacked the foliage out of the way before it gave up and hobbled back into the village. 

You dragged your feet tiredly back home, wanting nothing more than to collapse in your bed. Your senses were on overdrive as you were hyper aware of everything around you. You’ve never exploded twice within the span of ten minutes before, and it wore you out. Small exhausted hisses left your mouth as you trudged along the path. 

After getting home you walked past a confused and concerned Wilbur, dodging his hands that were trying to grab you so he could get a better look at you. You walked up the stairs ignoring his questions and walked past Tommy.

“Hey sparky, what’s got you lookin like shit?” He asked you before he started to laugh to himself at the nickname he knew you hated. You winced at the volume of his voice before you hissed angrily and stomped off into your room before you passed out immediately in your bed the second you threw yourself onto it. 

You didn’t wake up until a hand shook you awake firmly. You peeled open your eyes to see Tommy hovering over you looking slightly scared. When you fully opened your eyes, he sighed in relief.

“Oh my fucking Ender, I thought you died for a second.”

You only groaned and covered your head with the covers trying to block out the morning light streaming into your room and Tommy’s voice. He shook you more, your entire bed shaking with it. “Get up. Dad wants you downstairs for breakfast cuz you skipped lunch and dinner.”

You said nothing as he ripped the covers off from you eventually and pulled you out of your bed. You landed on the floor with a thump and hissed a little in frustration. You stood up and pushed him out of your room and slammed the door behind him. The locked door handle jimmied before it stopped and everything was silent. You prayed that he went away, but alas he didn’t. You rubbed your forehead when he started to knock at your door in multiples of two.

Knock knock, “(y/n)?” Knock knock, “(y/n)?” Knock knock, “(y/n)?” Knock kno-

“I’ll be down in a minute fuckface. I’m gonna get dressed.”

“If you aren’t down in five minutes I’m getting Techno. He’ll carry your ass down.”

Downstairs, you shambled into the kitchen past the table and poured yourself a cup of coffee. Your family silently watched you before the conversation started back up again. You plopped down next to Wilbur and sipped at your coffee deliriously. He eyed you in concern, “you okay?” You hummed and poked at your eggs. You didn’t feel hungry at all. “You su-”

“Yes, I’m sure Wilbur.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and returned to your coffee. After your fourth cup of coffee you were cut off by a concerned Philza. Even after four cups of coffee, you still felt slightly physically drained and it showed in your sluggish movements. Your day went by with you holding in your frustration and anger from everybody constantly asking if you were okay. Days of holding in explosions passed with them finally leaving you alone. However, that did nothing to alleviate your bottled up frustrations.

Techno was sitting on the couch reading a book while Wilbur was sitting in the chair across the room trying to find the lyrics of his next song. Philza was in the kitchen doing who knows what. You were currently walking up to Tommy’s room to say hi to your old friends Tubbo and Ranboo after getting home from a trip to another village. 

That trip was rough for you but not as rough as the one a few days prior; you could only stand so much fear filled and hateful staring after all. Your creeper features consisting of pitch black irises and dark gray sclera, a mop of dark green hair, and green freckles sprayed randomly across your skin was definitely an attention grabber for anyone. A few of the kids even threw rotten tomatoes and stones at you, it was so hard holding in explosions by the time you left that you just felt very overwhelmed. Hanging out around the self proclaimed ‘bench trio’ always enough to calm you down from a rough day. Mellohi’s muffled relaxed beat makes the corners of your lips twitch into a small smile. 

However just as you opened the door to Tommy’s room, you could hear their conversation end. “Hey guys, how’re-”

A yelp left your throat as something very cold drenched your body. An iron bucket came tumbling down and hit your head before falling to the floor with a clank. The pressure that has been building up in your chest increased tenfold, but you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to walk to your room for a change of clothes. Behind you, you heard Tommy laughing hysterically while Tubbo tried to apologize between his own laughter. You didn’t even have to look at Ranboo to know that he was guiltily fiddling with his sleeves as his tail flicked back and forth sharply. 

After you went into your room, you grabbed your pillow and screamed as loud as you could into it to blow off some steam. After that didn’t work, you tried punching the pillow relentlessly but that didn’t work. You could still feel pressure and energy inside your chest lingering and threatening to burst. 

You sighed and made your way downstairs walking past Tommy’s door. You could now hear Ranboo laughing with them, and that just made you even more angry than you were before. 

Everything around you was pissing you off. Philza’s wings fluttering behind him subconsciously, Technoblade’s little ‘heh’’s as he read something that caught him off guard in his book, Wilbur’s humming and mumbling to himself as he composed his next song, Tommy’s, Ranboo’s, and Tubbo’s loud laughter echoing from Tommy’s room. Every little sound was enough to send you over the edge. Just as you were about to leave the house to calm down again, a knock sounded at the door.

Philza gently pushed you behind him with furrowed brows and a hand on the sword hung around his hip. Techno’s book snapped shut as he stood up to grab his axe while Wilbur walked over to you and put a protective hand on your shoulder. You understood why they were cautious; you didn’t normally get visitors and the last time the house did, it was someone that decided to try and attack Technoblade on sight when he opened the door screaming about how hybrids aren’t natural. Keyword: tried. Techno absolutely would’ve killed him if it wasn’t for Philza holding him back. 

You felt anxiety creep up inside you as you fought against the small hisses trying to escape your mouth. The door opened slowly to reveal the store owner from a few days ago. His eyes hardened when he saw the wings sprouting from Philza’s back before his eyes flicked to you. He did not look happy to see you behind your dad’s massive wings. Without another word, you turned and ran up to your room when you felt the pressure become almost unbearable. 

You ran past Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo who were leaving Tommy’s room with hesitance. You didn’t respond when they tried to stop you. Slamming your door closed, you sat on your bed with your head clutched in your hands desperately trying to fight against the pressure building up. Small pops sounded on your skin as you grit your teeth in concentration. You could hear knocking at your door, thank god you locked it behind you. You had no idea how long you were sitting there trying to hold it back.

When the pressure became too much and you felt yourself losing grip on your control, you knew you needed to get out of the house as soon as possible. This was going to be a huge explosion, probably the biggest one you were going to do. The loud continuous hiss that left your throat was something you weren’t actively doing, another telltale sign that you were about to explode. You ripped open the door, pulled yourself from Tommy’s grasp, and ran as fast as you could downstairs. Philza followed you with a furious expression when he saw you, the store owner seemingly having left. 

“(Y/n), what in the hell did you do?” He grabbed your arm and pulled you to the living room. You tried your hardest to pull out of his grasp, but he was holding on too tight. The hissing had gotten slightly louder, but you moved a hand up to your mouth to try and muffle it. He sat you down on the couch and started pacing in front of you, his feathers puffed up angrily. Wilbur and Techno were eyeing you warily from across the room. 

“What were you thinking, blowing up his store like that? Were you even thinking? Cuz that was stupid (y/n). Hybrids get enough bad rap, and you go and pull this?!”

“Dad-”

“Not now Wilbur. As I was saying, you could’ve killed someone! What would you do then-”

“Dad,” Techno’s assertive tone stopped Philza in his tracks as he ran a hand down his face. “What could you possibly want right now, boys?”

“(Y/n)’s gonna explode soon.” Wilbur hurried over to you and helped you up. You could hear the three younger boys’ steps thundering down the stairs. By now, you were visibly shaking and sweating with the effort of holding explosions back. You could see the glowing of your freckles through the reflection of Wilbur’s glasses. 

“Shit,” Philza sounded panicked in that moment as Wilbur ushered you out of the house and into the forest. You pushed him away and stumbled your way deeper into the forest. You heard them attempting to follow you, but you gestured for them to get back. You had no idea how big this one was going to be, but it was definitely going to be large. 

You ran deeper into the forest until you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Leaning against a tree, you finally let yourself explode. This one was painful; your skin burned with every pop that emanated from your freckles, the burning making your free nerve endings scream at you. The last thing you saw was a wave of dirt splashing up before you blacked out. 

You were in and out of consciousness for the next week or so. Whenever you would wake up slightly, it would only be for a couple moments before you would pass out again. It was in those moments that the pain and the lack of energy hit you at full force. You supposed being unconscious was better than the mental and physical fog and the pain. 

By the time you fully woke up, your senses were slightly hyperactive, but nowhere near how you felt when you blew up that store. You reached up with a heavy hand to wipe at your crusty eyes before you heard rustling next to you. You looked over to see Philza standing at the door with a glass of water in his hand. When he saw that you were awake, he rushed to your side and helped you sit up. You took the water gratefully and drank it, the liquid refreshed your dry throat. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Tired and a little sore. How long was I out for?”

“About a week, you really worried us. That was a really big one. Do you know why it was so big?”

You nodded and looked down at the water in your hands, swirling it around the glass. You didn’t want to tell him about feeling angry and overwhelmed at every little thing around you the past few days. You felt guilty at that, they were just trying to live their lives while you were cursing them for merely existing. A finger under your chin made you look up at Philza. His eyes were full of gentleness and empathy, “c’mon, you can tell me. I want to help you.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start wherever you feel comfortable. Take as much time as you need.” He sat on the edge of your bed and looked around your room while he waited. You took a second to gather your thoughts before you took a deep breath. Philza perked up and diverted his full attention to you. 

“It started when I first blew up that guy’s store. I swear it was an accident that time, a cat snuck up on me and rubbed on me,” you shuddered, small hisses leaving your mouth. “The guy came out and picked me up by my shirt. He called us some names so I kinda got mad and blew up on purpose.”

“‘Us’?”

You nodded, “hybrids. He said that ‘our kind’ destroys everything.” You glared at the glass in your hands, hissing in contempt and watching the freckles dully glow green. “He called us ‘filthy mutts’ and freaks, Dad.” Philza looked slightly peeved at the name calling, “still, you shouldn’t’ve blown up on him. You could’ve killed him, (y/n).”

“So you’re saying that it’s okay for him to call us slurs? Should we just let people slander us?” You narrowed your eyes at him. He shook his head, his medium length blond hair swaying with the movement. “Hell no, I’m not saying that at all. You should never let someone call you things, but violence is never the answer.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, “frankly, he deserved what was coming to him. I just wish he didn’t throw me before I could blow up.” 

“Hold on, he fucking threw you?” You nodded and watched his eyes darken and anger flash across his face, “violence is sometimes the answer then. Did he hurt you?” 

“No, but I just felt so… so drained. But so overwhelmed at the same time. I’ve never exploded twice in the same day before.”

He hummed in realization, “so that’s why you slept through most of the day. Sorry, go on.”

“After Tommy woke me up everything just felt worse. It was like everything around me was amplified. It was hell, the last few days I was just hyper aware of everything and it was pissing me off. Every little thing drove me crazy, I could feel myself getting closer and closer to exploding but I held it back until I couldn’t anymore.” 

“(Y/n), you know that’s not healthy… I talked to Sam, you remember right?” You shook your head, “well, he was an old friend of Wilbur’s. He used to come here all the time before he had to move away. He’s a creeper hybrid like you,” he chuckled when you perked up, “he gave me some advice on your anatomy when you were growing up. Anyways, he told me that sensory overload is common when you explode. He said that it’s normal to feel drained afterwards and to definitely get plenty of sleep. The sensory issues apparently get worse if your rest is interrupted, so that was probably why you felt overwhelmed in the past few days… He also told me that it really isn’t healthy to explode more than once a day or to hold it in for longer than necessary. Please just come to me if you’re feeling overwhelmed again or if you need to rest after exploding. I can even build you an obsidian building where you could go and not blow up anything.”

“...I’d like that. What- what else did he tell you?” Philza chuckled and started to tell you more about what Sam told him about his anatomy. He even gave you Sam’s comms contact so you could contact him if you had any questions or wanted some advice. He was a nice man when you talked to him, always having an answer for your questions. You even found old pictures of you as a baby following him around. Apparently you could tell that he was part creeper; wherever he was in the house, you were bound to be near him.

The rest of the day, you hung out with the rest of your family and the bench trio. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno wasn’t one for open affection, being the type to give you little trinkets and giving you suggestions on what to read next. Every time you woke up, you would find small objects ranging from gold to emeralds and books on your nightstand. He would vehemently deny being the one that gave you the items, but you and the rest of the family knew better. Sometimes, he would drop into your room to ask you what you thought of the book and have a thorough discussion about it with you while you were recovering. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You leaned against Wilbur’s side with his arm wrapped around you. The hand that was around you was rubbing circles into your shoulder. After he scolded you for bottling up your emotions, he climbed into your bed and pulled you to his side. Small hums left his throat. 

“(Y/n)?” You hummed, your eyes half lidded and almost about to fall asleep. “Would you mind if I wrote a song about you? It would fit with the next album’s theme.” 

“Knock yourself out.” Your words were slightly slurred as you nuzzled closer to him. He laughed a bit, the sound being muffled and reverberating his chest. “Get some sleep. I’ll brainstorm some ideas to run by you before you wake up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanging out with the self proclaimed ‘bench trio’ was always fun, even if you were on strict orders to stay in bed by Dadza. Nobody argues with a concerned Dadza, but they found other ways to hang out with you. Tommy had moved his jukebox into your room and was playing cat, the music soothing you immensely and putting an end to your worries. However, what didn’t soothe you was the card game in front of you. 

You were watching in horror as everybody put down a plus two card stacking the amount the victim would have to draw. So far, the plus two streak had already gone around the circle once and is now going around once more. It was nearing your turn and it was with great horror that you realized you didn’t have a color changing card or a plus two card. The two cards in your hand felt heavy as you watched Ranboo pull out another card.

“Please Ranboo, I’ll do anything. Don’t put that card down.” You watched as his ears twitched before he smiled innocently at you, putting the card down and laughing at you when you started the long process of drawing fourteen cards and sorting them. 

“Sorry, my hand slipped.”

“Get fucked (y/n)!” Tommy cackled at you. You flipped him off before you went back to sorting the cards. Tubbo put down a plus four color changing card and smiled at Tommy. 

“Sorry Tommy, but uno and the color is now red!”

“Goddamnit Tubbo! That’s the one color I don’t have,” he grumbled and drew four cards. Ranboo smiled triumphantly and put down his last card before showing you his empty hands. “What?! You didn’t even say uno!” You eyed his smug smile with disbelief. 

“You guys didn’t call me on it though.”

“That’s not the rules, Ranboo! You have to say uno!” Tommy argued. Long story short, the rules had to be looked up and the family had to be consulted before your group came to the conclusion that you in fact do not have to call out uno and the other players could call them out on it. Eventually after a few tense games, the three were sitting on your bed. Ranboo had some difficulty with it due to his height, but he managed with his legs crossed. 

“(Y/n) do you reckon you could become charged if you were hit by lightning?”

“Tubbo, you’re a genius,” Tommy breathed out, “let’s go see!” 

“No, you will not go see. Sit back down.” Wilbur called out as he passed your room. The group slumped slightly. “We’ll see when I get better. Mark my words, the next thunderstorm that happens I will see if I can be charged.” You whispered to them, your eyes glinting with mischief. 

“I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is, Ranboo. It probably won’t kill them.”

“Probably?” Ranboo raised an eyebrow at Tommy’s nonchalant answer. “Yes, probably.”

“I still have three lives left. If I die, I die.” You wove a hand in the air as you spoke and watched as Tubbo nodded in agreement. “Do it for science, (y/n).”

“Oh I will. For science!” You raised your water glass in the air and Tommy and Tubbo followed suit with wide smiles. “For science!”

You three turned to stare at a deadpanning Ranboo. He sighed before he raised his glass of milk and let out a monotone “for science.” You, Tommy, and Tubbo cheered as you clanked your glasses together. You could see a hint of a fond smile on Ranboo’s face as he watched you three chug your waters before he downed his milk in one swallow. 

You smirked at them and leaned close, talking lowly so that anyone passing by wouldn’t overhear you. “So, what’s our plan?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser  @ohworm-writes  @localwolfanon

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #sbi family au #bench trio x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #🫂 anon #hellion's 🫂 anon #requests #hellion's requests #1k special #hellion's 1k special #tw: blood #tw: swearing #tw: sensory overload

[april-avenue-archiving]

Aaa okay so the face grab hc thingy you posted recently was SO…… aaa…

So can i request the same thing but with the characters doing it to gn reader! (Xiao, Diluc, Albedo and whoever else you’d like!!) I hope the request is okay, if not then please go ahead and delete it~ Thank you!!

Oml thank you! <3 of course my love. you guys are so kind to me my heart bursts every time

Minors DNI

Part one

This contains: sub gn reader, degradation, reader is still boss only in dilucs though, boss/subordinate dynamic, use of the word slut/whore/bitch/dumb, unestablished relationship, reader is naked (albedo)

This was kinda hard to write cause like I think genshin and my mind goes sub men and dom women. Also character degrading reader is not my forte but alas I shall try :)

Diluc ☆〜

>You being his boss doesn’t really bother him. He patiently listens and follows orders when asked nicely. He figures that you being happy with your job is enough for him. Until one day you let it get to your head.

>You’d asked him to clear all the tables of plates and cups so you could wipe them down and rearrange them. This festival was very important to you and the bar, patrons came from every part of the land to drink and party. You were stressed and busy so maybe you didn’t phrase it the nicest way possible.

>So he decided he didn’t like your attitude, ignoring the task you gave him.

“Diluc I told you to have this done two hours ago! You had one job!”

>He watched you start picking up the cups from the table. Rushing from side to side throwing things into the sick while muttering under your breath. He seriously couldn’t do one simple thing!

“Really Diluc, you know how much we have to get done and you decide to be an asshole today?!”

>Pushing off the wall he comes up behind you as you bend over the table reaching for a plate. Taking your face into his hands and gripping your waist he whispers,

“Remember darling. Just because you’re my boss doesn't mean I don't still own you.”

Xiao ☆〜

>You had a simple job. Keeping Xiao’s affairs in order. You told him where he was needed and if he had any letters or messages. Nothing else. If he refused to go somewhere you just quietly contacted the original person and declined their offer.

>But today you changed job descriptions. You voiced your worry for him out loud.

“I think you should stop and eat something before heading to Ms.names place.”

“I told you I'm not stopping and I’m not going to her either! Didn’t I tell you to send her a letter?”

“Well yes but she stated it was urgent and I-”

>He pulled you into a village alley and caged you in his arms. Heart raced and breath quickened you worried you made him seriously mad. Nudging your face to look at him he smoothed your cheek bone with his thumb. Contrasting the sharp and harsh words he spat.

“Listen to me you bitch. I give you orders so you follow them. Or is that too complicated for a dumb slut like you?”

Albedo ☆〜

>He was the world's best boss. Again like Xiao you kinda just did what he needed. Sometimes you made tea and sometimes you cleaned his office. But your favorite was when you worked in his art studio.

>Walls covered in sketches of all around the land. Pretty pink trees you've never seen seemed to be common among his finished works. People and inventions scattered among landscapes.

>Today he hadn’t told you what he needed, just that he wanted you in the studio.

“Paint me?”

“Of course you are very picturesque.”

>Handing you a bunch of the pink tree flowers he told you to pose. But not just any pose. He wanted you naked and the flowers to cover your crotch.

>Setting down a large white cloth he instructed you to lay down and get comfortable and not move your body or the flowers. You were sure you were doing a good job until he rose from his easel and stood over your figure.

“I need you to stop moving”

“But I don’t understand sir, I haven't moved”

Crouching down he tilted your head up, eyes meeting in the process.

“I guess if you don’t understand I’ll just have to fuck it into you. Show you how to stay still and be real good for me”

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao smut #xiao #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc #albedo x reader #albedo smut #albedo

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you to @venelona for commissioning this piece from their amazing au, Check & Mate! Take a look at their @undertale-check-and-mate​ blog if you’re interested in the aesthetic & super cool worldbuilding~

“I have no idea how I beat you before, Papyrus.”

Frisk stared at the scattered chessboard, her brow deeply furrowed, finger rapping repeatedly against the tabletop in her frustration. Papyrus, opposite her, sat in his smart black and white chequered uniform... the picture of a winner.

This was just a casual game between friends. Of course, Frisk approached it with just as much fierce competitiveness as she would any other, but it was still nowhere near as high stakes as the official first match she’d had when she first met Papyrus. She moved her bishop, taking a pawn, saying the move aloud as Papyrus did- he was encouraging her to do so while in practise, to familiarise herself with the board and the options she had at hand.

“THROUGH YOUR OWN TALENT AND SKILL, OF COURSE! BISHOP TO F7.” He said, moving it with a gloved hand and taking the bishop she’d just pushed- he’d baited her with a pawn sacrifice. She groaned, puting her head in her hands, running her fingers through her chestnut hair... How the hell did I miss that? “SOME DAYS, WE PLAY BETTER, AND SOME DAYS WE JUST CAN’T WRAP OUR HEAD AROUND THE BOARD. THOUGH WHETHER MY DEFEAT WAS A FLUKE OR NOT, WE SHALL HAVE TO SEE WITH MORE GAMES... SHAN’T WE?”

“At this rate, fluke or no, Undyne is going to get me in two moves.”

Papyrus was fantastic to play against. He was a true enthusiast; he knew openings Frisk didn’t even know existed, he could adopt any play style or development or combination, he had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the game and through it all he had brilliant sportsmanship. After her first match with him in the snow, where she’d beaten him in a pulse-jumping game, the win/loss ratio between the two of them had been almost 50/50 and playing him was her no.1 method of efficient practise... especially considering her goal of beating every monster in this strange undeground world at chess. 

...

Papyrus was the complete opposite of his brother.

Sans the skeleton was the only monster, the only monster, who hadn’t challenged Frisk to a game when he met her- something that immediately wildly threw her off. “i’m way too lazy,” he’d said, with a wide and casual grin that almost fooled her into believing him. Black pants and sleeves, white gloves, a white shirt and shoulder-covering cape with black trim... and the most ridiculous long chequered double-tie she’d ever seen with a small bone-shaped lapel pin.

I don’t know how he manages to look good in that. But... he does.

... There was something behind his tiny eyelights, stupid grin and lazy demeanour. She saw it the second she shook his hand- he was observing her. He was smart... he was the interesting kind of smart.

... So why won’t you pick up a chess piece?

It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part, to say the least. Frisk had been asking him borderline nonstop. Curiosity about his true aptitude, combined with her determination to beat everyone (which included him), created a storm that couldn’t be subsided- but at this rate she’d be dead of old age before he moved a pawn, seeing as he seemed to be totally immovable in his resolution to not engage her.

... Which only spurred her on even more. Of course.

“nah. i’m terrible at chess. wouldn’t know a knight from a rook from a raven. i’ll leave all that hard work to the professionals.”

At that moment, he was reclined on his couch, apparently totally ignoring the casual match going on a few feet away. She had yet to see his eyelights glancing over to their table...

...

But her suspicions were mounting.

Looking over the board, her finger finally stopped tapping- Frisk spied an opportunity. 

...

“... Hm...” Her eyes narrowed in mock thought, and she had to try pretty hard not to immediately look over at Sans and make herself too obvious as she ‘wondered’ aloud. “... If I... rook to e1...”

... It was a total lie. She wasn’t going to make that move- it would leave her king completely open for Papyrus to move in and sweep up a pawn, checkmating it with his queen and ending the game there and then.

...

Sans went still.

Frisk spotted it, a hawk seeing a bunny twitch; he’d moved his skull a fraction of an inch to the side. He’d given himself away.

... He ‘wouldn’t know a rook from a raven’, huh?

“... Actually, no. Pawn to g5.”

///

Papyrus had to leave, eventually- heading to his training for entry into the King’s royal guard. He’d beaten Frisk, that time, catching her out with a knight and cornering her... but of course, being Papyrus, he was boastless and jeerless and merely congratulated her on a ‘FANTASTIC’ game with a handshake and a bright smile before he went.

His departure left Frisk alone in the house. 

With Sans.

...

... She reset the scrambled board, lining everything up and turning to look over her shoulder at the skeleton still silently reclined on the sofa. Even when lazed back with his lapel pin wonky, he somehow managed to look sharp in his outfit.

“Heeeey Sans....” She said, voice sweet and sing-songy, thick lashes fluttering. She even adopted a ‘cuter’ position- crossing her legs and resting her cheek on the back of the chair. “Y’know. You should come play with me.”

“no.” He didn’t even open his sockets, speaking in that calm and collected baritone, with a little teasing lilt in return for her playfulness.

Ugh. She quickly gave up on the cute position, sitting forward. “C’mooon...”

“you’re too far away. i’m so lazy. can’t.”

... Well. 

Not to be deterred, she prised her fingers under the entire board and hefted it up, carefully getting down from the table to carry it across the room. She placed it on the coffee table just in front of the couch and kneeled on the floor, eyes and smile glinting.

The sound of the board hitting the tabletop (and a few pieces rattling and falling over) was enough to make him actually crack open a socket, clearly curious- the pinprick eyelight observed her with that lowkey sharpness she really couldn’t take her eyes off of.

“... Look, I’ll even open, since you’re so lazy.” She picked up a white pawn. “Pawn to d4.”

...

... Sans sighed. He opened both sockets, and sat up in his seat... her heart jumped into her throat and she sat up straighter too; could this be it? Had she broken him with her pestering? Was he finally going to play a game with her? His eyelights were so intense, so unreadable as he looked across at the board. His gaze lifted to her... Sans smiled, leaning forward...

...

He flicked his king over.

“oh no.” He said, sitting back, sockets closing again. “you sunk my battleship.”

...

Frisk sat on her heels, throwing her head back and letting out a dramatic and loud world-weary groan that would’ve worked just as well coming from someone three times her age, smacking her hands against the tiny coffee table and jumping all the loose chess pieces. It made him snicker from his position on the sofa- absorbed in how cruel the world was and how her suffering was never going to end, Frisk completely missed the tiny fond look he shot her.

“You’re a total liar, y’know.” She wanted to throw something at him, but she just settled for crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at his stupid smug face seeing as the nearest throwable objects were all furniture. “You know how to play, I saw you listening in to the game earlier.”

“dunno what you’re talking about.” He was making the couch look... awfully comfy. How he was practically sinking into it... and she’d been sat at the table for what felt like hours while she played against Papyrus.

... She abandoned the board to come and sit heavily beside him, frustrated at once again being thwarted. Frisk knew he wasn’t going to admit his lie; and she wasn’t even going to try to get the confession out of him, it’d be like trying to get blood from a stone. But she at least had that knowledge... none of his dodging or thwarting could take that away from her.

“You. Are such a pain.” She grumbled.

“course.” He replied, in that wonderful voice of his. “s’my job.”

...

“So...” Frisk felt her smile widening. No rest for the wicked. She moved closer to him on the couch, shuffling over the cushions... juuust until her knee was touching his. “You like jokes, right?”

He glanced at her, cool calm & unaffected. “i sure do.”

She fully grinned at him. “Tell me a chess joke. I know you have a few rattling around in that skull of yours.”

“... you wanna hear a chess joke? when i have so many other brilliant puns? i’m hurt.”

“Go on.” She propped herself up on her elbow, voice lowering a fraction. “Just for me?”

He sighed.

(But... his smile grew a tiny bit.)

“... yesterday, i threw chess pieces all over my brother’s head. you should’ve seen the rook on his face.”

...

That was actually kind of brilliant. She snickered- she’d been expecting something much, much lower in quality, and was pleasantly surprised.

“Do you know what chess pieces look at when they have private time?”

“hm?”

She winked exaggeratedly. “Pawn videos.”

... He rolled his eyelights, smile mirroring hers in its wideness nonetheless.

“I wish I could become a doctor.” Frisk dramatically placed her non-propping hand on her chest, as if delivering an emotional soliloquy, enjoying the fact that she was melting him. “Alas, I must become a chess champion- for I have an incredibly chequered past.”

“so awful it’s on par with my usual jokes.” He snickered. “you’re lucky pap isn’t here.”

“Hey. What’s the most costly chess move?”

“that’d be the check, of course.”

“... Do you know any chess pickup lines? I can’t say I have any.” She said, coquettishly, leaning in closer to him- he didn’t reciprocate much, just turning to look at her a little more.

“dunno if it’s appropriate. also don’t know if i’m your type.”

That made her giggle. 

“... Well. Y’know what my type is...?”

“hmm?” He cocked his head.

“People who’ll actually play me at chess.”

...

His face... 

... Fell.

...

“do you ever quit?” He said, more akin to a snap than just a normal question. 

In quite literally an instant it completely shattered the aura the two had created. The sudden transition and frustration in his voice caught her totally off guard- she blinked, taking her head off her hand and sitting upright, losing all the closeness she’d gained from leaning in.

“Wh...”

“i’m not going to play with you. get over it.” His eyelights had gone whip-thin, and... oddly icy. “stop bugging me all the damn time and get something better to do. it’s not going to happen. just get back to ‘practising’ so you can run off and get beaten by undyne.”

...

What the hell?

...

A tense silence stretched between the two of them that got progressively more and more uncomfortable.

...

Frisk turned away from him in a manner that, from anyone else, would’ve been a resignation- but from her felt more like a jab right back at him- a ‘I’m not going to deal with this shit’ declaration with nothing but her face. She wasted no time moving herself off the couch, picking up the chess board carelessly to settle down at the table instead, across the room and by herself.

Several pieces rattled and fell over on both sides when she put the board down on the table. But she didn’t care.

...

“... uh... hey. wait.”

The wind was out of his sails- his tone had lost literally all of its previous bite. But she didn’t look at him, her brow furrowed and jaw set, far less willing to drop it than he apparently was.

“... frisk.”

...

Okay, fine. Whatever. She graced him with an upset glance- her posture was defensive, usually warm and amicable (either that or ruthlessly determined) expression twisted into something pretty unpleasant.

She just... didn’t get why he’d suddenly bitten like that. He had yet to seem upset at all by her asking him about chess, the worst he’d looked was entertained, and he could’ve just... told her if she was bugging him, right? Instead of lashing out like that with no warning when she thought they were having fun.

...

... He was sat totally upright, looking at her, leaning against the arm of the sofa like he wanted to push through it.

“... i’m... i’m sorry.” His eyelights were tiny, smile low. “i didn’t mean that. i just got mad.”

...

Frisk turned back to the board, righting the black king. “Okay.”

She didn’t see his cringe. 

“... you’ll beat undyne. i’m sure. you’re even more determined than she is, which is saying something.”

“... Mhm.”

Both of them could tell she didn’t think his second, meeker statement was the one he really meant. And he didn’t like that at all. “i mean it,” he insisted, louder.

Shuffling sounds- she wasn’t fully paying attention to him, moving some other pieces back into their proper positions, making sure the knights were facing forward. 

“... I know you do, Sans. Thank you.” 

She didn’t believe him. But he seemed oddly insistent on getting her to say he did... so she’d just agree, and they could drop it.

...

“you asked about chess pickup lines, right?” 

His voice was a lot closer than she expected it to be, and it almost made her jump- she narrowly avoided flinging the bishop she was holding when she turned to find him separated from her only by a chair. How the... how did he move so silently? He was righting the black queen, for her.

“... Uh...” She mumbled. He wasn’t the only one who’d had the wind taken out of his sails- she suddenly couldn’t find it in her to make a joke. “... Yeah.”

“would it be inappropriate of me...” He held up his hand, a familiar white piece between his index phalange and his thumb. “to call you good-rooking?”

...

...

Frisk couldn’t help it. She snorted, at that- it was so dumb... the perfect kind of joke to alleviate a mood. The small ungainly sound seemed to have a positive impact on him- his shoulders unwound, smile lifting at the corners just enough for the curve to seem genuine again.

“is that a king in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

Her snort became a proper giggle, which he apparently liked even more. Okay. I know I’m supposed to be mad, but this is too good to pass up. “I-I dunno. Looks more like a pawn to me.”

“... wow. i’m... wounded.” 

His eyelights were larger, softer... his body language had opened like a book. She looked up into his sockets, posture loosening too, unconsciously mirroring him until she’d gone from clenching her arms to only holding her wrist. “Sure you are.”

...

Both of them seemed to realise, at the same time, just how close their faces were. 

Frisk turned away first, her cheeks suddenly tingling and pleasantly warm- she pursed her lips and finished resetting the chessboard. Today was already proving to be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Sans’ face was also gently coloured, a small dust of blue making an appearance on his cheekbones... but he didn’t turn away.

“... c’mon, let’s just watch some tv or something. i’ve said ‘chess’ and ‘rook’ so many times i’m starting to forget what they mean.”

“... Pft... okay. ... Sure.”

#commissions #llama writes #frans #dude i just LOVE the fuckin aesthetic of this au!! #the outfits are all so.. hgngn #nothing i love more than the local asshole going '... fuck. wait. oh no. babe dont go-' #THANK YOU SO MUCH VENE THIS WAS SO FUN #i actually had to look up.... chess stuff #what the frick

[themaybewoman]

Ted Lasso has ADHD

He’s just super well-adjusted to it and has had lots of support through his life in this particular area. In all honest, he’s like ADHD goals; someone who’s comfortable and accepting of himself and his neurology.

This is so not a scientific analysis. Just a nerd looking for solace in yet another fictional character. ;)

Five reasons why I firmly see Ted Lasso as an ADHD character:

1.) Pasta Water.

Right off the bat, here’s what started this whole internal discussion: pasta water on the stove. As well-adjusted as he seems in day-to-day appearances, little details slip his mind. Forgetfulness is one of the more obvious traits of ADHD. In 1.09 when Ted and Roy Kent are having a heart to heart about Roy’s future on the team, the scene starts off with Ted trying to offer Kent something to eat/drink like any good host, and he makes a joke about offering the pot of pasta water that’s been sitting on his stove for two days. Kind of odd to have that sitting out, right? Not for a neurodivergent, though. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve baked cookies and then left all the materials scattered about on the stove and counters overnight, and then just didn’t have the energy or mindfulness to clean it up until someone got on my case for leaving a mess.  Our minds are just on a higher plane; we prioritise differently. Ted’s not at all concerned with the material. It’s the heart and soul that gives things meaning and thus gives him muse to pursue something, and frankly, cooking and cleaning up doesn’t give him that joy.

2.) Reminders.

He has little signs that say ‘believe’ tacked up all around his house, and in the same episode that’s mentioned (1.10 if I remember correctly – when he, Nathan, and Beard are discussing tactics for the game against Manchester), there’s also a fleeting mention of having a reminder to floss (that he also states to ignore due to exhaustion). I constantly have to write things down; anything that pops into my head, I put it on a flashcard and pin it to the wall, because even if it’s something I believe in, it might leave in the next few seconds so if I want it done/ingrained in my head, I have to have it somewhere outside my head. It’s because of our absolutely shot executive function – doesn’t really work too well – that leads us around our day in a spiral, constantly finding something different/a new angle or another story off our previous story that leads us astray. We get acquainted with backpedalling, mainly from other people (or ourselves) who keep telling us: hey, you were about to tell me something? I don’t have all day. Or something similar.

3.) Mentality.

It’s obvious that Ted’s thought process is miles away from the people he’s surrounded by, and the more people try to drag him back to his way, the more firm he gets. (The only person who I’ve noticed doesn’t try to sway his mentality is Keeley, they actually vibe really well together, right off the bat, which is funny because I see a little adhd-coding in her as well.) In my experience, the more someone tells me to see a different side/do something else, the more I want to keep doing what I want to do/keep believing in my way. (It’s only recently that I discovered this was a trait shared among many with ADHD; I thought it was just me being a dick to be honest XD.) I work so well with opposition. Losing that feels a bit like losing a purpose. It’s just so lucky that Ted’s way of staying true is optimism, because there’s a lot of rampant pessimism everywhere you go, so he never truly lives without his purpose. Breaking away from this core is painful, too, and we see him refuse to do just that literally every episode.

4.) More Reasons for Optimism.

Here’s another reason for optimism: RSD. We all know that positive thinking is the first line of defense against negative thinking, and you’re thinking duh right now, I can feel it. ;D That just helps me warm up to what I’m really trying to say which is about RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, a way to describe a symptom of ADHd. Now, at first, I didn’t see much evidence for this. RSD is what makes it very hard for us to bear criticism, and from what I see of Ted, he manages to handle criticism pretty well, he’s pretty civil about it, always taking it with a smile. And typically, people with this dysphoria don’t handle rejection or perceived rejection too well. Then, I realised that Ted’s intense optimism acts as a coping mechanism against this. If something is hard to hear, if criticism pulls him down to the depths, he forces himself to bounce back up because, in all honesty, everything starts with a smile, and after you start that (starting is the hardest thing), picking yourself up becomes slightly easier. He’s clearly had a lot of support in this area, not to mention a lot of his rambles almost sound like he’s searching for support – for validation – too. He latches onto people easily because of this, because external validation is such a powerful force. (The same goes for the lack of that, powerful in the opposite effect.) He knows this well, which is why he tries to be such a strong force of support for others. I can see this as being a contributing factor to why his divorce lead to an alarming/seemingly uncharacteristic bitter outburst and a severe panic attack – although that could also be because he spent so much of his life/devotion loving his wife and raising a family, that anyone forced into the situation wouldn’t have fared much better. In my experience, living with RSD has shaped me into a selfless person, ceaseless supporter, and postive-thinker, because I don’t want the people around me to feel as lonely and rejected as perceived criticism and the like leaves me. It doesn’t even matter whether I like them or not, I always end up feeling nauseated if something I say leads to even slight aggravation. (That’s something I’m working to address, as not everything I say or do will lead to people hating me, but it’s such a big motivator in my life.)

5.) The peanut butter jar.

This is a clever hack to combat the munchies. My ADHD leaves me hungry all of the time, but it’s a hunger that’s all in the head. Eating gives me stimulation to stay focused on whatever I’m doing, which isn’t always the healthiest (I like eating crunchy and/or salty things especially, as savoury keeps him going for longer). Leaving an open peanut butter jar on the table is honestly a clever hack. Peanut Butter isn’t the worst food to snack on, especially if it’s all natural/doesn’t contain processed sugars (those do not work well for our brains). It’s sweet but a little salty, and it’s a protein, meaning a little goes a long way in making us feel full. I know I don’t like to eat too much peanut butter, because then it starts to make me feel a little stuffed (not sick per se, just uncomfortable). Swinging by every so often to eat a bit of peanut butter is the perfect lil boost of dopamine, doesn’t over stuff, and the movement to get there is also refreshing. (I think I’m actually going to try this out for myself!)

There may be more, but alas, I’ve uncovered all the major signs that have been rattling around in my head since my first rewatch of this incredible show. XD!

tl;dr –

#ted lasso #adhd #adhd in characters #charactisation #memes #ted lasso has adhd #projecting #lilly's musings #lilly's analysis #favourite characters

[drabblingdraco]

✬Arranged✬ Draco Malfoy X Reader (Request)

This is a request I received!

"Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they're constantly at each other's thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other's company... idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don't mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pureblood Slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that..."

I’ve read various imagines with a similar plot, but here’s my take on it! If you’d like a Part 2, let me know! I love this story line

Warning: swearing, slightly mean/bully Draco

Very long like 2k oops

Draco's POV:

I was awoken by the sound of Father walking in to my bedroom. He told me I needed to get up and ready for the day, as the (y/l/n)'s were coming. I ran my fingers through my hair, stressing over the fact I had to see (y/n) again. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She made me feel emotions I refused to let out. Although we were arranged to be married, I would never let her in my head. She wasn't getting anywhere near my vulnerability. I looked up at Father as he walked towards my bed, grabbing my chin.

"Son, you know how important this is. She's one of the only good pure bloods your age. Not to mention her great, great grandfather was the founder of Slytherin house. Don't fuck this up, Draco." He spat his last sentence before exiting.

I sighed, getting out of bed. My warm feet adjusted to the cold temperature of the wood floor. I went into my closet and picked out my usual attire: an emerald button up, black slacks and black laced dress shoes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair back to a suitable placement. After spritzing some cologne on my neck, I saw a silver town car pull up outside the window.

(y/n)'s POV:

As the car came to a stop, I sighed while slouching in my seat. I could see Draco peering out the window pane. I wasn't looking forward to spending another day at the Malfoy's, yet again. I've been coming to the Manor my whole life. I knew the Malfoy's like the back of my hand, except Draco. He repeatedly threw his aggression towards me. Every time we spoke, one of my flaws came up in conversation. He always pointed out the (y/birthmark) on my (y/body part).

"Out the car now darling, time to see your fiancé."

"Mother please stop calling him that."

"Why? He is your betrothed after all." She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. After all these years, I still can't imagine being married to that foul mouth. I wanted to marry someone I loved, like my parents. But all they cared about was the Malfoy’s and keeping their great image in the wizarding world.

I stepped out of the car and mother shouted at me from the other side. "Go ahead inside love, I'll meet you in there." She had a slight smirk across her lips. I was suspicious, but not enough to ask questions.

I make my way up the grand stairs, Narcissa waited for me in the doorway.

"Hello dear! Delighted to see you again." She gave me a hug and a peck on the head.

"Draco will be down in just a minute- DRACO!" She smiled. I internally groaned.

A figure came walking down the spiral staircase. His hair was placed just right, making his piercing grey eyes stand out. His sleeves were cuffed right above his wrists, the green really accentuated his skin tone. I quickly shook myself out of admiration coma.

"Draco." I said with a straight face.

"(y/n).." he replied.

"Draco, why don't you take her to the gardens while your father gets her trunks?"

"Trunks? What do you mean?"

Narcissa looked confuzzled. "Oh dear, don't know you? You're staying at the manor for a short while."

My eyes went wide, "What?"

"WHAT?!" Draco grasped the railing of the stairs, the veins on his hand popping out as he strained against the wood.

"Draco! Behave yourself," Narcissa gritted through her teeth, she turned to me smiling.

"I don't have any clothes," I stammered, trying to make up excuses to avoid my dreadful stay.

"Yes you do!" Mother said, walking through the door.

I turned to face her with stink eyes, "is there a reason you didn't tell me I had to stay here with this twat?!" I motioned to Draco.

"And you didn't tell me this bloody-" Draco shouted at Narcissa, but she quickly stopped him.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence between the four of us. 

"My love, it's time you got a taste of the married life," she grasped my shoulder shaking me subtly. "After all, you are older now and soon enough, you'll officially be husband and wife."

"But mother! I-"

"No buts! Now I really must be going. I have to meet your father at the council meeting, but enjoy yourself! I packed you enough clothes for a few weeks, so you're all set dear." She kissed me on the cheek as I stood there, dumbfounded.

"Goodbye darling!" She shouted as Lucious shut the door behind her, exiting the manor.

I turned around to face the two Malfoys that stood before me. How could she just dump me here? And for weeks?  It's bad enough she married me off before I could even breathe. There's no way I would be able to last that long here with Draco. I look at both him and Narcissa, he looked enraged and I couldn't blame him.

"Now take a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air." She stated as a command rather than a question.

We both looked at each other with disgust, but we followed her wishes and headed towards the courtyard. We walked in silence for quite awhile. It was a cumbersome stroll, he wouldn't look me in the eyes or even my direction. I shouldn't be surprised, he was always like this, but something was different. He seemed tense, like he was holding something back. I tried to enjoy myself as if he wasn't there, admiring the lilies and pansies scattered perfectly symmetrical. Unfortunately my eyes kept falling back on him. His tapered slacks rested right above his matte dress shoes. The way his shirt grasped his frame. I felt a chill going down my spine. I adjusted my cardigan, wrapping it tightly around my chest. For some reason this got his attention and he whipped his view towards me.

"Don't tell me you're cold?" He scoffed, scrunching his nose.

"Is there a problem with feeling normal human reactions?" I spat.

He laughed, "just find it rather odd you'd wear such a short skirt on a day like this."

I shook my head in anger. It was typical he pointed out something to do with my attire. "It's summer Malfoy..what, would you rather I wear jeans and sweat like a pig?" Looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at the hem of my skirt.

He ignored my words and continued to walk faster, heading back to the manor. I scoffed and continued at my pace, in no rush to go back inside with that jackoff.

I closed the door to the courtyard and locked it. My eyes traveled around the room, I remembered memories from my childhood, when Draco was actually pleasant towards me and didn't act like a dick. We used to play with fake wands and babble made up spells to each other. I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Narcissa approaching.

"Why don't you come have some tea? I just brewed a pot." I nodded and followed her to the dining room.

I sat down in one of the many chairs seated at the table. A minute later she came back with a kettle and two dark green teacups with silver snakes on them. Typical Slytherins, but I was one to talk. We chatted a bit about how I've been since we last saw one another, even though it was only a mere three weeks ago. Then we diverted to the subject of Hogwarts. She went on about Dumbledore and how Lucious couldn't stand him. At this point, who didn't know about his vendetta against him.

After a few hours of conversing, she said she was tired and was heading to bed.

"You'll stay in Draco's room this evening."

"Um, are you sure? Can't I stay in the guest room?"

"Oh..the guest room is being..remodeled at the moment. Draco knows of the arrangements. I assure you dear, don't worry about about a thing. Sweet dreams." And with that, she left me standing in the dining room.

I clenched my fist together, wanting nothing more than to obliviate myself and forget everything that was happening, but alas, I couldn't go through with it. Like the kind, forced houseguest I was, I took the teacups and kettle back into the kitchen to be cleaned when I ran into Dobby.

"Hello Dobby how are you?"

"Hello Miss (y/n), you're always so worried about Dobby, it warms my heart. Dobby's keeping his feet on the ground. Dobby keeps hearing things from Mr. Draco about you."

"I'm sorry but I thought I just heard you saying Draco's been talking about me.."

"Oh dear, Dobby has said too much! Bad Dobby." He reached for the teacup but I stopped him before he could.

"Don't hurt yourself, it'll only make me sad, and I know you hate to see me that way." I bat my lashes.

"Sorry Miss (y/n)..since I've already said too much...Mr. Draco talks about you nicely. He likes your (y/h/c) hair and the way your nose scrunches when you're laughing. Dobby hears him talk to Mr. Crabbe and Goyle about these things and much more.." He shyly looks away, looking up the stairs towards Draco's room.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell him. (y/n) keeps secrets Dobby tells her." I smiled at him.

"Thank you Miss, Dobby likes you much more than his masters."

"I like you more than them too." I gave him a peck on the head and went up the staircase.

I trailed down the hall towards his room. The halls were dimly lit by small candles on the walls, as well as moving paintings on the walls of their family tree. I arrived outside his bedroom, scared out of my mind to knock, but I brought myself to do so. Shortly after knocking, he opened the door to his bedroom. I stood there admiring his night clothes; a fitted white v-neck tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Are you just going to stand there like a git and gawk or come in?" He smirked.

"I- Uh- Coming in." I slipped past him and stood there, unsure of my next move.

"It's getting late," he shut the door behind him. "You should put on some more comfortable clothing to sleep in."

"Right..oh, my trunk is downstairs. I should go get-"

"It's right here," he pointed towards it. "I brought it up a little bit ago. Didn't want to risk you breaking a nail, I'd never hear the end of it."

I scoffed, walking towards my case. I unbuckled the clasps and opened it to find clothing that didn't belong to me, or so I thought."

I've bought you some more appropriate dressings for your stay with Draco. Enjoy them, I know he will too.

-Mother

I was taken aback by her note. It's like she's asking me to fuck him, and we're not even married yet. She's already desperate for grandchildren, I thought to myself. I rummaged through my new wardrobe and ogled in shock. Lingerie, bodycon dresses, even shorter skirts. Are mothers supposed to be like this?

I picked the least revealing item I could find to sleep in. It was a silk green nightgown with lace detailing on the chest, lingering a little too low on the chest for my liking..but it was the only thing that didn't expose my entire body. I grabbed my toiletry bag and my feet brought me to the bathroom. I peeled off my current attire and put on a new set of panties along with my nightgown. I brushed my hair up in a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Gathering my belongings, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Draco. Now he was the one gawking at me.

"I know I'm always being a dick but..you look dashing (y/n), really." He said shyly, looking down at his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Thanks..." I wasn't sure how to respond.

I put my dirty clothes and bag on top of my trunk. I scratched the side of my arm in nervousness, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements were going to work, although I had an idea. There was nothing else to sleep on besides Draco's bed. He stared at me with anticipation as if he was waiting for me to join him.

I proceeded to the opposite side of the bed. I peeled back the sheets on my side, snaking my legs underneath. Draco still sat in his place, shifting a bit, but stayed in his current position. I laid down, facing his direction, closing my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, I'd eventually fall into a deep slumber without any further conversing with Draco.

I felt the sheets ruffle as he too laid down, I couldn't tell if he was facing my direction or not, but I ignored it. I adjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position. We both laid there, within the same vicinity, completely silent. After a few moments, I peaked my eyes open ever so slightly to find a pair of silver eyes looking deep into my soul. I shuttered, unaware of the fact he was staring at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?" I asked in confusion.

"Having the pleasure of looking at you," he licked his lips.

"I don't think I understand.."

"My god (y/n)...I never took you for dumb."

I raised an eyebrow, "how am I dumb?"

"Because you can't see it," he paused. "You can't see how madly I'm in love with you...and you can't tell me you don't feel the same." He reached for me chin, grasping it ever so slightly.

I didn't dislike his touch. His hands were ice, melting on my warm skin. His thumb caressed my jaw, heading towards my lips.

"I- I will admit..I do have f-feelings for you, I've been suppressing them..but you make it very convincing that you have a..distaste for me. Ever since we were young.."

"I don't think you understand the common thing about us males...we tease the ones we love," he chuckled.

Not knowing what the hell came over me, I forcibly grabbed his face and slammed my hungry lips onto his.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx 

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #imagine #fanfiction #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #reader #draco x reader #draco x your name #draco x female reader #slytherin #slytherin pureblood #pureblood #slytherin house #hogwarts #wizard #wizards #witches #witch #story line #romance

[rodeo-boots]

Idk who all you write for--but I see your requests are open, and I'd love some Hosea x reader (gender neutral or female) and maybe some nsfw? I'm open to anything, be it vanilla to kink--write what you want! Or, if you dont write hosea, maybe you could write some for Javier x reader? Anything at all 💙💙💙 I love your work!

I've written Hosea for the first time here, so hopefully I could do him justice. Thanks for the request, I hope you'll like the result!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2065

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"What are you reading there?" You stepped closer, your head tilted in curiosity, approaching Hosea where he sat at the table. It was still early morning, the chill not yet gone from the air, the rich scent of coffee spreading from Pearson's wagon.

"Oh, Good Morning." Hosea looked up at you, a kind smile shaping on his face as you placed a hand upon his shoulder to peer over it. "Actually, it's Notre-Dame de Paris, written by a French-man."

You quirked a brow, sitting down on the table-top in front of him. "Is it in French?"

A nod. Your curiosity spiked further.

"You can speak French?" Now, whatever sleepiness might've clouded your brain was gone for good, your stare trained on Hosea in expectancy of an answer.

The man chuckled, closing the book and putting it down on the table, almost sheepishly reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Well, you learn some things travelin' as much as we did," he explained, though it was clear that wouldn't diminish your amazement. As far as you knew, neither Dutch nor Arthur had picked up any foreign languages on their way here.

"I picked up some words here and there, and before I knew it, I got through an entire book of these funny words." He patted the novel upon the table, crossing his legs when he leaned back.

"You surprise me every day," you spoke, hearing him chuckle yet again, looking up to catch the subtle shake of his head. You risked a glance into the book, flipping through a couple of pages, though the words upon the paper made little sense to you. "Could you teach me?" You asked, finding his stare once more. "It looks like nonsense now, but it'd probably be fun... learning a new language."

His eyes grew gentle, Hosea placing his hand over yours to squeeze it. You've noticed before, how cold his palms used to feel these days, but he wouldn't take your concern. "Later, my dear," he promised you, running his thumb over your knuckles. "First, we got work to do." And with that, he nudged you in encouragement, pushing himself off the chair in the next moment to start into the day.

After fleeing from Blackwater as sudden as you had to, most of your and the other's belongings had to be left behind. You could only guess that most things you have once held dear were now in the hands of Pinkertons, possibly scattered all around your former campsite and destroyed. But there had been no time to grief before. And what mattered now was that you got back onto your legs, the entire gang left in disarray after your previous hopes had been shut down so swiftly.

You didn't hate working, had no problem putting in the extra effort to make this camp into as much of a home as could be. It was only a faint hope, staying here for longer than a couple weeks a time, but at the moment, it was what you had left to hold onto, and with Dutch's certainty about his plans, who were you to raise your voice?

The day drew to an end before you knew it, the hay bales you had moved to the horses for the evening barely visible to your eyes by now. With a soft exhale, you reached up to wipe sweat from your brow, glad that the cold couldn't bother you much with all the exercise you've done.

Footsteps behind you alerted you of someone's presence, your head turning in time to focus on Hosea. A smile shaped upon your lips.

You still remembered the promise he had spoken in the morning hours, certain that with the day now done, you had plenty of time for a good language lesson.

"Excusez-moj, chèrie," he spoke sweetly, guiding his arms around your waist from behind, not planning to startle you in the slightest. He smiled against your neck, holding you close and gentle, the little hairs standing at attention upon your skin. "I don't mean to keep you from your tasks," he added, still keeping his arms in place. Although clearly, you had no issue with that.

"I'm all done here," you answered, leaning back in his embrace, placing your own hands above his on your front. "But I don't know how much knowledge I can absorb just now." A soft laugh escaped your lips, head tilting to find Hosea's gaze briefly. "Today's work has worn me out, I must say."

He hummed lightly, thoughtfully. "Now, what could we do about that?" His words drove heat to your cheeks, the sound of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You knew what he was alluding to, always able to decipher when he got into this very special mood.

"I reckon you'd still like a lesson, n'est-ce pas?" A shiver ran down your spine, your throat suddenly feeling rather dry. You nodded either way, eager to see where he was planning to take this.

Hosea released you, casting a look over his shoulder in contemplation, aware that John had taken his guarding post not too far from your location. "Not here," he said, gently taking your arm to lead you back into camp, your brow quirking when he gestured for John's tent.

"What would he say to that?" You chuckled, entering it still. After all the years you've known Hosea, he's constantly shown himself as more adventurous than a glance at him might indicate, keeping you on your toes with everything he came up with. This site surely wasn't the most outlandish you've loved one another in.

"I've given it to him, so I can use it should the need arise," Hosea answered easily, closing the tent flaps behind you. "Besides, he won't ever have to know," the man added, cupping your cheeks in his hands to bring you close for a kiss, a sigh slipping past your lips at his passionate movements.

Everything happened in a blur after the initial touch of your lips, clothing falling to the floor as Hosea led you towards the bed, shedding the fabric upon his frame just as well. You plopped down on the cot with a shaky laugh, trying to catch his lips again, though he got to his knees in front of you instead, peering up at you with ardor glinting in his eyes.

"You gonna speak French between my legs?" You giggled, your voice playful and cocky. It seemed to pique his interest.

"If that is what you so desire," he answered, cold palms running up the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to spread them for him in the next moment.

You bit down on your lower lip, your eyes glued to your sweetheart upon his knees, hands slipping into his short hair. A warm gust of air was what you felt first, as he leaned down, teasing you by kissing a trail up your thigh, moving on to the other one whilst pointedly ignoring your aching middle. "Hosea," you couldn't keep yourself from whining, fingers tightening in his hair.

He shushed you softly, glancing up at your face for a second before returning to his ministrations, the muscles in your stomach rippling the closer he got to your core. "Please–" your voice cut off into a soft moan, the sound entirely satisfied with his lips finding their target, kissing right where you needed to be kissed. Your eyes fluttered shut on their own, laying back to let Hosea work his magic, the sounds from your lips turning higher and sweeter with every precise swirl of his tongue.

Hosea used his fingers with equal precision, gently working you open around him, poking and prodding at all the spots that heightened your pleasure.

Could you speak any French, you would've encouraged him in the language he's taught himself, but alas, all that left your mouth were coos and mewls. You were melting beneath him, certain that there was no way for you to endure much longer, the pleasure within your core becoming unbearable to handle. "Darling, I'm gonna--" you warned him, the sound of your voice met with the sensations stopping altogether, a groan rumbling through your chest in frustration.

As much as you didn't want this moment to come to an end, you've been close just now– impossibly so, throwing an arm over your eyes when Hosea crawled over you. The breath still rang shakily through your lungs, your eyes not yet meeting his when he kissed his way up your body, running his palms over your sides until your skin perked up with goosebumps.

"Ne désespère pas," he whispered, mouthing his way up to your ear for his words to resound through you, another soft whine leaving your lips. Hosea pushed the arm away from your eyes, kissing the back of your hand before he entangled his fingers with your own. "Hello there," he smiled at you, your eyes peeking open to return the gesture in kind.

"Are you ready for more?" He asked softly, caressing your cheek with his free hand, his stomach resting in between your legs, a shift of your hips enough to offer you some much needed friction.

"S-Sí." You had tried, at least, to show him that you knew some words yourself.

Hosea chuckled gently, his thumb running over your jaw. "That would be Spanish," he pointed out, though there was no mocking edge to his tone, a breathless laugh leaving your own lips at the realization.

He kissed you once more, squeezing your fingers before getting to his legs, pulling your hips to the edge of the cot. His eyes found yours when he pushed inside, his own lips parting at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

Your legs found their way around his hips, settling there as if it were the only place for them to be, your breaths rattling in your chest. Hosea gave you time to adjust, careful and considerate as always, reaching down between your legs to touch you softly, purposefully keeping his ministrations brief and teasing.

"If only you'd know how good you're feelin'," he muttered, looking down at you as if he beheld a masterpiece, though to him, that was just what you were. "My beautiful darling."

He started moving slowly, rolling his hips for his cock to move deeper into you, drawing back and letting you feel his entire length with the next thrust forward. You moaned, grasping for his hands again to link your fingers, needing something to hold onto when he quickened his pace.

Soon enough, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the tent, possibly filtering through the thin walls as well, though neither of you held much of a care for that. You rocked back against his every movement, getting lost in the ardor surrounding you as your nails dug into the back of his hand. "Hosea–" his name was a mantra upon your lips by now, repeated like a prayer, with every time sounding more desperate than the last.

You were getting close all over again, feeling your orgasm build in your loins, your spine curving in an attempt to receive more friction at your sex. "Please, make me cum." He had to be getting close himself, thrusts turning more hurried and sloppy, his own voice raising in clear enjoyment.

"Of course, my dear," he stuttered only the slightest bit, reaching down to pleasure you as you had wished, angling his hips just right to hit that sweet spot within you. "Go'head," he encouraged, continuously fucking into you as the motions of his hand quickened, intended to drive you over the edge and beyond.

"Je veux vous entendre," he grunted, the sound of his French sending you spiraling out of control, your walls pulsating around him as your orgasm hit you like a train.

You cried out in delight, tossing your head back as he spent himself inside of you, driven to fulfillment by the feeling of you coming around him. He panted, propping his arms up on either side of your head as the pleasant aftershocks raked his body, his cock sporadically twitching inside of you.

Eventually, Hosea pulled out of you, sinking onto the cot by your side, his chest rising and falling as he gradually caught his breath. "Now that wasn't what I had planned for today's lesson."

#hosea x reader #hosea matthews #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #nsft #rdr2 #my writing #requests

[aseioh]

The day the earth stood still pt.2/3

Author’s Notes: Striking a deal with an Eldritch being has never been so easy

 Bela was numb.

Kneeling by the foyer of the house, she stared at the crystal remains in front of her. The whole house was in disarray, dolls once lovingly caressed now lay broken on the floor. Angie, Donna's favorite doll and pseudo-self was missing as well. Bela wanted to stand and investigate to see what had happened to cause all this devastation, but the thought of leaving Donna alone even for a second grounds her in place.

'She was alone' Bela thought, she was alone even in death. Poor Donna Beneviento the mysterious doll maker, in life and in death alone in every sense.

"It must have been hard for you, you couldn't stop him. You must have known that you couldn't stop him, only stall. Stall for a little more time" Bela talks to the crystal remains. Standing up Bela walks around the first floor of the house, she sees the fresh blood smeared on the walls.

'there must have been a chase, Angie's favorite hide and seek' shattered dolls littered the floor, sewing materials scattered on the table, books toppled from their shelf.

Bela stops by the foot of the stairs and looks at the portrait of Donna.

---

  She remembers the time Donna came to the castle for the portrait commission, how she was fidgeting on her seat as her mother sketches. Donna was nervous even with her veil on her head, the fact that someone was looking at her so intensely was making her sweat.

 "Now, now Donna no need to be nervous. It's just us girls here." Alcina tries to calm the nervous woman. "Look even Angie is calm" pointing at the doll Donna is carrying.

 "Relax love, no one will see you here. Even then it's just Cassandra and Daniela, they'd like to see you and Angie later. Daniela will definitely want to play with Angie, and Cassandra would probably ask you about crochet patterns." Bela giggles at Donna's surprised look.

 "Yes Cassandra's trying to learn crochet, when she learned that it involves stabbing things to make something she got this grin and started asking for crochet hooks" Donna giggles the sound so soft that everyone in the room can't help but smile. Alcina gives her daughter a small smile, thankful that she has managed to ease the nervous woman.

 The rest of the day went by, with Cassandra and Daniela later stopping by to chat with the woman.

---

That portrait now hangs by the staircase the most prominent thing you first see inside the house. Donna's soft smile and Angie's grin captured perfectly on canvas. Bela was so lost by the portrait that she didn't hear the door open at first. Quickly sensing that something was different around her she swarms to Donna's side ready to kill anyone that dares disturb her lover's sleep.

Standing by the door is the last person she thought she would see.

"I see you've reunited with Lady Beneviento" The Duke stands by the foyer, leaning forward with the use of a silver walking stick a suitcase by his leg. The very fact that the portly man stands in front of her unnerves Bela, that and she realizes that The Duke towers over her although not as tall as her mother.

She immediately goes on a defensive, her body shielding Donna's crystal remains.

"What are you doing here. There's nothing for you to steal" Bela sounded furious how dare this man come here and barge into Donna's home. Readying her sickle she makes a move towards The Duke.

Sensing the tense atmosphere radiating from the young woman, The Duke lifts his hand in a stopping motion. "Before you continue in this destructive way, may I suggest you listen to my proposal first" The Duke enters the house and sits at the first available seat, Bela follows the man's movement never taking her eyes off him.

"Come and sit Miss Dimitrescu, I find it easier to bargain when both parties are sitting" Bela follows the man near the table but refuses to sit. "I'll stand thank you"

"Very well, now, about my proposal. I have been a proprietor of all kinds of wondrous items, and in my life I have accumulated fantastical and often occult objects that an average man would sell his soul to obtain-" at this The Duke looks at Donna's remains then looks at Bela letting the implication of his words sink in. "Objects that can curse its owner or grant wishes that beyond your wildest dreams."

"And I would like to extend my services to you, Miss Dimitrescu" The Duke finishes. Bela was quiet as she considers the man sitting in front of her.

Was this real? can she really bring Donna back to life. But as she hopes for the miracle presented to her another thought comes into mind.

"What's the price?" at that The Duke's smile broadens. "I always knew you were a smart one, Yes, as with all things in this world there will be a price to pay. Something of equal value for starters"

“Anything” Bela says without hesitation

“Ah but I haven’t even told you what the price is. Will you still be willing to exchange once you know?” The Duke prods Bela looking for any hesitation within the woman's feature and sensing none.

"Very well, I can help you revive Lady Beneviento but the price would be steep. Both of you will have to pay for it, for your part you will have to give up half of your life to sustain her. For Lady Beneviento she would have to give up her memories of you and any lingering feelings along with it. I would guarantee that she would have a new life away from here, a new start." The Duke ends laying down the terms of his proposal.

Bela listens to every word "And your telling me that what you've just proposed is an equal exchange?"

"I did say that it's just for starters, as you are in no position to give me anything of value, I do believe that I'm the one who can determine the terms and conditions of this bargain."

Bela considers the man's word and thinks of what her mother would have done. "If I do agree with what you said" she says carefully, "What proof do you have that Donna would be safe? Why are you helping me?"

"I'm just a humble merchant, I go where I'm needed, and I can't pass up on a good business deal." The Duke said with a sharp glint in his eyes. He almost seems inhuman. "And I can assure you, I don't renege on a deal. Lady Beneviento will be taken care of."

"And what if I want second opinion from mother?" Bela questions

"I'm afraid you can't do that. This deal is between you and me. The moment you walk out that door I will be gone and you're beloved will stay dead."

Bela steels herself and walks towards Donna's remain one more time. Kneeling down and gently placing her hands on the crystalized faced, Bela thought of happier times with her beloved. "I'll make this right Donna, No matter what happens I love you. I want you to find happiness, even if I'm not in the picture."

Standing up Bela faces the merchant. "I agree to your terms, but I want your word and proof that she will be taken care of. That you will bring her outside of this damned village and away from this madness. I want your word Duke."

The portly man stands up and walks towards Bela, extending his hands and offering to seal the deal with a handshake "Well then we have a deal."

Bela accepts the proffered hand and feels herself grow weak, a few more moments and the young woman faints her last thought of was of the smile of the mysterious doll maker.

The Duke nimbly catches the young woman before she hits the floor, surprising considering his rotund body. Carefully placing Bela on the floor, he moves towards his next client "Now Lady Beneviento, I will be taking the Cadou from you and there will still be minimal scaring. Hopefully with your new identity you will forget all the pain this village has caused you." He places a white circular object near Donna's torso near her heart. Like magic the crystalized remains of Donna began to form into her old body, checking if the woman is breathing, seeing as the woman looks to be asleep.

Moving towards the door The Duke retrieves Angie from a suitcase and gently placing the doll near Donna. Satisfied with his work, he moves towards Bela, scooping up the young woman he makes his way towards his carriage. Making his way towards the castle, he spots Lady Dimitrescu at the steps of the castle foyer. The Lady has recovered enough to be able to stand and wait for the return of her daughter.

"Good evening Lady Dimitrescu, I've brought your beloved daughter back. Do not worry she's merely tired, she'll awake in no time" The Duke greets the matriarch of the castle with his usual flair. For Alcina's part she eyes the man wearily sighing "You've done something to them haven't you? I will not ask the details as I know your ways merchant. I just want to know if my daughter will be safe."

"Do not worry madam, she will be fine, as well as the newly revived Lady Beneviento."

"So she did perish, alone. My poor Donna"

"I believe she tried her best to stop Mr. Winters, but alas, the man's willpower to get his daughter back is stronger than anything. I believe you also understand that"

"I do, my daughters are everything to me" Alcina said with a hard edge and finality in her voice.

The Duke carefully opens his carriage and retrieve the sleeping woman, gently giving her over to Alcina. Alcina brings Bela closer to her embrace to ward of the cold. As The Duke makes his way towards his carriage he turns to the Lady of the castle. "I shall now return to house Beneviento to retrieve Lady Beneviento and will get her to an associate of mine that would set up her new life. after that, I do believe we have our own deal to make."

"That we do" a thought crosses over Alcina "Why help us?"

The Duke considers, this wasn't the first time he heard that question and he deals the answers in half truths "There are forces in this world that exist that even science cannot explain, the old Gods have left but few remained and continue to slumber on. Some are sympathetic to human and would grant wishes when asked. I believe that is what happened with your Mother Miranda. My associates and I keep the balance in check." the surroundings behind The Duke starts to get fuzzy and dark, static sounds seem to come from everywhere. and as soon as it starts it ends everything comes back to normal and The Duke is back to his pleasant self. "I hope that answers your question, 'til we meet again my Lady"

Alcina understands that there are some things in the world that should be left alone, this is one of these. "Yes until later then. Thank you" Alcina makes her way back inside the house, nursing Bela near her breast. Cassandra and Daniela greets them by the door, concern in their face.

"Is Bella alright, Mother?" Daniela asked

"She'll be fine my dear, we all are. When this day ends everything will be made clear and the ashes of the damned will scatter in the winds" Alcina answers cryptically as the three women make their way further inside the castle.

Inside the carriage The Duke considers the days event, chuckling to himself 'and the Day isn't even finished yet. There are many more plans to move forward and a struggling parent to help'. His thoughts came to the lovers he just helped, the bargain was just he thought. He just hoped that he had a satisfied customer.

Smiling broadly he hums a long forgotten tune, his thoughts on the sleeping woman he brought back in the castle. If his predictions are right and if Miss Dimitrescu is as smart as he thought she is, then she would be able to find the loophole that was inadvertently placed.

Donna may have lost her memories of Bela as payment, but if they were meant to be together, then Bela can simply find her again.

Better send her an address then just in case. after all he wasn't one to just put everything in one basket, a little push on the right direction should be enough.

   Now dreams run wilds, as lovers find their way        Through the nights, not a care in the world        And over there, over the twinkling of the lights        Harbor lights, say goodnight one more time 

----

Notes: Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion tomorrow!

#resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #the duke #Beladonna #re8 village BelaDonna

[izzabeean]

Chapter 5 : Impulse

SUMMARY

You've learned something you wish you didn't about Ushijima and now you wish you could forget.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,836

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : What can I say, Y/N has a bit of a sweet tooth! I mean if I spent a day in the city you bet I would be eating a lot of food. Or is that just me? Anyway, I am happy with how this turned out! The next chapter is going to be so fun!

Will try to post every Thursday evening PST, if not latest by Friday.

Hope you're enjoying the series so far!

masterlist

<< prev |  ch . 5  | next >>

Today sucks. 

After last night, you didn’t think it could get any worse, but you were so wrong. The sliver of hope that today was going to be a bit better quickly vanished in a matter of seconds leaving your heart even more shattered than you thought was possible. 

So why? 

Why is it that you saw the person you’d love the most with a girl you’d never seen before? As much as you wish it weren’t so, the evidence is right in front of you no matter how many times you try to push the image away. 

Staring down at your soft serve ice cream, nearly melted, you let out a big sigh trying to repress the tears wanting to form. You wish your favorite flavor of frozen dessert could solve all your problems, alas, the rich creamy flavors only remind you of a date you had with Ushijima… 

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” you spout, arms linked with Ushijima marching your way to your favorite ice cream shop. It was this particular spot that made you realize Ushijima is more than what you’ve ever wanted in your life. You’d been dating for six months now, a new record in your love life, also a big surprise you haven’t tired him out with your nonsense.

Instead of arguing whether a cold dessert was an appropriate snack in the winter, he just let out a deep sigh in reply knowing you’re not going to be convinced otherwise. 

“Don’t give me that,” you holler, covering your face in your hands, refusing to look at Ushijima.

Gently, he grabs your hands pulling them away from your face giving you a little kiss on the cheek in apology for his teasing.

“Y/N.”

Oikawa’s voice pulls you out of your bitter memory back to sitting across from him at a cafe. Your heart drops, realizing that there will not be any more moments like that with Ushijima. Did everything always remind you of him this much?

“You’re ice cream,” Oikawa says, eyes locked on to the dessert dripping on your hand. 

Quickly you get up from the table grabbing some napkins to wipe up the mess you’ve made which resonates with you very well at this point. Not only are you emotionally a mess, apparently now you can’t even physically get a hold of yourself. Emotional pain is just temporary, yes, yet there’s this overwhelming feeling that makes you think your entire world is closing in on you.

In the process of cleaning up the sticky residue, you let out a growl noticing it’s dripped onto your palish pants producing a humiliating colored stain. You start pressing on the fabric in hopes your mishap would magically disappear… It doesn’t. 

Oikawa peers down at your pants attempting to conceal his chuckle with a titter.

“It’s not funny,” you rasp.

But Oikawa can’t stop himself from bursting into a loud guffaw resulting in a free-flowing of tears. 

Completely exasperated by the chaos, you throw out what’s left of your liquefied treat and sit back at the table covering your face with your hands. You didn’t feel in a rush to embarrass yourself more by strutting around the city with a large smudge of ice cream on your pants.

Once Oikawa gains his composure, he takes his jacket off and passes it to you across the table.

“You can hold this to cover it,” he offers.

The gesture feels loaded, like the true intent is much more devious than that, especially since he seemed to find it so amusing. There’s no way Oikawa could perform such gracious acts of kindness. 

“Take it,” he says. 

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” You reply, shoving the coat away with your hands. 

Oikawa shrugs, “I’ll be fine.”

Giving in to his persistency, you take the jacket. “Thank you,” you breathe.

You watch Oikawa straighten out his shirt and fix his hair as a couple of girls walk by giggling, smiling at him, one even gives a little wave. It puzzles you how Oikawa can be such a dreamboat, from your years of friendship, his reputation borderlines annoying and childish, but the little gestures he’s made today have really made you rethink; this was a side to Oikawa you’ve never seen before.

On your way back to the train station, you look out toward the horizon and see the sun setting; pinks and oranges fill the sky, and the sight before you is quite romantic. The scene itself ended up turning out to be soothing despite the alarming encounter from earlier.

Now your new reality is finally setting in where there’s no Ushijima.

“I don’t want to go home,” you utter.

Oikawa studies you with your head hanging low. The glow of the sun coats you in its gleaming rays, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things but he noticed the light capture a shimmer of a single tear tracking down your cheek. Then it finally resonates with him: you're not okay. 

“Wish I could get out of these pants though,” you laugh. Then just like that, you revert to a smile. 

“Let’s take you out,” Oikawa says.

“Out? Like to a club?” You didn’t fully expect any sort of resolution from Oikawa, your comment was meant to be rhetorical. 

“Yeah! You, me, and Iwa! We never go together and it will be good for you to go out to have some fun!”

“I don’t know about that,” you sigh.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, the look on his face is full of excitement basically begging you to say yes. He must know you’re feeling vulnerable because it doesn’t take a moment more of hesitation to.

------

When Oikawa said he was going to take you out, he really meant it. The nightclub is lavish as loud music pulses in your chest while crowds of people huddle around the bar and scatter across the dance floor. 

Oikawa could be considered an avid clubber, how could he not be when he is so popular with girls, and had always tried to convince you to join him. You never really have, but you’ve also never really had your heartbroken to this degree. 

“It’s about to get even more crowded,” Oikawa yells into your ear.

10:13 pm on a Saturday evening and it’s going to get busier? Oh god.

Crowds aren’t your thing. Clubs aren’t your thing. Drinking isn’t really your thing. What are you even doing here?

“Shots?” Oikawa suggests pointing to the bar.

Your stomach churns at the thought. Diving into the night with shots seems excessive; they always leave a bitter taste in your mouth and the strong smell makes you want to gag. You wanted a drink to ease you into the evening...

“6 shots of Jäger,” Oikawa orders. 

Maybe not so much tonight.

The bartender retrieves the alcohol and brings back six shot glasses, each filled to the rim of dark liquor. Holding the shot glass up to your face, the potent smell makes your nose scrunch. With a cheers, you throw back the alcohol and the sensation burns your throat; it’s awful. Knowing there’s a second shot waiting, you don't delay the inevitable.

“Someone’s eager,” Oikawa purrs watching you down the second shot. 

The corners of your mouth turn down as the hairs on your back stand up. You let out an ick and turn to Oikawa and Iwaizumi who are both in awe of your tenacity.  Truthfully, you were shocked too. Then all the tension in your body seems to disperse, from the day, from entering the nightclub. You finally feel relaxed.

“Am I going to be waiting for you all night? Or what?” You tease eyeing their untouched liquor. 

Both men look at each other and take the shot in one gulp. Calling over the bartender you order another round, this time they’re a lot easier to take.

“You’re really not playing around,” Iwaizumi teases, impressed that you’re able to down three shots in a matter of minutes upon entering the venue.

Shifting your gaze to Iwaizumi, he looks so hot in his black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. A warm feeling fills your chest, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol hazing your perception or you were genuinely starting to crush on him. 

Damn it, you think to yourself while your eyes continue to linger on him. 

Considering your current situation, the smart thing to do here would be to do nothing. On the other hand, you couldn’t help that your heart fluttered in Iwaizumi’s presence. Surely, he didn’t realize the meaning behind his words but it brought you lower into the sort of absolution that you were definitely forming a rebound crush on him. But you couldn’t let yourself. Of course, if you did, you were bound to hurt Iwaizumi and your friendship with Oikawa. You had to stop yourself before it was too late.

Oikawa’s eyes fall onto you, noticing your ogling. You seem to illuminate with this glow he hasn’t seen all day and for a split second, he is fueled with irritation at the sight. But catches his outward anger and pushes it down, gaining composure. 

------

Keeping up with Oikawa for most of the night was a bad idea. Certainly, it didn’t occur to you until you stumble into the bathroom all by yourself, realizing you were most definitely unable to stand straight without help. 

Check yourself out in the mirror, you pull out your phone to take a raunchy selfie. You smirk at yourself checking the photo before posting it to your social media story.

That will show him, you think, hopeful Ushijima will see the image you’ve posted. He’s not the only one who can have fun.

Before even pressing “post” you get a text from Oikawa asking where you are. You giggle as you type come find me and press send with the intention of finding him first.

As you leave the bathroom, you begin to scan the crowd for Oikawa or Iwaizumi trying to recollect where you last saw them. The crowds of people in the vicinity make it practically impossible and the further you walk into the nightclub, the louder the music gets, the brighter the lights are, the warmer your body feels. 

All you wanted to do was get out.

Stepping outside, there’s this instant relief from the crisp evening air although it doesn’t last long, and soon a violent shiver courses through you. Turning around to go back inside the bouncer stops you then points to what seems like an endless line of people. 

“B-but, I-I just need to get my jacket,” you stammer.

“Sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to wait in line,” he booms.

Your outward calmness cracks, too anxious to even think up an excuse. You needed to find Oikawa or Iwaizumi and you need to find them now! 

You turn your attention back to your phone as you begin to type out a text to come meet you outside the club.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” a raspy voice calls out.

You look up and see a rough-looking guy in line making intense eye contact with you. Normally you don’t judge, but your drunk bordering wasted self notes this man was very sketchy and it’s best to avoid him. So you turn your back to him and call Oikawa instead.

“Hey don’t ignore me,” he yells.

You start walking in the opposite direction from the line as far away from the stranger as possible. You’re a bit worried he can still see you and slip into an alley beside the nightclub, the phone still ringing on the other end. 

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!!” You mutter into the receiver. Oikawa doesn’t, so you try again.

“I don’t like being ignored, sweet cheeks.” The same raspy voice makes you jump as you turn around to see the scraggly man backlit by fluorescent streetlights, only making his appearance more menacing. 

The call goes to Oikawa’s voicemail again.

“Guess your friend ditched ya,” he continued walking closer to you. The statement sobers you up as his aura escalates to a more threatening demeanor. 

“They said they’ll just be out,” you squeal.

“Yeah?” The stranger keeps shortening the distance every step. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He’s so close now that you can smell his disgusting breath and you start to panic. “I-I can’t, I’m waiting for someone, th-thank you though.”

Why the fuck did you say thank you? Your brain screams at you.

“Oh come on sweet cheeks,” he coaxes, reaching out to clasp on to your wrist. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your body freezes at his touch. It stings as a sharp pain from his grip makes you want to scream or cry, but the shock was melting your ability to. You felt so useless and timid in times of distress. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t escape searing clutches of--

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice thunders.

The stranger turns to see the culprit and you slowly glance to see Iwaizumi with an intimidating aura protruding from him. 

“Just having a nice talk,” the stranger purrs, tightening his grip more and you let out a little yelp.

“Is that what this is? She looks pretty scared to me,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“This’ none of your business kid,” the stranger rages.

“Actually it is,” he demands stepping closer. “Let go of her.”

A vein on Iwaizumi’s neck pops out as his hands start to ball into fists. Now the stranger is intensely regretting his choice and you can sense it from the fact he’s visibly shaking. You are nearly on the verge of tears from the pain in your wrist and wonder if he was going to break it.

“Let go,” Iwaizumi orders again.

And this time he does, the man, nothing but a weak buffoon, frees your wrist and walks off in a trudge.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi walks over to you to take a look at your wrist. 

You nod, letting out a deep exhale trying to hide how petrified you were while holding your wrist.

“Does it hurt,” he asks, gently applying pressure to it. “Let me take a look.”

Initially, you flinch at his touch, afraid the searing pain will return, instead, his fingertips lightly trace your wrist while analyzing it thoroughly.

“Let me take you to a hospital to be sure.”

“No, no,” you breathe, locking eyes with him. “I’m fine, just a little sore.

Iwaizumi’s face flickers with a bit of uncertainty but decides not to push it and lets go of your wrist to take out a cigarette.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You felt like an idiot for going off on your own, for drinking this much, for going out at all. “I’m sorry.”

Deeply inhaling the smoke, he turns to you, “For what?”

“For running off by myself, and you totally just saving my ass. It’s just… pathetic,” you exclaim, reverting eye contact with him-- you’re slightly embarrassed and his silence is only telling, considering you barely know each other. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.” 

“It’s not pathetic,” he states, shrugging his shoulders. “Oikawa says you’re dealing with shit.”

Your reaction isn’t short of an embarrassment. His words hurt you as the scenario of Oikawa telling Iwaizumi about your break-up fills your mind. You scoff. “I’m fine!”

“You’re a horrible liar.” Iwaizumi didn’t have a problem calling you out as you stared at him after a few moments of silence. 

“So what am I supposed to tell him?” you mutter, this surge of anger sweeps over you, you feel this swell of rage boiling inside. “That it’s ok to see my ex, not even a day broken-up with a new girl? It’s fucking bullshit!”

He turns to look at you and blinks at your reaction. The sudden unexpected word vomit makes you pause. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” you whisper. “It’s just weird, you know, all of it. I didn’t expect to be blindsided like that. It’s just…” You look over to Iwaizumi listening intently to you and feel your face grow hot. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! You never asked.”

It’s awkward and quiet, you’re pretty sure Iwaizumi can feel it too. You’re puzzled with what to say and feel pressured to express a less depressing answer. You didn’t want to drop the mood of the evening. In those moments, it became apparent you needed to sober up.

“Can I have one?” you ask. 

He looks at you with wide eyes, “You smoke?”

You take out your lighter that you have stowed away in your purse flaunting it as evidence of your new bad habit. Iwaizumi tosses you the pack of smokes.

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” You’re trying to sound like you’re joking but a hint of worry seeps through and you’re left waiting for a serious response from him.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

#creepypasta #🔊 #slenderman #masky #masky creepypasta #creepypasta masky #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer creepypasta #Jeff the killer #📩 #toby cp #toby creepypasta #ticci toby #ticcy toby #Jane the killer #jane the killer creepypasta #eyeless jack cp #eyeless jack headcanon

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

New Dawn Fades — Literary References Analysis Part 4: The Id, the Ego, the Superego

Cyberpunk Spoiler Warning 

Here’s part four of me going through all the endings and looking for the literary references in each of the endings, which I believe allude to what happens to V/Johnny, possibly in future DLC. If you haven’t read my other posts, you should read them here (Johnny’s Mikoshi poem, V’s Mikoshi Poem, The Star ending) first since we’re gonna loop back to them later.

New Dawn Fades was such a pain in the ass; because Johnny is such an art hoe, I found three different poems/stories scattered around. Not only that, but two of them are translated from Polish, and one of them us from Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. I studied English literature so…forgive me if this is super surface-level. Also, stuff gets lost in translation, so the original meaning sometimes gets lost. If Polish literature is anyones niche, please teach me a thing two, but all I can do now is my best! But from what I could tell, damn…paints a pretty depressing picture. Let’s start with the two Polish writers first:

Bolesław Leśmian, "Why so many candles...”

Why so many candles, these faces above me?

No more harm shall ever meet my body.

Everyone is standing - while here alone I lie -

Grieving, feigning. One must be true when one must die.

And so, buried under these wreathes of leaves, I lie -

Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.

Death, gone silent, once again rushes to my head,

Though by now I know all my comprehension is dead.

How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.

This one is…yikes. Depressing. As I talked about in previous posts, V’s poem is more pessimistic: nothing we do matters, we’re all just dust in the wind, you know, the good stuff. Johnny’s poem has a very different stance; art makes us immortal, and we can change the world, etc. With this…Johnny seems to have given his larger-than-life attitude up in favor of V’s resignation that life sucks. Much like Prufrock in V’s poem, Johnny is lying “Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.” Almost as if he didn’t want V’s body, not as a selfless gesture…but because he has grown accustom to his previous form. In Johnny’s version of Alt’s poem, it almost seems as if he embraces being a construct — the form of immortality it, and his legacy, grants him (remember all that hokey about being a golden bird to sing his message to the youth?). Blackwall was a kind of death Johnny knew — yet now:

“How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.”

Interesting. We never find out where Johnny is going when he leaves Night City, but it makes me wonder. Is he truly starting anew? Or hoping to fix what went wrong?

In the next room, we find another poem, this one an excerpt from Labyrinth by Wisława Szymborska:

So this way or that,

Or no, the other,

By ear or by your gut,

By your wits or by shortcut,

By any means necessary,

Cutting crooked corners.

Past whatever row in a row

Of corridors and gates,

Quickly, in the meantime

Your time grows short,

From one place to another

To one of many still open,

Of darkness and plight

But also delight, held just ajar,

Where there's joy, though sorrow

Lies well-nigh nearby,

And elsewhere, somewhere,

Wheresoever and whereabout,

Fortune in misfortune

Like a parenthetical parenthesis

Acceptance of it all

And suddenly - a fall

I’m a little shaky on the meaning behind this one. My immediate response is to compare it to the poem found in The Star — which contains a piece from The Marriage Between Heaven and Hell by William Blake. The overarching use of this poem, by my interpretation, is an explanation for what the Blackwall is: hell. But not hell how most would perceive it. In fact, according to Blake, hell isn’t so bad. Our views of heaven and hell, good and evil, are wrong. Everyone contains both good and bad within them, and neither is wrong, simply two opposites; between conformity and rebellion, art and obedience. If we were to look at it this way, V would most likely belong in “Heaven,” the world of the obedient, those who play by the worlds rules (at least, in the beginning of the story, before Johnny influences them toward the rebel path), while Johnny represents “Evil,” and would belong to Hell. In some dialogue choices, Johnny will even state that he no longer believes he is a human, and is in fact code, no longer belonging in the world of the living. In this scenario, both have found themselves where they don’t belong. Not only that — but one is supposed to be a healthy mix of so-called “Good” and “Evil.” The “Soul,” and “Body,” are one, not meant to be separated. Uh oh. The tone of this poem in Johnny’s context just seems so…lost, to me. Someone who found their other half, their perfect foil, a soul and body as one…and now it’s gone. What does one do after such a loss?

And finally, the most grim of the three stories: Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. Specifically, Book III, Narcissus and Echo. This one most likely has the greatest significance; not only is it a shard you can pick up, but an open copy of the book can be found in Johnny’s hotel room, drawing further attention to it. 

If you haven’t read it, let me give you a quick and dirty summary:

At the beginning of the story, Narcissus’ mother, Liriope, asks the prophet Tiresias if her son will live to see old age, which he replies “only if he does not know himself.” One day when Narcissus is 16, he is out hunting when he finds a mountain Nymph named Echo. Echo, as one might guess, was cursed by Hera and can only repeat what is said back to her. You know. Like an echo. Echo falls in love with Narcissus at first sight and follows him throughout the forest, waiting for him to speak so she can communicate with him. Narcissus eventually gets separated from his hunting group, and calls out for them, which Echo…well, echos. Eventually Echo reveals herself and Narcissus freaks out, telling her basically he’d rather die than be with her. She hides in a cave and pines until she whithers away from hunger, and only her voice remains.

Many other nymphs fall for Narcissus because apparently he’s a straight up snack, but he rejects all of them. Apparently someone gets so salty about it, they summon the Goddess of Vengeance to do something about it. She leads him to a crystal clear pool, in which he is able to see his reflection. Remember the thing about knowing oneself? Yeah…At first, Narcissus thinks the reflection is a different person and falls in love. He smiles, the reflection smiles, so it must like him back, right? Eventually he reaches to touch it, and realizes that it’s him. He freaks out, and much like Echo, stays by his reflections side until he withers away. Having a total meltdown, he cries out “Alas!” which is echoed, by well, Echo. Her voice lived on, and she watches him die as he calls “Farewell, dear boy. Beloved in vain.” Once again, Echo repeats this. Narcissus dies and all the thirsty hoes make a pyre to burn him, but when they go looking for him they find the Narcissus (flower) instead (nooo...dont transform into a flower, you’re so sexy ahaha). 

So what does this mean for Johnny/V? Well, two main things pop out to me: transformation, and reflections. Much like Echo and Narcissus are reflections of each other, V and Johnny reflect each other. As @ellitira pointed out in my analysis of the Star, V and Johnny constantly reflect each other. One of the most obvious ways is their literal reflection; if you look in a mirror during a relic malfunction, you’ll see Johnny, not V. But scenes are reflected as well; the first and last time V meets Johnny, they grab him by the shoulder from behind to get his attention as he turn to face them. The first time Johnny and V have a civil conversation, they’re sitting at a table in Tom’s Diner, Johnny’s foot on the table. This mimics their conversation in Mikoshi with Alt. Their conversation about taking a bullet for one another in the Pista Sofia where Johnny is sitting backwards on a chair while V is on the ground is also repeated moments later, as Johnny and V have their final conversation about who will stay and who will go with Alt. Johnny also mentions that he spent his first few weeks in NC laying in bed, staring at the ceiling fan. When he awakens in New Dawn Fades, what is he doing? Staring at the ceiling fan…in Pacifica, not far from the Pista Sofia. The boy who he gives the guitar to is even wearing V’s “favorite shirt”…the one we see them wearing in the first scene they’re introduced. There’s probably loads more, so feel free to share if you find any more. If you want to know more about why this is significant, make sure to read about V’s version of Alt’s poem. 

So why do these reflections/echos matter? Well, what does one do with a reflection? Reflect. Johnny begins to examine himself through V, and he begins to realize he doesn’t like what he sees. If V calls him the man who saved her life, he’ll respond with “you have no idea how badly I want that to be true.” He tries his best to right his wrong only after this conversation with V, not only in Burning Love and Chippin’ In, but in other ways too. For example, it’s Johnny’s idea to call V’s loved ones to say goodbye on the roof scene, because “he wished that he had had a chance to.” Because of V, he grows, changes, and becomes a better person, just as much if not more as he seems to change V. As he leaves V’s grave, he even states that he has changed; that he’s wiser now, and won’t make the same mistakes. He states he won’t dwell on what happened, but somehow I doubt that, considering everything above.

The other theme of Narcissus and Echo is of transformation; after all, metamorphosis actually means "to change or transform.” Echo becomes, well, and echo, and Narcissus becomes a flower. V and Johnny also transform; not only physically between engram and human, but they transform one another. Both of them fall in love, and neither will move on. Echo falls in love with Narcissus, and Narcissus falls in love with his reflection. Because they refuse to transform the way they feel, they must die and transform physically. So who represents who in this scenario? In a way, Johnny is both. Johnny is a bit, well, narcissistic. He’s self-absorbed in his flashbacks, and adored by countless fans, yet ignores them in favor of his own company. He thinks everything is about him (Alt’s death, Samurai, etc.)  and is willing to die for his beliefs. He is also constantly reflecting on himself through V. However, what really kills him is losing Alt; she tells him not to follow her (much like Narcissus tells Echo to leave him alone). He does anyway, and avenging her leads to his demise.

What’s especially sad about this is the way Johnny views transformation; he is very concerned with the idea of one’s individual identity, and hates the idea of turning into something you’re not. He despises that he’s going to turn V into himself by force. He hates dolls because he sees their behavior chip as something that changes them into something they’re not. He’s scared of V going to Blackwall not because it’s death, but because they “won’t be the same.” I don’t think Johnny ever wanted V’s body; again, not as a courtesy, but because it’s not him. After all, he could have just let nature take its course and let himself re-write their psyche, but instead he actively tries to save them as best he can. If V chooses to let him have their body, he hardly seems happy about it; especially compared to how happy he seems to see that part of him will live on in the way V refuses to give up should they choose to live on. By taking V’s body, he is no longer himself; rebel, rocker-boy, legend, and the guy who promised to save V’s life. Johnny in A New Dawn has lost his entire sense of self, his entire new and improved identity; one that learned from his mistakes and became a better person because of V. Johnny has The Tower tattooed on his arm, the card of (often painful) transformation and change. Yet this is what Johnny is most afraid of; not death, or even the not-so-bad sort-of hell that is Blackwall. He’s afraid of losing himself, and by losing V, he has lost a part of himself. The part of himself that was supposed to be a better person; who was supposed to save V’s life.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk 2077 v #cyberpunk spoilers #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #new dawn fades #my posts