#‘HEY ACHILLES NICE WORK WITH THE HEEL!’
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Playboy || PG10 {2}
Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Your date takes a turn when you are recognised by a Street King. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal racing, bad language, blood WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three
The week had seemed unnecessarily long but you weren’t going to admit it was because you were almost excited for Friday to arrive. It wasn’t like you to be the optimist, at least not since the break up, but you were quietly hoping Pierre could keep his word.
Work had been busy, as it always was on a Friday afternoon, but you battled through the exhaustion to finish your jobs and get home to shower and change into something nicer. With the weekend races kicking off at sundown, every driver wanted to make sure their car was running at its optimum, which meant a busy day for you. It didn’t seem to bother Pierre that dinner would be a late affair, in fact, not a lot seemed to bother him at all.
It was a refreshing change from the overbearing nature of Leo.
Your doorbell rang right on time and you laughed to yourself as you rushed to finish pulling on your boots, you clearly weren’t used to a man who showed up on time.
“Just a sec,” you called out as you grabbed your clutch, shoving your phone and wallet inside. You nearly forgot your keys but swiped them up from the kitchen table before opening the door. “Hey.”
“Hi, Beautiful.” Pierre knew your name, you had saved it on his phone for your contact, but he enjoyed seeing you battle to keep a smile off your face everytime he called you beautiful. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. “How was your day?”
You drank in the sight of him and let your eyes linger on his features a moment longer. The dark sweater fitting snug to his body left nothing to the imagination and from the tapered narrowing of his waist you knew there would be deep v lines cutting between his hips. That was your achilles heel when it came to men, and if they knew how to handle a fast car as well as an independent woman.
It looked like he was going to be a triple threat.
“Long,” you finally answered as you stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind you. “I have earned a stiff drink.”
He grinned as he held open the building’s front door for you and you saw the candy red Ferrari parked on the street.
“Now you’re just showing off,” you whispered in awe as you traced the sleek curves of the 812 Superfast with your eyes. “She’s a thing of beauty.”
“That she is,” he said with a smirk as he watched you almost salivate over his car. “The car is pretty nice too.”
“Very slick.”
He laughed at the roll of your eyes because you weren’t quite able to hide your smile that started to grow. “Here, I’m a much prettier face for the passenger seat,” he said as he took your hand and slipped you the key.
“Seriously?” Your heart thundered at the thought of driving the powerful car and you skipped across the pavement before he could change his mind, sliding into the leather seat with a moan. “Oh my god, I’m in love.”
You could feel his eyes watching you stroke the steering wheel and his deep chuckle of amusement rolled over your skin. “I could get used to this,” he said as he buckled in. “There hasn’t been a single insult thrown at me.”
“Yet,” you reminded him as you hit the start button and felt the V12 engine come alive. “Fuck me, that is an eargasm.”
“I would have thought you got to drive nice cars all the time, considering…”
“I work with them? I only get to drive them between the parking lot and the garage. If I’m lucky the dyno’s in use and I can do a road test.”
Pierre turned down the music that started while you put the car into drive. “I kind of meant your ex.”
“Oh,” you sighed. You found it was easier to talk about while you were driving, if you weren’t distracted by the car you would have just told him to shut up. There was something about most of your concentration being on the road that you forget the emotions attached to the conversation. “Girls aren't allowed to drive with the Kings. We can build the cars and fix them but not race. They, sorry. They can build them.”
“Sounds stupid to me.”
The city of Monte-Carlo really came to life at night as the colourful lights bars and clubs bled over to the superyachts illuminating the waterfront. Everywhere you looked along the street there were cars that rivalled Pierre’s, but they were driven by ancient looking men who could never appreciate the speeds the car could go without risking a broken hip.
“Where am I going?” you asked as you pulled up to a crossroads and came to a stop. The main drinking scene was one way, restaurants the other.
“Depends on how hungry you are,” he said as he cast a lazy smile your way. “Or, you can kidnap me and take me on a joy ride? At least that’s what I'll tell the police if you get pulled over.”
You revved the engine as you took off down the third road that led to the carriageway out of the city. “I’ve never been arrested before, it sounds fun.”
You couldn’t wait to reach the city limits but as you stopped at another intersection a blacked out Nissan GTR pulled up beside you. Pierre looked confused as someone tapped on his tinted window and he looked a little concerned when you put the window down for him.
“Thought it was you, QT,” Devante snickered as he looked past Pierre, not even sparing him a glance. “Haven’t you learned your place yet? Or have you got a bitch of your own?”
“Shut the fuck up, D,” you shot back before Pierre could retort. Devante was never the most stable guy and you didn’t want Pierre’s pretty face getting ruined because he opened his mouth. “The only bitch around here is the one driving a GTR.”
“You’re not Leo’s Queen no more, Trouble,” Devante reminded you with a dark laugh. “There’s no one left to protect you.”
“She doesn’t need protection,” Pierre laughed. “I’ve seen her take down a guy without breaking a sweat.”
Devante leaned out of his window and chuckled. “And who do you think taught her?”
“I hear you finally upgraded your turbo,” you said to distract the two before they could come to blows out the car window. “A shame you still can’t drive for shit.”
“You wanna bet on that?” he asked before tossing his head back with a laugh. “Oh wait, I forgot you, don’t have shit. You can’t even put Papa’s garage up…”
“How about my car?” Pierre offered, momentarily stunning Devante into silence before he grinned at the option.
“No,” you hissed as you looked at your date. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What?” Pierre dropped a lopsided grin your way. “Don’t worry, Beautiful, I’ll pay your bail if we get arrested.”
“Last time she raced, she got dumped, hard,” Devante laughed and your fists tightened around the steering wheel. “Queen T lost her crown.”
“I fucking won though, didn’t I?” you fired at him as you changed the car out of automatic and flexed your fingers over the paddle shifts. “Conveniently forgot to share that bit, huh. I kicked Leo’s ass, in front of you and all your little friends. Me, a girl. And I’m going to kick your ass too.”
“I’ll see you at the top.”
You pulled the finger at him as you put the window up and Pierre finally looked a little concerned at the situation. “So, uh, what did we just get ourselves into?”
“There’s no we, this was all you. You should have just kept your mouth shut.”
“And let him treat you like that?” he asked incredulously. “You broke a guy's hand for touching you, but you would have just sat there and taken that insult?”
“You don’t understand, these guys live by different rules. There’s no FIA and regulations here.” You revved the engine impatiently as you waited for Devante to make the first move.
“I told you I wasn’t like them, Beautiful.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” you murmured, it would have been easier to risk his car if he was the playboy you thought he was. “I hope you have comfortable shoes in case you have a long walk back.”
“From where?”
“Dog’s Head.”
“You’re the one in heels,” he pointed out.
You could see the GTR inching forward when you looked across at Pierre to grin. “You’ll be piggybacking me.”
Devante’s patience ran out and he was ready to give in first, his car taking off to pull out and take the left turn like you thought he would. “He always takes the easy route.”
You floored the accelerator and a whoop of elation filled the car as you felt the power of it throw you back into the seat and Pierre laughed at the sound.
The D37 was a longer route to Tête de Chien but there were fewer corners, something Devante wasn’t very good at taking in his car because he didn’t like to waste time braking. You had no problem taking the zigzags of the D53 up into the mountain range, especially in the sports car with a great brake balance, so you turned right and left him to disappear in your rearview mirror.
“You’re insane, you know that?” you admitted as you locked the steering with the tight turns and climbed higher above the city. “What if I lose?”
“I like this car so I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but if you do then I think that guarantees at least two more dates.”
You laughed at the unexpected answer. “You’d really want to go out on another date.”
“I already do. I haven’t had this much fun on one…ever.” You spared a glance to see he did look rather pleased with himself. “You really know how to show this passenger princess a good time.”
“Wow, you’ve definitely had a few concussions,” you chuckled.
“Ah, beloved insults, it was only a matter of time.”
“That’s not even an insult, that’s just a statement. I’ve seen your races and some of those crashes must have left some damage.”
“Not as much as this conversation,” he teased as he clutched his chest.
You made it past the last sharp bend and pushed the car quickly through the gears as you accelerated along the relatively straight road and saw the turn off to Dog’s Head approaching. Nervousness had your palms clamming as you wondered whether you had arrived first or not. Your question was answered when another set of headlights came into view ahead as you both reached the turn off.
You veered up the road that was only a gentle curve from your end but Devante’s turn was into a hairpin and you could see him punching his steering wheel as you sped past him with a grin.
“Holy shit,” you laughed as you came to a stop at the peak and met Pierre’s eyes, pride and lust clear to see.
You were giddy as you unbuckled your seat and leaned across the centre console, meeting his lips as his hand caught the back of your neck. His fingers tightened as he pulled you closer and your lips parted with a gasp, his tongue taking the open opportunity. You were so high with the win you could have climbed right into his lap but then the back windscreen shattered and you tore away from his hold.
“Motherfucker,” you growled as you pushed the door open, rushing out to see Devante spinning his car back around in another donut to shoot more gravel at the Ferrari. Paint chipped as the stones kicked up and you yelped as one caught your cheek, your fingers coming away with blood as you touched the tender spot before Pierre reached you and pulled you safely behind his body.
“Are you alright?” he asked as Devante took off back down the mountain. If you had lost he would never have left without the Ferrari but the double standard was something you were used to. He would have never parted with his GTR.
“No, I’m pissed off.” You wanted to get in the car and chase after him, maybe run him off the road if your temper really got the better of you. Instead you looked up at Pierre so he could see the anger in your eyes, the years of resentment slipping through. “He gets away with losing nothing because he’s got a dick, it’s bullshit. No one will even know that he lost now.”
Pierre winced as he saw the cut on your cheek and used his sweater sleeve to gently wipe the blood away. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“What do you mean?” You tried not to sound so hopeful but he smiled as he caught it wrapped his arms around your waist.
He nodded his head to the front of the car. “Dash cam, Beautiful. I guess it depends on whether you are done living by their rules.”
You looked at the shattered back windscreen and the stone chips ruining the panels, a dark smile curling your lips. “Fuck their rules.”
Pierre tipped your chin back, his own lips curling up before he kissed you so hard your toes curled in your shoes as your arms draped around his neck. When he pulled back you were left breathless and saw more stars than what was already filling the night sky. “Fuck their rules,” he echoed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin and spreading even further. “Trouble’s coming their way.”
Click here for part three.
#pierre gasly fanfic#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly x y/n#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly imagine#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 rpf#formula 1 fanfic#formula one imagine
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Hey, if you're interested in another idea, would you like to write the reactions of the various characters to the dyslexic MC? (and therefore low self-esteem) ❣️❣️❣️
HLC REACT TO DYSLEXIC MC
It's not that MC couldn't read, they just had to do it slowly. Sometimes they'd have to stare at a sentence for several minutes before it made sense. Some days were better than others. While sometimes it would just be a letter or two out of place, sometimes it would be entire paragraphs looking like someone spilled alphabet soup on the page. They prayed to any higher power that would listen that they would never have to read in front of the class. It was bad enough to struggle doing homework reading assignments.
SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He reads like a Timelord, so he'll struggle with the idea that someone just can't read words sometimes. He'll be interested to learn about their condition, but MC will still have to remind him to be patient. If MC really struggles with learning something new, he'll gladly help them, for a price. He likes having friends in his dept.
OMINIS GAUNT: He learned how to read relatively late in life because of his blindness, so he still has to take his time. Don't even get him started on writing. Even with his wand, writing in a straight line with a quill is challenging. And POTIONS, UGH! Needless to say, he relates. Misery loves company.
ANNE SALLOW: She's not as voracious with reading like her brother, so she's far more compassionate in encouraging MC to take their time. The professors give lots of time when they're reading assignments usually and they shouldn't fret about it. If they have real concerns in the class, just talk to the professors. She is sure they'll understand.
IMELDA REYES: She genuinely believes MC can't read for the first couple months of the year. Did MC expect to just learn through osmosis by staring down their textbooks? Even after an explanation, it just sounds like excuses to her.
NATSAI ONAI: She's more of a doer than a reader herself, so she relates a little bit. She offers to help MC through their assignments by doing the reading for them and then explaining it verbally or through demonstration. She's not going to let her bestie fail just because their brain sees books as word jumbles.
GARRETH WEASLEY: He understands, but more under the pretense that he just has a hard time focusing because his brain is constantly elsewhere. Trial and error is the best way to learn anyway. If you don't understand it, wing it. It's worked for him so far.
LEANDER PREWETT: He can't help but poke a little bit of fun at the fact that MC actually does have an Achilles heel and is not perfect at everything. If this genuinely bothers them, he'll apologize. Reading's not all it's cracked up to be anyway, just about everything at Hogwarts can be learned verbally. They shouldn't stress about it too much.
AMIT THAKKAR: He's quite the avid reader, so while he's sharing his favorite books and lessons, he may accidentally come across as condescending. MC Just has to tell him once what they're dealing with and he'll offer to help. He can easily break down many of the professors reading lessons down into more simplified paragraphs to make them easier to read.
EVERETT CLOPTON: He doesn't have perfect vision, so while he's not dyslexic, he can relate to MC's esteem. Kids can be cruel to those they think show weakness. He has a sack full of dung bombs for anyone who bothers MC about their dyslexia.
POPPY SWEETING: She believes MC just needs a nice calm environment for their reading. No distractions or loud noises to bother them while they're focusing. The vivariums are perfect! The beasts never judge how quickly someone reads if MC would like to practice reading out loud.
ELEAZAR FIG: He knows early on they have trouble reading. Not to worry, he's dealt with this sort of thing before, comes with the territory of being a professor. He's very patient with them and lets them read at their own pace. When he can manage it, he'll try to keep lessons verbal and with illustrations instead of written words.
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy reactions#hl#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#anne sallow#imelda reyes#natsai onai#garreth weasley#leander prewett#amit thakkar#everett clopton#poppy sweeting#eleazar fig
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Hi! Do you have any tips to stopping mindlessly scrolling on social media (or phones in general)? 😅
honestly I'm not the best at this still. Like my screen time's still like 2-4h, but these are the things I've done that got it down from actually life threatening amounts
this is the main thing and also the most boring obvious one: delete all the apps that make u go to that "scrolling mindlessly"-mode. For me, was the basics like instagram, tiktok etc. My achilles' heel with this is this godforsaken app (tumblr), bc I keep redownloading it damnit
the approach is that if I'm gonna be consuming content, I'm gonna be mindful abt it, and not just hate-watch 3 negative video essays from Youtube in a row (my fave bc I'm a hater at heart). Instead, I'll watch a show I like, which actually works better at being a legit break-/chill-time, and doesn't fill me up with ''we're all fucked''-void. Actually sitting down to have the chill 20-40mins feels like a longer time than ad filled 20min x 3.
lots is bc of just getting so damn annoyed over ads that I close youtube the moment there is like 2 unskippable ads bc fuck u. Honestly I've gotten to the point I could just delete youtube as well just out of spite abt the fucking ads (hater at heart). So idk, start to develop a personal vendetta against ads, I guess
figuring out something to fill up the time bc realistically u won't just be studying/working more. My fave is walks (tho yeah that doesn't work if u have like a 5min time window; still don't know what to do with those hence redownloading Tumblr on for the third time in a day), and just sitting & thinking abt whatever the fuck is stuck there in my mind (braindead to say that "recently I've gotten into thinking" but like. yeah. (daydreaming is like a serious dear hobby to me))
podcasts are nice. Sure still is like somewhat social media thing-ish, but at least u can do something whilst listening to it. Like multitasking with a podcast & something stupid vs. my old habit of "gonna scroll a bit before starting to do this boring thing I don't wanna do". Doing the dishes and listening to a podcast is super chill
when there's the "gonna pick up my phone when I literally have no reason to & am just looking for any distraction": stop and reconsider like why are u doing that (with me, it's either I'm anxious, stressed or bored and there are better ways to deal with those. This is where the fan favorite of "sitting & thinking" comes in a lot of the times, which sometimes isn't much better and is sometimes detrimental to my wellbeing bc thought spiral, but hey nothing's perfect)
#long answer bc I honestly don't rly have a clue so it's pretty much a crapshoot abt seeing what sticks and idk what I'm talking abt#might add more if I can think of more but these are the first things that came to mind (sorry for the rambles tho; train of thought-thing)#asks#july 2024#2024
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(Teaser first chapter of my book, find it at Wattpad: @Alexandra_Pardo_GM, and find it at neobook: @alexandra_pardo, book title: The Olympian's concubine)
Click. Scroll. Tap. Click again, and again, and again.
That’s the only sound in my small apartment late at night. As a hacker, sleep is a luxury. It’s been five years of this relentless rhythm. I sigh as my phone buzzes, pulling my attention away. Blinking several times, I adjust to the glaring brightness of the screen after hours spent staring at the dark background of my command and hacking system. I tap to open the message and read:
"Girl, I need your help."
It’s from my best friend, Alkmini Eva Stavros—the first person who welcomed me when I moved to this city.
Theonopolis. A breathtaking metropolis teeming with myths, mysteries, and cutting-edge technology. It’s like a modern Atlantis—a paradise for those fortunate enough to find it. For someone like me, it’s the perfect hideaway. Not that I venture out often. My days and nights blur together as I focus on my ultimate goal: hacking one of the eight largest corporations in the city.
Which one, you ask? Well, your girl here has set her sights on the crown jewel: Olympus Dynamics. The biggest of them all.
Rumor has it the Greek gods are real and have woven themselves into these eight companies. That’s why I, one of the best hackers around, am determined to infiltrate them. And, naturally, I’ve started with the most powerful. Whispers say their CEO is a god in disguise. I know—it’s reckless. If the rumors are true, I’m probably signing my own doom. But hey, curiosity is my Achilles' heel.
"What do you need?" I type back, exhaling slowly.
"I accidentally messed with the website of Warfront Enterprises, and I don’t know how to fix it," she replies.
In that moment, I want the ground to swallow me whole.
"Don’t worry, I got you," I text back, though I’m seriously tempted to tell her to go straight to hell.
Warfront Enterprises—another one of the eight giants. This one’s a fortress of defense and security tech: military-grade systems, elite cybersecurity, and strategic consulting. In short, my friend has royally screwed up. Lucky for her, she has me.
Rolling my shoulders, I dive in. Fingers flying across the keyboard, I begin typing commands into my control panel. Warfront’s site is one of the toughest in the world to crack, and I’m pretty sure they’ve detected my presence already. My muscles tense—getting caught would be disastrous. Adrian Mars, Warfront’s enigmatic Director of Wildlife Preservation, is infamous for handling breaches... permanently. No one who's crossed him has lived to share the tale.
But I’m in too deep now. After two tense hours of relentless focus, I finally breach their defenses.
Nice work, Aurora. Now, time to clean up this mess that I found.
Scrolling and tapping to pinpoint the problem, I realize it’s far worse than I anticipated—my friend has accidentally unleashed a polymorphic virus on the site. Lucky for her, a polymorphic virus doesn’t alter the original code, but it does make my job infinitely harder. The virus rewrites any fixes I attempt, flagging them as failures. This particular strain is notorious: the legendary "fail tab" virus.
I need to work fast before it spirals out of control.
My fingers fly across the keyboard as I attack the virus head-on, sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. Just as I’m about to erase it for good, my command system tab suddenly closes.
“What the—?”
Before I can react, a video call window pops up, taking over my screen.
My breath catches as I stare at the man on the other end. A shiver runs down my spine. His eyes radiate a quiet menace, violence simmering beneath their piercing gaze.
By the gods.
Is this… Adrian Mars? If it is, I’m done for. Completely and utterly screwed.
We sit in tense silence, locked in a one-sided stare. Or rather, I’m staring at the screen, struggling to regain control of my hammering heart. Finally, with a trembling hand, I accept the call.
He wastes no time.
“So, you’re the one fucking around with my website,” he states flatly. His voice is low and controlled, each word striking like a whip. It’s not an accusation—it’s a fact.
My nerves flare under his intensity, but I refuse to cower. “I wasn’t fucking with your website,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. “I was fixing it.”
A deep growl rumbles from his throat, silencing me for a moment. He doesn’t look impressed.
After what feels like an eternity, he speaks again, his tone slightly more measured. “Fixing what exactly?”
I swallow hard, steadying myself. “My friend—who I assume works for your company—accidentally placed a polymorphic virus on the site. She panicked and asked me to fix it since she was too scared to report it directly.”
His eyes narrow, his expression unreadable.
Was I throwing my friend under the bus? Absolutely. But she dragged me into this mess, and a bad day wouldn’t kill her.
“Your friend’s name?” he grumbled.
I started to wonder if this man was capable of speaking without growling. Sitting there, holding my breath, it felt like I’d been frozen in time for twenty minutes. How someone could make me this tense just by staring was beyond me.
“Alkmini Eva Stavros,” I muttered, my voice quieter than I intended. Internally, I gave myself a pat on the back for holding it together—or so I thought until the beast on the other end of the call spoke again.
“So, you’re the friend she’s been fawning over—the so-called hacker.” He leaned closer to the camera, and his next words sent ice through my veins. “Then fix it before I decide to show up at your apartment door.”
My blood froze. A shiver raced down my spine. I nodded like a scolded child, praying to any god who might be listening that he wouldn’t notice just how terrified I was.
Satisfied, he ended the call.
The moment the screen went black, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Great job embarrassing yourself, Aurora, I thought, scolding myself.
Shaking off the lingering fear, I turned back to the task at hand with renewed focus. I couldn’t let that growling menace rattle me into failure. After what felt like an eternity of intense work, I finally fixed the issue. To top it off, I sent a scathing message to my dear friend, cursing her for dragging me into such a nightmare.
Her reply was as predictable as it was maddening: an endless string of “I’m sorry” copied and pasted a hundred times over. My irritation ended when she followed up with a promise to bring me my favorite lunch for the next three days.
Exhausted but victorious, I closed my laptop and leaned back, letting my eyes drift shut. For a moment, I focused solely on my breathing, trying to release the tension coiled in my body.
Two minutes of stillness passed, and I decided it was time to move. Checking my messages one last time to ensure my friend hadn’t gotten into any fresh trouble, I pulled myself out of the chair.
The chaos of the night had blurred into morning, sunlight spilling through my window. If I wanted to catch up with Alkmini in person and ensure she hadn’t set any other disasters in motion, I needed to get going. It was a long walk from my apartment to the city center, and with luck, I’d make it just in time for lunch.
Getting up from my seat—which probably had the shape of my ass permanently molded into it by now—I shuffled to the bathroom, peeling off the baggy clothes I’d been living in as I walked. Stepping into the shower, I stood there for a moment, mentally preparing myself, before turning the water on.
Big mistake.
The freezing spray hit the tiles, and I jumped out of the way with a yelp. By the gods, why do I always forget it starts ice-cold?
After what felt like an eternity of cautiously testing the water with my foot, I finally found the courage to step back under the stream. A sigh of relief escaped me as the warmth spread over my skin. I practically melted under the water, letting the heat seep into every tense muscle.
For a good five minutes, I simply stood there, letting the hot water work its magic. Then, reluctantly, I reached for the sponge, determined to scrub until my skin was red and raw. I didn’t care if it was overkill—this was my first real shower in what felt like days.
Well… okay, it wasn’t that long ago. I remembered perfectly well when my last shower was. But it felt like forever, and that was reason enough for a deep cleanse.
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6 and 13 for ao3 wrapped!
6. Favourite title you used this year:
It's a toss-up between two song title ones:
'Our steps will always rhyme' - the Galadriel/Thondir (and Sauron/Adar) fic I did for Smash The Champagne Bottle, which I like because the title works for the Galadriel-Sauron parallels and because the Leonard Cohen song it's from is 'Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye', which also worked really nicely for Thondir's and Adar's betrayals.
and 'Weakened like Achilles, with you always at my heels', a Haladriel fic, which is from an Indigo Girls song ('Ghost') I've wanted to use for a fic title for some Haladriel fic for a long time and never quite found the right one.
And now I see your face before me I would launch a thousand ships To bring your heart back to my island As the sand beneath me slips As I burn up in your presence And I know now how it feels To be weakened like Achilles With you always at my heels...
13. What's your longest work of the year?
It's technically 'Shadow-Bride', my long Haladriel fic, at an I-did-not-see-that-coming-when-I-started-writing word count of 265,716.
But while some of that fic was written this year I started writing it in 2022 - so sticking to fics that were entirely written this year it's ' As certain dark things are loved', which is Silmarillion Galadriel/Celeborn/Annatar in Ost-in-Edhil and just over 8,000 words. (And wasn't going to be that long either, but I wanted to write parts of it from all three characters' perspectives and as ever totally underestimated how long that would take me.)
[AO3 Wrapped asks]
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Ch. 31: Morning to Midnight Pt. 1
MONDAY - FALL 8
Achilles hadn’t thought he’d be nervous to chat with a class full of supposedly-eager nine year olds. But there he was, grinding his teeth, fingernails digging crescent moves from beneath his shirtsleeve as he anxiously counted down the minutes until the bus to Moonmist arrived.
He had taken some care in choosing his rabbit pattered button down for the occasion, figuring it’d be a nice gesture to match with Meteor Elementary’s mascot.
“How do I look?” he’d asked his new cat, who’d been lurking behind him in the mirror, with a bit of a spin.
But Voltaire had merely meowed, which Achilles had taken to interpret as: Not bad. But nobody’s going to care or notice, pal.
No matter. Achilles glanced at his faded reflection in the bus stop walls and readjusted his collar for the hundredth time.
Penny arrived second, her long yellow skirt flowing in the autumn wind. Achilles hadn’t seen her since Elliott’s birthday, and the stiffness in her usual small wave conveyed a slight sense of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all that the other day…” She took a seat, leaving a foot or so between her and Achilles. “Mom… she can be… it can be… a burden, sometimes. Worrying about her. I want her to be happy, and I love the town, everyone is so kind, but sometimes…” Penny ran her fingers along the strap of her messenger bag and crossed her Mary Janes, her throat bobbing with a gulp. “I don’t want to be here. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to live in the city…”
Achilles shrugged. “Loud and malodorous.”
Penny gave a light laugh before reverting back to chewing her cuticles. “But I can’t leave her alone, I’m all she has… but seeing how much Shane has improved these past few weeks gives me hope. That maybe,” she dug her heels in the dirt. “Maybe things can get better.”
It was true—Shane had improved. He continued to communicate primarily through grunts, but he seemed quicker to laugh these days. Every morning, he could be found working the land of Strawberry Farms. And despite Achilles’ insistence that it was entirely in Shane’s hands, this strange, sunnier disposition had been somewhat contagious, and Achilles had found himself occasionally caught up in the thrill of it all, too, occasionally joining both Shane and the dreaded worms in the dirt.
Already, they had planted a host of crops—beets and bok choy, cranberries and eggplants. Yams and pumpkins for Spirit’s Eve. Achilles had insisted they plant a row of fairy rose as well, and Shane had surprisingly obliged with barely a sarcastic retort.
“Yes, I… suppose. Things could get better. But don’t go putting your life on hold.” The words felt a little harsher on his tongue than he had intended, and Achilles felt perhaps he could lighten his tone with a pat of her hand. But the unfamiliarity between them gave him pause, and he instead flexed his fingers against his thigh just as Alex sidled up to the bus stop with his gym bag slung across his chest.
“Hey ho! First day of school, Ash?”
Achilles looked up from the bench.
“You know it.” He bumped Alex’s offered fist. “Fingers crossed they don’t bully me.”
“Hey, didn’t your dad tell you to just walk away? See, you’re prepared already.”
The bus pulled up at 6:30 sharp, the sharp creak of its doors sending the first day jitters that had been pushed aside during Penny’s confession back into Achilles’ increasingly sweaty hands.
“I didn’t think you’d get nervous.” Alex shot Achilles, who’d been unusually quiet, a glance. “Figured you’d be used to this stuff.”
“I also didn’t think I’d get nervous.” And it was true—Achilles? Nervous about public speaking? And in front of third graders? What was wrong with him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Well. Don’t be nervous, it’ll be great!” Alex said, as the bus pulled into Moonmist. He gave Achilles’ rather clammy hand a quick pat before slapping his back with significantly more gusto. “You get to be the center of attention, I know you’ll love that.”
“I really need to start revising my image if that’s how you see me…”
“And it’s third grade. They’re not old enough to be mean yet.” Alex flashed him a reassuring smile and repeated, “It’ll be great.”
“What if they think I suck? What if they hate me? I’m not qualified for this.” The words had slipped out by accident, almost a squeak as everything Eddie Bloomsbury had written about him came flooding back to the forefront of his brain.
“You don’t suck! And you’re wearing rabbits! Who could hate you?”
*****
Moonmist was a suburban town that sat between Stardew and Zuzu. A street of cookie cutter houses in various pastel shades lined a smooth cobblestone street that intersected a small, outdoor shopping center. It was obvious the population had to have been ten times that of Stardew at the very least, but even so, to Achilles it all still felt quaint and quiet.
At the corner of Main Street was Meteor Elementary—a red one story building with a bright blue roof. Giant, multicolored flowerbeds had been planted in front of a large mural of two rabbits munching under a full moon and shooting stars.
“Much more personality than my school ever had,” Achilles said, following Penny inside. “Oh, definitely more personality than my school ever had.”
The bright colors had infiltrated the inside of the school, as well. The floors were a standard slick linoleum, but a bright trail of cheery bees dotted the center of the hallway to help young students keep to the right side. The linoleum walls were covered in colorful bulletin boards, encouraging posters and slogans, and student artwork—more murals made sure no wall was left white and bare.
“We were able to get some local artists to come in and paint. Leah actually did that one,” Penny said as they passed a smiling sun rising over what Achilles instantly recognized to be Stardew Valley, but with more cows.
Penny’s classroom was, much like Penny, warm and inviting but almost austere in its organization. 20 desks were arranged in 4 neat rows facing the front. The chairs, all neatly pushed in, had cloth pocket-like things hanging from the back.
“Emily sews them for me. Every student brings a pillowcase the first week, and she turns them into little pouches to hold books!” she said, dropping her messenger bag behind her own desk.
Already, Penny seemed to be moving with much more confidence and ease between the four walls of her room, her voice more assured, strides longer, her movements more purposeful and energized.
She waved Achilles over to the back where a longer table stood atop a polka dotted rug alongside several mismatched bean bags. In the corner was a bookshelf and several bins, all teeming with books conveniently labeled by genre.
“Our little library—donations, mostly, so they tend to be older, but I try to buy things when I can if there’s something out that’s really exciting.”
He headed over to “spooky/mystery” and held up a rather battered copy of the first Henry Spector. “It never gets old, seeing your work in print. I mean, maybe it does if you’re not a narcissist like I am—”
Penny laughed. “You’ll have to sign them! But not now, when the kids get here.”
Achilles traced his finger along the spines. Was it longing that he was now feeling on top of his nerves? Nostalgia? Regret?
*****
At 7:50 the kids started shuffling in. Achilles had taken the seat behind Penny’s desk as she greeted them one by one at the door.
Most of students eyed him rather suspiciously—who was this weirdo man? they must’ve been wondering—but none of them said anything as they took their seats and reached into their pillowcases for books to read. It seemed this was the usual schedule of things until the day officially got started.
At 8:00, 18 of the 20 seats were filled.
“Good morning, everyone!” Penny chirped as she walked to the front of the class.
“Good morning, Ms. Mellin,” said the chorus of children.
“We have a special guest speaker today. Does anyone remember who’s joining us?”
A loud gasp from a girl in the second row—she raised her hand, but without waiting to be called on, she squealed, “Is that Mr. Robinson?” With her free hand, she pointed rather aggressively at Achilles who was now standing next to Penny and had to bite his cheek as the girl continued to bounce in her seat, the ribbons in her ponytail going wild in the air.
“Yes, Lila!” Penny said with a warm smile. “But let’s remember to not shout our answers until we’re called on.”
“I like your rabbit shirt, Mr. Robinson,” a boy from the front said.
“Thank you! I like your car shirt.”
“Hand please, Jacob! Now, I hope everyone came prepared with questions. Today, Mr. Robinson is going to be teaching us what makes a good story…”
Achilles glanced around as Penny continued to introduce him. It felt odd being called Mr. Robinson—perhaps he should’ve asked Penny to introduce him with his first name instead. He had never loved using titles around kids. To paraphrase one of his favorite books, he felt there was nothing inherently disrespectful about using a first name as long as one made sure to speak respectfully. He felt titles and last names set up a strange divide, especially given that, coming to the kids as an author rather than a teacher, he wasn’t really in a position of authority over them.
“…without further ado, let’s give a big warm welcome to Mr. Robinson.”
The clapping of little hands drew him out of his reverie, and Achilles stepped forward.
At this moment, he was reminded of a passage from, coincidentally, the sequel of the aforementioned favorite book—he had spent all week preparing his talking points, his lesson plan, his opening speech! Revising and improving them so as to best inspire and instruct this little class of impressionable minds. And yet, the problem was, he could not now remember a single word of it.
Why was he nervous? It made no sense. Alex had been right—he loved this sort of stuff, he should’ve been in his element.
The class watched him wide-eyed—expectant or with dread?
Just say something you dumb fuck, pretend it’s a pitch.
“Good morning, everyone!” Achilles broke into a wide smile. “I am so excited Ms. Mellin brought me here to speak with you all today. Now before we get started, who can tell me what they think makes a good story?”
He was hamming it on a little thick, perhaps, but he was out of practice and the children didn’t seem to notice anyway. Fuck, it took thinking about BRLO to get him talking, huh? Might as well just stab him in the heart…
At least the students were excited, once things got rolling—stretching their hands as high as they could for his attention in order to answer and ask questions significantly more fun (and significantly less shady) than Industry Weekly had ever asked, that was for sure…
He spoke for roughly an hour before it was time to break.
“Now I want everyone to spend the next 30 minutes revising the ideas they had for their stories,” Penny said, taking her place center stage again. “When you think you’ve got it narrowed down to 3 of your favorite choices, please come to the back where Mr. Robinson and I will help you choose which one we think will be best for you to focus on.”
The little students reached into their desks and dutifully fell silent, withdrawing their notebooks as Achilles followed Penny to the long table in the back where he took one of three seats. Tiny little things, and so close to the ground; his knees were sitting higher than his hips.
“I thought that went well!” Penny whispered, with a soft clasp of her hands just as a girl—Lila— scurried over, notebook in hand.
“I already have my three ideas, Ms. Mellin,” she exclaimed, sliding her open notebook toward the pair and plopping into the empty yellow chair.
“Wonderful, how about you explain each of them to Mr. Robinson and I.”
With an admirable lack of hesitation, Lila immediately launched into a longwinded description of astronaut rabbits sent to find carrots on the moon.
“Which one do you think is best?” she asked once she had finished with all three ideas, brown eyes gazing penetratingly at Achilles.
“Hmm, how about we flip that question around—which idea do you think is best?” he asked.
Lila’s eyes grew—if possible—even wider. A pop quiz! “Oh… I don’t know.”
“Is there one that makes you feel more excited than the others?”
Lila’s eyes narrowed, deep in thought. “I think the first one.”
“And what about the first one makes you excited?”
“Well… I really like rabbits,” she said, gnawing on her pencil to Achilles’ vague, but well-concealed, disgust. “And I think it would be really fun to research about space.” (Achilles had mentioned the importance of research earlier that morning).
“Then I think you should do the first one.”
“Ok!” Penny gave her a thumbs up, and Lila scurried away.
“Easy enough,” he said with a shrug. What had he been so nervous about…
Most students required more conversation and deliberation than Lila had, but Penny and Achilles kept at it steadily for another hour or so until all the children had chosen their story ideas.
Penny then led the class in a five minute stretch break, tiny arms reaching for the ceiling (Achilles felt obliged to play along) before the students settled back down for 20 minutes of SSR—silent sustained reading time, as Penny explained.
“Excuse me, Mr. Robinson,” came a voice. Achilles looked up from the lesson plan he had been revisiting. A pigtailed little girl was standing before him holding up the copies of Henry Spector. “I’m the class librarian, and I was wondering if you would sign our books, please and thank you.”
From her desk, Penny flashed him a smile.
Oh, what the heck. Might as well enjoy it.
He took her pen and signed away.
*****
Achilles had headed home shortly before lunch after assuring the students he’d be back next Monday to help them revise their first drafts.
What a breath of fresh air! How silly he had been, with all his nerves and yesterday’s sleepless night—the truth of the matter was, he truly had been scared the students would hate him. Would question his qualifications, would see through him for the fraud that he was. They were, after all, his original target audience.
But the students had only been enthusiastic. Too young to recognize any lack of skill, to have judged Henry Spector on its supposed lack of literary merit—all they had wanted was a good story and to meet someone more famous than the local mayor.
Speaking of which, the stories they had shared with him—absolute nonsense, half of them were, but truly, the unabashed, innocent eagerness with which they had shared their tales… he had found it all, for lack of a better, less cheesy word, inspiring.
That being said, he thought to himself as he skipped back into Strawberry Farms. He must take care to stay cautious. No doubt these feelings were partly fueled by his pitiful ego’s need for attention being temporarily appeased (it didn’t matter the attention was coming from nine year olds). It would be best to stay a little wary of it all.
Don’t let it go to your head! This is nothing!
Nevertheless, the morning’s events had undoubtedly enlivened him. After hanging his bag in his closet, he had grabbed the notebook he had begun writing in a week or so ago and skipped back outside to his porch. It was a lovely, lovely day—just the slightest breeze. The smell of crunchy leaves. Voltaire was having fun chasing the newly hatched monarch butterflies.
Feet up on the table, pen in hand. It took only a minute before Achilles found himself writing again with renewed vigor. Something a little different from the adult project he had mentioned to Camille… just a silly little side project for kids, he’d get back to the real thing once this high wore off…
But how easily the words flowed! Only when the sun had begun to set and his words became hard to read did he remember he hadn’t eaten. He tucked his pen behind his ear. Hopefully there was something in the fridge…
“Evenin’.”
Achilles had returned to the porch with a chicken arugula salad in hand to see Shane, back from another long day’s work at Joja.
“These are good for sellin’ now.” Shane approached the porch, turning down Achilles’ offer to sit, and instead showing him the bright red cranberries cupped in his hands. “Take a look.”
“Oh wow!” Achilles reached for one, giving it a little squeeze between his fingers. “This is great! Do we take them to Pierre’s?”
“We can if you want—otherwise, we can just leave ‘em in the shipping bin over there.” Shane nodded towards a large, pale yellow crate that sat near the mailbox. “You can call the city to set a pick-up schedule. I’m thinking maybe Tuesdays and Fridays?”
“Sure, sounds great to me. Tuesdays and Fridays. We’ll call it the Sacred Schedule.”
The edges of Shane’s lips twitched.
“The sprinklers you set up the other day are actually working pretty good. I was impressed.” Shane’s eyes twinkled as he dropped the handful of cranberries into a wicker basket he had brought with him. “It’ll make things a bit easier.”
A bit of backhanded compliment there, but from Shane—Achilles would take it. In all honestly, it had taken him over an hour to get the damn things working, but his fellow farmer didn’t have to know that…
“I was wondering…” To Achilles’ surprise, Shane met his gaze as he wiped his hands against the pockets of what had been a clean Joja hoodie. “Thought maybe I’d cut some hours at Joja, if that’s ok with you. So I can focus more on the farm.”
“If it’s ok with me? Come on, Shane, I’m not your mom—you do whatever you think is best. Yoba knows, you’re the expert here.”
“Huh.” Shane leaned one arm against the porch as he turn to look at the neatly arranged trellises and tangles of green out beyond the pond. A soft smile. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
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god i just finished my big gravity falls rewatch and i really!!! forgot how cool a villain bill is esp given the constraints of the medium / audience / network.... no wonder he was the basis of my url for like a year lmao
#hey achilles..nice work with the HEEL#ive got some children i need to make into corpses#god who cld ever top or#shut up aggie
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Ik that this is very specific but I like to imagine all of the wmftd universes and au’s put into one universe. Like Thy Starry Crown and all the others.. I like Y/N’s mortal from Thy Starry Crown would get along with Sergeant; and if you throw Sergeant’s medic into the mix Medic would teach Y/N’s mortal & Patroclus about modern medicine. Ik it’s random but y’know 😭
Anatomy of Clay
word count: 1K
Pairings: Mainly Achilles x Patroclus, implied Y/N x Starry!reader.
Warnings: talk of death, wars, no beta.
Notes: Hi!!! Thank you so much for waiting and sorry it is so short. Took some time to work who I wanted to tell the story and went with Sergeant. I hope you like it!
Sergeant once watched Medic pull a man from the brink of death by slamming his fist over and over on the soldier's chest, mud smeared on his jaw and damp from the non-stop drizzle of rain. Medic had looked half-mad, desperately trying to save another boy from dying.
The loud gasp the soldier made still lived in Sergeant’s memory. It always would.
He wondered if the boy ever made it home.
“I should have known about the coin. Nothing this shiny is ever good.” Medic grumbled, his eyes darting over to the entrance of Elysium. The sound of smoothing water drifted over, the grass looked soft even far away as they were.
“I didn’t realize ya kept it. I thought I gave it up to the Boatman.” Sergeant told him, nudging them along. He had a poor sense of time here but Sir Achilles had invited them and Sergeant hated the thought of being late.
Medic shrugged, not saying a word. He didn’t talk much about what happened to him after Sergeant’s demise. Which was fine with Sergeant, he will get it out Medic eventually. He had all the time in the world now.
Elysium was breathtakingly beautiful and he honestly could have spent the rest of forever here. Even Medic seemed impressed, his shoulders relaxing.
“You said that Achilles’…” Medic paused, trying to find the right word. Medic and Sergeant both came from different places, different worlds. Medic with a silver spoon in his mouth and Sergeant who has been working since he could. However they knew they grew up, having to be careful how they spoke.
“Beloved.” Sergeant told him. “Things are different here. But the word ‘husband’ works as well. And yeah, Patroclus was something of a healer himself and a warrior.. And their son-in-law was one of the best healers to ever live.”
“Or so he bragged to me.” Sergeant finished with a chuckle.
Medic raised a brow but had the manner not to say anything else. His eyes widened when he saw who was waiting for them. Tall, broad shoulders and scarred, Achilles’ son stuck an imposing figure. If the boy smiled, he would have looked heroic but he only scowled at them.
Sergeant probably had warned Medic that Y/N’s glare could stop a tank in its place. This was the third or so time Sergeant ever met the lad. But that didn’t seem to matter to Y/N who scowled at them.
“Hey, how are ya, friend? Your parents around?” Sergeant called out, not minding the look Medic shot him. Y/N glanced at Sergeant, eyes narrowed. And Christ, it was a shame the didn't have Y/N (or his parents for that matter) around for those nazis.
Those damn nazis would have folded like a house of cards.
"Sergeant." He greeted them, his voice low. Still a touch unfriendly.
“Medic, this is Y/N. Achilles and Patroclus’ boy. Y/N, this is Medic. Crazy bastard fought with me in the war. He is- was a healer." Sergeant said as he slapped a friendly hand on Medic's back.
Medic was more well-mannered than Sergeant and didn't elbow him as he stepped toward Y/N. To his credit, Medic didn’t flitched away from Y/N’s watchful eyes.
"It's nice to meet you." Medic said, holding out a hand. Y/n stared at it warily for a moment then took it, giving a polite shake before letting go.
"Follow me." With that, Y/N turned on his heel, already walking away.
Medic shot Sergeant a glare and all he could was offered an easy grin and shrug. The boy wasn’t known for making a good first impression. Sergeant suspected it might be on purpose.
Sergeant had been told by Achilles during down time that they made a little hidden part of Elysium of their home. They found the rest of the group close by the river Lethe, a house built into the stone. It was admittedly cozy.
Achilles and Patroclus were sitting side by side, knees touching. There was a third man with them, and Sergeant assumed that must be the son-in-law. Their soft conversation broke as they saw the others.
Achilles was first to greet them, golden and cheerful like a moviestar. He took Medic's hand with both of his, his smile easy.
"Lad! It is good to finally meet you. Sergeant talked often about you." Achilles said cheerfully and Medic muttered something in agreement, sounding a little awestruck.
Which was almost everyone when they met Achilles the first couple times.
Y/N moved past them, helping Patroclus stand then held out his hand to Reader to help them stand up. Reader took it with a soft grin toward Y/N and Sergeant acted like he didn’t notice their hands lingering.
Patroclus was a little more subdued, but his smile was warm. “Welcome. I’ve been told you were a healer.”
“Ah. Yes. My father was a family doctor. Went to college a little earlier than most. Then well the war came.” Medic said.
“What did you study?” Reader asked. It was the real good look Sergeant got at him.
He was a pretty boy, the kind that every girl in their church would have batted their eyes at, but there was a spark in those eyes that spoke of real intelligence. Achilles had said Reader was one of the few he met that could match Odysseus for wit.
And Y/N did nickname him Genius.
Sergeant already saw why. Reader gave them both a sweet smile, and Sergeant returned it, already charmed by the boy.
“Medical and I was lucky enough to get to see some surgeries beforehand.” Medic said, shaking both Patroclus and Reader’s hands.
That got Reader’s attention.
Before Sergeant knew it, Medic was already sitting down with Patroclus and Reader, telling them of the first surgery he got to help with. He went to his bag, the only thing that he brought with him, pulling out ratty notebooks.
Y/N, looking bored of the conversation already, settled in with his back against a rock. He took out a half-finish small block of wood and a small blade, returning to whatever it was he was working on.
However he would glance at Reader with a faint, proud smile every now and then before returning to his work.
Achilles only chuckled, and gestured for Sergeant to sit with him. “I should have warned you. It is one of their most favorite things to talk about.”
Sergeant glanced Medic, a little relieved that his friend was lost in conversation. This was the first time that Medic didn’t seem lost, staring at everything and everyone with confusion and faint anger.
“It’s all good, sir.” Sergeant told Achilles quietly. “I appreciate it.”
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Visiting Hemlock-Dream
This is a Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! Small thing, hemlock is another type of poison. It is actually the poison that the Greek philosopher Socrates was forced to consume after he was found guilty in his trail.
Masterlist here
This is a part two to Sweet as Cyanide (here), so if you haven’t read that yet you can check it out . Don’t worry. I’ll wait…..
All good? Okay here we go!
Y/N is finally able to visit Dream in prison.
Y/N’s POV
“Are you sure about this? You know no one would blame you if you never wanted to see him again,” Niki questioned, a soft hand resting on my shoulder. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes and scoff. Instead, I settled for a fake shy smile and a small head nod, “I know Nik. But I really want to see him. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it,” I explained, hoping desperately she would leave it at that. Niki gave me a pitiful smile as she nodded, giving my arm a tight squeeze. “I know what you mean… I’ll be right here when you get out,” She assured, wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug before taking a few steps back. “Thanks Niki. I’ll see you in a bit,” I claimed softly before turning toward the prison. I took a deep breath before making my way to the entrance.
I let out a deep breath as I reached up and pressed the button, letting Sam know I was there. A noise sounded letting me know I could enter and pass through the grid. I was greeted by Sam at his desk. “Hey Y/N” Sam greeted me, holding a stack of papers. “Hey Sam,” I greeted back, my eyes scanning around the place. “This looks really nice,” I complimented the warden on his build. “Thank you!” He beamed, handing the papers he held to me. “These are just waiver you need to sign. They basically say that you release the prison from all responsibility if you get hurt and that that responsibility falls on the prisoner you are visiting.” He explained, handing me a pen. I hummed and quickly scanned the documents before signing them.
Sam quickly took them and tucked them away in his desk before standing up and moving out from behind the desk. “Alright. We’re good to move on.” I followed him out of the room and into a room full of chests. “Please put all your things in this chest here,” He asked, motioning to a chest near the door. I gave him a nod before quickly emptying my inventory. Once I was done, I turned and proved to Sam that there was nothing left on my person. Sam gave me a smile and a nod before we moved on once more.
My excitement grew as we walked down the path I had only been down once before. My hands seemed to shake at the sight of the lava wall that hid my boyfriend from my view. “Hey, if you’re too nervous to do this, you can turn back around. You don’t have to see him,” Sam comforted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. He was taking my excitement as nerves… good. I took a deep breath and gave him a shy smile, “I’m okay Sam, really. I want to see him,” I assured the tall man. “Okay… Do you want me to stay here with you or go back to the cams?” Sam questioned, still unsure if he should leave me alone with ‘the monster’. “You can go watch on the cams. I’ll be fine, even if something were to happen you could be back here in a flash,” I claimed with a small smile.
Sam gave me a small nod, “Alright, here you go.” Sam reached over to the wall and pressed the button that controlled the lava. Slowly, the lava stopped falling, revealing my love. I felt my breath catch in my throat at the sight of the blonde boy that had my whole heart. The iron bars fell allowing me free access to Dream. Sam gave me a pat on the back before he disappeared out the door.
I wasted no more time and ran to Dream. A smile, a real smile, formed on his face as I raced toward him. Our bodies crashed together with the swift motion, my arms wrapping around his neck, his around my waist. I squeezed him tightly as I buried my face in his neck. I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes and onto his skin. “I missed you so much bub,” I cried into his neck. “Shhh, love,” he murmured, rubbing one hand up and down my back, holding me close.
“I missed you too. I’ve been so lonely here. I’ve missed your sweet words, your gorgeous face. I miss waking up next to you every morning. I love you so much,” he muttered into my ear, pressing a kiss to my temple. His words shocked me a bit. Yes, I love Dream and he loves me, but he almost never acted like this. “I’ve missed everything about you. I miss your kisses and cuddles. I miss the way you’d threaten everyone for even looking at me in the wrong way. I’ve missed going to sleep next to you, cuddling and waking up the same way. I love you so much too,” I muttered back.
Dream pulled away slightly, just enough to face me before crashing his lips into mine. My eyes fluttered closed as I completely melted into the kiss and into my boyfriend. I missed my love so much. I missed feeling his lips on mine. His gentle touches, his sweet smiles, his manipulation of everyone around us. He’s mine and I am his, no matter what and no matter where.
Dream was the one to pull away from our kiss. “God I’ve missed that,” He announced, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t help but giggle and return the grin, “I’ve missed that too.” Dream slowly unwrapped himself from me, but quickly reached out and took my hand. He walked me over to his bed. He let go of my hand before sitting down on his bed, resting his back against the wall. I raised my eyebrow at his actions but he simply patted his lap telling me to sit down. I giggled and rolled my eyes at the action, but obeyed. I quickly moved my legs so that there was one on either side of his thighs and I sat on his lap. Once again, my arms moved to wrap around his neck and his came to wrap around my voice.
“So,” Dream began once we got settled, “How’s it going out in the free world?” Dream asked, teasingly. I could tell that he was both asking about the server, but was also making a joke about the fact everyone thought that I was now ‘free’ from his control. “It’s all fine, I guess. You were right. Everyone began coddling me the second that prison door slammed behind me. I’ve been staying with Niki because they think going back to our house is too painful for me,” I informed Dream, who simply scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“The more important thing though,” I started, lowering my voice a lot as to not have it picked up by the cameras, “I can’t get a hold of Technoblade. No one has seen him, or at least not that they’re telling me. I went to his house and he wasn’t there, I went to Phil’s house and he said he hadn't seen him. But I’ll keep looking. I’m going to get you out of here.” I promised my boyfriend quietly. Dream’s brow furrowed, “That’s really odd. Especially since Philza hasn’t seen him… He must remember he owes me that favorite. But you have my full trust, love. I know you’ll make me proud.”
My heart swelled at his words. It was so comforting to hear that. Even though weeks ago, he promised me it wasn’t my fault he was here, I could help but still feel guilty about it. Especially because I had to pretend that I was happy he was gone. I didn’t respond with words, instead leaning forward and pressing my face into the side of his neck and pressing a small kiss there. “I love you.” “I love you too.”
The rest of the time we spent together was in that position. I told him about all the new structures that were being built around the server. I told him about how everyone was working together but there was definitely still some tension. Dream didn’t seem surprised at that at all. Dream told me about his days at the prison. He had a small clock gifted to his by Sam. He admitted to me that he would sometimes throw his clock out of his cell into the lava so Sam would come in and bring him a new one, allowing Dream to have some form of human contact. He got three meals a day, but he claimed none have ever been good as my cooking, that made me blush. Dream spent most of his day thinking about me and the things he would be doing if he wasn’t locked up. He kept a little journal in order to keep himself sane.
In a much quieter tone, Dream also told me of the little things he’s noticed about the prison. How the lava always takes a few seconds before it begins its descent. Dream told me he knew that the redstone sometimes would misfire and Sam would have to take the time to fix it. Sometimes it only took a few minutes but there were also times he’d be gone for many hours. Dream also spoke of where he thinks the elder guardian that causes mining fatigue was being held. I listened very carefully to what he was telling me. Sam is an excellent builder, even better engineer, but nobody was perfect and it sounds like to me that Dream was slowly but surely finding Pandora’s Achilles heel.
It felt so good to be in Dream’s arms again though, even in this circumstance. In the many years we’ve been dating, I’ve never been away from Dream for that long before and it was really hard. Which explains why I was so excited for this visit… But alas, all good things must come to an end.
“Times up Y/N…” Sam called softly from the platform behind us. I looked over my shoulder and gave the man a nod in acknowledgement. I turned back to Dream, leaned forward and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Goodbye my love,” I whispered to the blonde man, tears threatening to fall again from my eyes. A smile appeared on his lips, “Goodbye love,” He returned at the same level. I slowly got off of my boyfriend and walked away from Dream. Once I was out of the cell, I turned back around to face Dream, who had also stood up from his bed “I’ll be back soon,” I promised the blonde boy who remained in his cell. A small chuckle left his lips as the iron bars enclosed him once more, “I’ll be here.”
With that, I took a few more steps back to stand next to Sam. I gave my boyfriend a small wave as Sam pressed the button to make the lava begin pouring from the ceiling. I could see Dream's sad smile as he waved back at me and then he was gone.
“You okay?” Sam asked gently, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Yeah,” I sniffed, reaching up and wiping at my eyes, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me see him,” I thanked, changing the topic. Sam gave me a soft look as he nodded, “Of course. You’re always welcome to come back. I can even show you around to other rooms if you ever want.” I nodded at his words. “That sounds really cool. I’d love to see them. I’d love to see this whole place,” I told him as cooly as I could. The one thing I could not do right now was raise suspicion. “When we get back to the front desk we can set a time and date!” He offered cheerfully. Once again I nodded, this time a bright smile beaming across my face. “I’d like that.
I couldn’t help but mentally chuckle at the situation though. I don’t know why after all this time everyone still thinks I’m just so sweet and innocent. Sam offering to show me around like a father would show his child around his work place on bring your kid to work day simply confirmed that thought even more. Little does he know how hard it’s going to bite him in the butt. I’m going to get my boyfriend out of this Pandora’s Vault…. If it’s the last thing I do.
There you go! I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like! Maybe even reply or a reblog?
#mcyt#mcyt imagine#mcyt one shot#mcyt x reader#dream#dreamwastaken#dream imagine#dream one shot#dreamwastaken imagine#dream x reader#dreamsmp#dream smp#dreamsmp imagine#dream smp imagine#ray writings#ray ray writings#ray-ray-writings#visiting hemlock#requested
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The Soup Incident [Episode 22]
Random Jin Guy: hey u know ur sister
WWX: everyone's mom? best person in the world? beset by terminal heterosexuality? rings a bell
LWJ: i'm sure this is more important than a war
Random Jin Guy: something happened with j
WWX: [overrunning other line] I MUST GO MY MEDDLING IS REQUIRED
Random Nie Guy: oop there he go
LWJ: wow this sounds serious
WWX: what horrors will i find what trauma will this compound what cruelty will i be met with also how did i know exactly where to go
WWX: OH. YOU.
JZX: gross
JYL: oh an audience perfect i'm sure this will de-escalate things
WWX: can we solve this with castration? tell me we can
JYL: no thanks i'd still like the option if it's all the same to u
WWX: it's not let me remove his body parts
JZX: like i'd let u near me u classless hellion
JYL: listen life hasn't been like the greatest lately had a lot of shitty carriage rides i'd like things to chill out and by things i mean namely u in this moment can we go now pls i have an appointment to cry into my pillow that i'm missing
WWX: omg noooo i'll behave i'm here to support u i'll be impartial
JYL: i don't believe that for a single second tho hun
WWX: impartial to how mUCH BLOOD I'M GONNA GET EVERYWHERE HOW IS IT EVERY TIME I SEE UR STUPID FACE I HATE U MORE fuck u u piece o shit
JYL: and there it is
JZX: [angry sleeve flap of disdainful eloquence]
WWX: wtf
JYL: yeah he's good at those
JYL: honey ur not helping urself here he beat the shit out of u BEFORE he marinated in dark energy for 3 months pls use ur words and ur brain
WWX: WAT DID UR SLEEVE SAY TO ME BITCH
JYL: can we just go pls i like to not be reminded of exactly how much stupid i willingly allow into my life
WWX: but shijie M U R D E R
JYL: inexplicably i still want to marry him so no thank u
JZX: oh look mianmian's here
MM: u fuckin bet i am u dipshit
WWX: wtaf is wrong with him
MM: ok listen LISTEN i know i feel u trust me
JZX: time to return to the arrogance corner
WWX: UR YOUNG MASTER'S A BITCH
JYL: a-xian n o
MM: no he totally is u right
JYL: well then he's MY bitch :(
MM: why do i bother to stay up late to practice conversations with u if u don't bother to try all that time wasted am i supposed to cover for u now?
JZX: bold of u to assume u can but go for it still don't know why tf ur all here just wanna eat my soup
WWX: HEY I HAVE A FUN GAME IT'S CALLED HOW MUCH OF CHENQING CAN WE FIT INTO JIN ZIXUAN quick someone pick an orifice
JYL: gross
MM: tempting
LWJ: oh hey i'm here now i walk slow oh shit the nice jiang is crying who would hurt the nice jiang?
MM: ok so u know how ur sister makes soup?
JYL: i never really stop it's a little pathological at this point maybe i should talk to someone...
LWJ: oh more heterosexual antics wei ying's achilles heel best wait outside thank god Xichen is mostly functional and gay as the day is long
MM: so she makes soup right? 2 goes to you chuckleheads and the third goes to emporer perpetual foot-in-mouth over here
JZX: [buffering]
MM: jfc why do i even try
WWX: DID HE INSULT UR S O U P ?!
JYL: sorta i am soup and soup is me
MM: so anyway
JZX: [overrunning previous line] HOLD UP I THOUGHT RANDOM SERVANT NUMBER 62 BROUGHT ME THE SOUP THAT'S NATIVE TO YUNGMENG WHERE MY EX-FIANCE GREW UP
WWX: ur in love with an idiot
JYL: i'm in love with an idiot
MM: I STG UR HEAD IS FILLED WITH JUST HAIRBALLS AND LINT HOW ARE U STILL BREATHING
MM: SHE MAKES SOUP. SHE'S THE SOUP LADY. ASK PEOPLE WHAT THEY THINK OF WHEN U SAY YANLI AND THEY'LL SAY KINDNESS. A N D S O U P . and her murder-brothers but that's not the point rn
JZX: ...u made me soup
MM: i'm so fucking sorry pls marry him i need a competent woman to hang around with i'm getting dumber by the day
WWX: seriously this guy u love this guy?
JYL: xianxian pls romantic idiocy runs in our family it's practically traditional
JYL: i mean...yes i have 2 coping mechanisms; soup and crying neither of them are working rn tho help i don't unlock righteous fury until level 25
JZX: wow she made me soup
WWX: of course she made u soup u human inner-thigh chafe show us the flashback mianmian
MM: [off screen] oh yeah that roll the tape jeeves
[ENTER FLASHBACK]
JYL: i made u soup bb
JZX: ur not servant number 62 go fuck urself
JYL: wut
[END FLASHBACK]
WWX: NO FURTHER QUESTIONS UR HONOR
Random Jin Guy Who Brought Wuxian: perhaps this was a [cursive writing] Mistake™
JZX: ouchie i can twirly fight countless puppets can't dodge a punch of the life of me cultivation jesus that's gonna leave a mark
JYL: GOD I WISH THIS WAS MORE CATHARTIC how does this always happen? who raised this kid? oh right me
Group of Random Jin Guards: we are all well intentioned but ultimately expendable extras fear us
Random Jin Guard: UNHAND HIM FIEND
WWX: cool imma write u a song it's called Don't Care Didn't Ask Gonna Kill Everyone In This Tent Over Soup in b flat tootly toot here comes the murder flute
Random Jin Guards attacked by resentful energy: [keyboard smash]
LWJ: wait hold on that's his shit starting music has shit been started?? wEi YiNg
WWX: are u prepared for the journey i'm about to send u on little man
JZX: i'm actually good here thanks
[unintelligible teenage screaming]
MM: HEY LISTEN U CAN'T DO THAT MURDER IS BAD and i still like him i sympathize but like...u can't
WWX: the semi corporeal black smoke demons that sublet my soul tell me that it's fine sooo
JYL: a-xian if u kill him now i will have put up with so much bs for n o t h i n g
LWJ: take a deep breath us ur words what in the actual hell is going on
WWX: fuck u ur not my therapist
LWJ: u do not have a therapist never has someone so clearly NOT had a therapist except maybe jiang cheng
WWX: SOUP MURDER IS GOING ON
LWJ: wut
JYL: pls understand it's just as dumb as you think
LWJ: ... i refuse to let soup related crimes of passion be something my future husband is known for u stop that
WWX: THEN I'M LEAVING
LWJ: wow
JYL: we're both in love with idiots
JZX: am i still gonna keep getting soup?
[this is a thing i do sometimes so if you would like to see more...]
Scene suggested by @nagisachan1!! (I’m so sorry I forgot to tag/credit you when I posted this!)
#my stuff#cql crack#has the word soup lost its meaning for anyone else yet?#the transcript for this is saved under 'i'm at soup.docx'#brief summary#not so brief#oh well#I swear i'm working on the episode 4 one it's giving me HASSLES#please ignore the fact that I spelled emperor wrong i do that about half the time anyway#my edit
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good
elide x lorcan, modern/neighbours au, fluff + tension, word count: 3515
There hadn’t been a new resident in the building for a while, but the girl seemed nice enough. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she moved in next door, considering that the unit next to his had been vacant for some time.
When he’d received the email from his landlord, Lorcan supposed he was simply used to only having to share one wall with someone and that with a little time, he’d get used to it.
He met her the day she was moving in, bright and early on a Tuesday morning. He’d held the door open for who he assumed were her friends – a tall blonde with wickedly electric blue eyes and a shorter brunette with upturned emerald eyes. Lorcan had nodded at their thanks and stepped out of the building. Then his sight had set on her, Elide Lochan. It was pure muscle memory on which his feet propelled him forward. He’d been so entranced by her that he’d been too late to prevent her from twisting her right ankle as she tried to save herself from falling off of the moving truck’s ramp, but he’d been able to give her a nudge so that she didn’t eat shit on the asphalt road.
“Ooh, fuck,” the woman said, a grimace twisting her delicate features. She hopped to balance on her other foot and sat down on the edge of the truck bed. She glanced up at him, muted gratitude flashing across her angular eyes, almost as dark as his. “Thanks,” she bit out.
“Welcome,” Lorcan replied. He nodded towards her injured ankle, “I can take a look for ya, ‘m a physiotherapist.”
Her brows arched up and she ran an eye up and down him. Lorcan resisted the urge to straighten his posture and his skin felt like it was tingling beneath his clothes. “Really? Don’t look like one.”
“Yeah? What do I look like, then?”
She shrugged, tilting her chin back to properly assess him. “Hmm… a boxer or something like that. Gang enforcer.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, s’not me. I mean, I’m a boxer’s physiotherapist, but I don’t fight.”
“Really? Who’s the fighter?”
“Ya got a lot of questions for someone whose name ya don’t know.”
She laughed and extended her hand towards him, “Fine. I’m Elide Lochan.”
Lorcan’s hand dwarfed hers and he could feel his calluses scraping against hers. Interesting. “Lorcan Salvaterre.” They dropped their hands and he gestured towards her ankle again, “Want me to check now, Elide Lochan?”
“Sure,” she chuckled, slipping her faded black Van off and taking off her sock, too, as it covered her ankle. Elide put them to the side and reached down to roll the hem of her overalls up.
He lightly wrapped his hand around her heel and lifted her leg to examine it, fingers gently prodding the already swelling skin. Despite feeling her eyes burn into him, Lorcan didn’t look up. “Alright,” he slid his hand up her achilles tendon and rested his other palm against the sole of her foot, locking it in place, “bend ya knee for me, yeah? Tell me when it hurts.”
Lorcan flicked his eyes between her ankle and face, tracking her pain. Elide grit her teeth as she bent her knee without moving her ankle and stopped after only a few degrees of movement. “There, it hurts there.”
He hummed and nodded, straightening her leg. “‘kay, move it inwards.” Again, she could only move it a few centimetres before the pain made her wince. Lorcan nodded, tilting his head to the right. Elide followed his wordless instruction and was able to move her foot further.
“Is it bad?”
“Could be worse, but yeah, s’not great, Lochan.” Lorcan tapped his finger against the swelling on the outside of her ankle, “See this, s’really swelling up, so probably a grade two sprain, which means there’s a partial tear in the ligament.” He gently put her foot down and looked up at her, her eyes wide. “Hey, s’ok. Sounds worse than it is, promise.”
“You said I tore a ligament!”
“Said partial, and these types of sprains are really common,” he told her, his voice even. “There’s gonna be some bruising later and you’re gonna have trouble walking for a couple weeks, so what you’re gonna do is you’re going to get ya friends to move the rest of ya boxes, you’re gonna sit down and keep it elevated and iced – twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the next two days, yeah?”
Elide nodded, the panic melting from her face. “Then what? I can’t just sit around for the next two weeks.”
Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head, “Ya got a compression brace?”
She shook her head, worrying her bottom lip. “No.”
“That’s fine, they’re pretty cheap down the street at Brullo’s,” he told her. “s’a gym, but they sell stuff like that. Get one of ya friends to go and get it, yeah? I really mean rest for the next two days.”
Just then, her friends arrived and their eyes snapped back and forth over the scene they were confronted with. The blonde rose a single brow, her hand cocked on her hip. “Well, this is cosy.”
Lorcan blinked. It wasn’t even nine in the morning.
“Shut it, Aelin,” Elide said, rolling her eyes. “I sprained my ankle and my new neighbour here is a physiotherapist. His name is Lorcan.”
Aelin looked at him as the other brunette shook her head and walked around her to check on Elide. “Really? What qualifications do you have? Where do you work?”
“‘m a licenced physiotherapist. Work for a private client.”
“Hmm.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped back from Elide, deciding it would be better to address her other friend. “I’m Lorcan.”
“Lysandra,” the woman told him as she helped Elide with her shoe. “Please ignore Aelin. She was neglected as a child and now has attention seeking behaviour issues.” Lysandra’s words were light with laughter and Lorcan chuckled quietly. “Is there anything we can do for Elide?”
“Yeah, make sure she rests and ices her ankle for the next two days. I told her, but it’s twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the icing and make sure ya get some sorta compression brace.”
Lysandra nodded, “Ok, we’ll do that. What if it’s still this bad in two days?”
“Knock on my door, s’unit 3D.”
“I’ll do that,” Elide said, something in her voice making him pause and meet her stare. “Salvaterre.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Lorcan replied, the tip of his tongue rolling against his lower lip. He caught the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Lochan.”
Lorcan parked his car in front of his building and picked up his bag as he got out. When he stood, he arched his back, hearing his spine pop in a couple different spots. “Fuck,” he groaned in sweet relief. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and locked the car before walking up to the lobby doors.
As he slid his key into the lock, he glanced around, wondering if he would see Elide. He’d learnt a few days after she moved in that she was a baker and owned a local bakery-slash-coffee shop when she’d come to thank him with a box of freshly made wild blueberry and pastry cream tarts. They were easily the most delicious things he’d ever eaten and after the first bite, he swore he fell in love a little bit.
With his late schedule, he had to go to Fenrys’ fights which were always scheduled during the evening, but he would often run into Elide on her way home from the bakery. It had become routine for them to chat on their way up and smile at each other as they slipped into their apartments, their doors often closing with the same click at the same time.
Lorcan didn’t see her and his heart sunk a little in disappointment. He crossed over to the fire escape instead of the elevator and walked the six flights of stairs up to his floor.
The moment he opened the door at the third level, he could hear music playing, albeit muffled. He frowned, it wasn’t like the tenants to blast their music. Elide was silent and kept to herself, except for when they both happened to be out on their balconies. Lorcan liked those evenings, he liked sitting out there and enjoying his dinner while Elide had hers. They’d quickly found that they could talk about anything together and it was as easy as breathing. Within the month, give or take, that she’d been here, her ankle had healed up nicely, but there was still lingering stiffness and an ache if she was on it too long.
As Lorcan got closer to his apartment, the music grew louder too. He quickly realised that it was coming from underneath Elide’s door and figured she had friends over or something like that. Lorcan let himself into his house and the music was louder inside. He toed off his shoes, hung up his jacket, and put his work bag down. He walked down the front hall, pulling the elastic from his hair, which fell out of the high bun he’d shoved it in and tumbled down to his hips.
Lorcan dragged his hand through his hair, shaking it out and massaging the kinks out. The longer he listened to the music, he realised that it wasn’t happy music, not the type of song one would listen to with friends.
He stepped closer to their shared wall and leaned towards it, unable to figure out the lyrics. The melody was still blasting and Lorcan glanced at his oven’s clock. It was almost midnight, so she couldn’t be up for too much longer, surely. Lorcan decided that he’d go to the building’s gym for the next hour and by the time he returned, Elide’s little music thing would be over.
He moved to his room to get changed and in his bedroom, he could hear Elide singing along, loud and angry.
“...lost my mind, I’ve spent the night cry-ing on the flo-or of my bedroom, but you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for yo-o-ou…”
Lorcan smirked, shaking his head softly. A few minutes later, he was changed and tying his high-top Chucks, winding the laces around his ankles once before hitching a neat bow. He grabbed his headphones and phone from the pants he’d discarded, and he got up, moving towards his door.
As he walked to the stairs, fitting his headphones over his ears, Lorcan glanced back at her door, wondering what had happened for her to be cathartically shouting along to what could only be a breakup song.
He shrugged to himself and connected his phone to his headphones, playing his own music loud enough to drown hers out. Lorcan disappeared into the stairwell and jogged down to the gym.
Exactly two hours later, Lorcan stepped out of the elevator, his shoulders and deltoids stiffening from the workout he’d just finished. He paused his music and pulled his headphones off as he stopped in front of his door, pausing when he realised that music was still playing. Lorcan checked his phone to make sure that he’d paused the song and frowned in confusion when he confirmed that it wasn’t his music.
But if it wasn’t his, then it could only be… Lorcan snapped his head up, staring incredulously down at Elide’s door. She was still playing music and the melody matched the same song he’d heard before he’d gone. Sweet fuck, something was really wrong.
He wanted to go check on her, but Lorcan wasn’t sure if they were there yet in their young friendship.
Sighing, Lorcan just resolved to suck it up for the night. It had to end at some point, he told himself.
<3<3<3
Some point ended up being four o’clock in the morning. At first, Lorcan had thought that he’d gone deaf or something. He’d fallen asleep minutes after and his body, like always, forced him up three hours later.
To wake himself up, Lorcan had gone to the corner shop down the street and bought a cup of their coffee, which was practically tar, and a pack of cigarettes. The man didn’t smoke much anymore, but the nicotine would wake him up like nothing else so he’d given in.
He was sitting on the edge of the planter box outside the building, sipping on his coffee and smoking a cigarette. The smoke was bitter and alongside the coffee, Lorcan was feeling marginally conscious. It was enough to interact with humans, so he supposed it was good enough.
The lobby door opened, but Lorcan didn’t bother looking over until he heard a familiar voice.
“Oh. I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Mornin’ to ya too, ‘lide,” he said, his voice quiet. Lorcan looked up at her, drinking in the sight of her. He’d learnt quickly that overalls were a staple in Elide’s wardrobe. She was wearing a black tank top beneath her dungarees and her black hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. A red bandana was tied around her head, matching her tote bag.
She chuckled, looking down at her black Vans. “Hello.”
“Hey,” he replied, grimacing as he drank some of his coffee. “And I don’t.” At Elide’s look of confusion, he elaborated and took a drag from his smoke. “Smoke, anymore. I quit a couple years back, but it helps wake me up.”
Elide nodded, running a cursory eye over his slightly disheveled appearance. “Hmm, you don’t look so good. Rough sleep?”
He snorted, tapping his finger against the cig to knock the ash off. “Yeah, had a shit sleep. Some girl was playing her music real loud, ya hear it?”
She squeaked and blush as her eyes filled with guilt. Lorcan smirked and finished his cigarette. He stubbed it and tucked the filter back into the pack, pulling out the gum he’d bought and taking a piece. “O-oh, you, uh, heard that?”
“‘lil bit, yeah.”
“It kept you up?”
He shrugged, “S’not a big deal, I’ve had worse.”
“Still,” Elide said, her cheeks pink, “I’m sorry. If you want- if you’re free, you can come to work with me? I’m sure my coffee is better than whatever that is.” She tilted on her tip-toes, hopeful. “And it’s free.” Lorcan stood up, finishing his shitty coffee. He shuddered as he swallowed it and Elide laughed, tilting towards the sidewalk. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Sure is,” Lorcan grinned slightly.
“Right then.”
They fell into step and walked to her bakery, which was only a ten minute stroll away.
When they got to her shop, Elide showed him to the table closest to the counter so that they could be as close as possible throughout the day. Despite that, they didn’t see each other too much. Lorcan read through a few newspapers and the magazines Elide offered to him. Once in a while, she would come by to drop off a coffee for him, usually an americano with an extra shot in it. She brought him various pastries too, always lingering until he took his first bite and praised her for her talent.
Elide closed her shop at four and let Luca, her employee, go home early. “Wanna help me with the dishes?”
Lorcan grinned and got up, “‘Course I do.” He followed her into the kitchen and he washed the dishes while she dried them and put them away. “D’ya have a good day?”
She nodded, “Yeah, I did.” Elide snuck a glance at his profile, “Did you?”
“I did.” He paused, a teasing grin curling his lips. “All the free shit really made up for last night.”
Elide gasped and hit his shoulder, trying not to gawk when her ineffectual blow was met with pure muscle. “I already told you I was sorry for that!”
“Just teasin’ ya, Elide,” he chuckled, looking at her through the corner of his eye.
“Mm-hmm,” she replied, shaking her head at him.
They continued in a comfortable silence until all the dishes were done and the rest of the kitchen was clean. Elide pushed Lorcan towards the big counter, “Take those stools down and I’ll get something for dinner.”
“Well, shit, Lochan, ya don’t gotta do all that,” Lorcan protested, his eyes wide. “Really, ‘m not even mad ‘bout last night. I wasn’t ever mad, I swear.”
She laughed, shaking her head, “I know, I’m just teasin’ ya.” He narrowed his eyes at her as she cackled, throwing his words back at him. “Gods, man, sit already! I’m starving and it’s not like I’m going to kick you out to find your own dinner.”
He gave in and took the metal stools down, putting them in front of the counter. Elide bustled back with two beers and two sandwiches. The food was from the industrial fridge in the back and the drinks were from the staff fridge.
They sat next to each other. Both of Elide’s feet were on the spindle, while Lorcan only rested one on the bar and his other leg was stretched out, his heel against the floor beneath Elide’s stool. Dinner was a wonderfully domestic, simple affair. Like everything else Elide made, the sandwiches were phenomenal and Lorcan told her so, around a mouthful of said sandwich.
Elide laughed at his muffled voice, her head tipped back. He swallowed and stared, captivated by the sight of her joy. Lorcan didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring when she calmed and he smirked at her blush, casually draining the rest of his beer. His eyes tracked the way she watched him, swallowing once.
He put the glass bottle down, now empty. Nodding his chin to her bottle, which was also empty, Lorcan rubbed his fingertips up and down his jaw. “Done there?”
“Yeah,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.
He nodded again and got up, gathering their trash. Lorcan tossed it as Elide got her things ready to go. He followed her out, flicking off the lights when she told him to. As he waited for her to lock up, Lorcan stood on the curb, head bent with his eyes on her, his hands shoved in his pockets.
Night had fallen and that was the only reason he reached his hand out to her, so that she wouldn’t trip over anything. Elide slipped her fingers through his and tugged him with her. He marveled at how naturally their hands fit together, her thumb pressed against the first knuckle of his index finger.
They didn’t talk much as they walked home. Somehow, their steps matched each other’s despite their not-so-little size difference.
They held hands all the way to her door and when she let go, his hand felt strange, a bit useless, too. Lorcan leaned his shoulder against the wall and tilted his head to the side, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “How loud is it gonna be tonight? Just tryin’ to plan around ya heartbreak.”
Elide scoffed, flicking her eyes upwards. “It was hardly heartbreak. Don’t you think breakup songs are kind of cathartic?”
He shrugged, “Depends.”
She rolled her eyes at his taciturnity. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, it’d slipped free during the day. “Besides, there’s better ways of being too loud and pissing off the neighbours.” Elide looked up at him, shifting closer to him.
Lorcan arched a brow, making a show of slowly surveying her, eyes clinging to the curve of her hips. “Oh, yeah? Need a partner for that, hmm?”
It was Elide’s turn to tilt her head to the side and shrug, “I don’t think so. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
His pulse jumped, heart beating faster than it had two seconds ago. Lorcan ran his tongue along the undersides of his teeth and pulled it back to the roof of his mouth as he grinned, “Oh, I’m sure ya can, but I’m tryin’ this new thing, ya see.”
“Really? And what’s that?”
He raised his chin in challenge, delighted to see the heat and desire storming in her eyes. “Bein’ a gentleman.” Elide laughed at that, but Lorcan continued. “See, so I gotta lend ya a hand.”
Elide reached out, her fingers wandering innocently up his sternum. “Just one? And just your hand?”
“Lochan,” he murmured, letting her pull him down when her hand curls in the collar of his shirt, “you can have whatever that ‘lil heart desires.”
She sharply tugged and then they were kissing, weeks of tension and hesitation leading up to this. It wasn’t nice or neat, but neither cared as their mouths fit together. Lorcan’s hand rose to cup her jaw, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head up. Elide parted her lips for his tongue and moaned softly. She reached her hand backwards and twisted the door handle, shoving the door open. “Good.”
<3<3<3
an: i wanted 2 write smthng with good 4 u but im a softie now n i cant write breakup fics 😭
@mythicaitt @eyllweambassador @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @jadeaffliction @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @gracie-rosee @myshadowsingeraz @firestarsandseneschals @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @hellasblessed @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr @rowaelinismyotp @sassyhobbits @swankii-art-teacher @januarystears
#elorcan#elide x lorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#isa writes#nalgenewhore#thanx 2 this all of my targeted ads r abt compression braces lolz
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Kaeya x reader, nonsexual body worship
Warnings: nudity, kissing of feet (not at all fetishized), heavily implied sex, explicit mention of intimate body parts, if you tag this as foot fetish I'm blocking your ass /srs
Reblogs are appreciated!
Blue hair, blue eye, blue vest. A blue gem glinted in the moonlight, leaving flecks of starlight across his cheek. Candlelight flickered across his features, bringing the soft indent of his dimple in and out of view. He was smiling softly, eyes calm and loving.
His calmness was a pleasant surprise, given his normal reaction to you stripping before him. You hadn't done anything special, only going a bit slower than usual to gauge his new and unexpected reactions. Even as your undergarments hit the floor, his lovesick eyes never shifted. When all clothing was shed, you took a moment to truly look at him.
He had pulled a wooden chair to the foot of the bed, posture relaxed. A blue vest, cape, and pelt were draped nicely over the chair's back, leaving his low-cut button-up, tight black pants, and field boots. Your lip quirked upwards at his shirt being cuffed; it was nothing out of the ordinary but ever since you expressed your appreciation of his exposed forearms it felt more special seeing his sleeves rolled up.
"So," you breathed, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "This isn't our usual routine."
He laughed, lips settling into a lazy grin. "Hmm, check me out all you like but we're doing something a bit different today, lovely."
The nickname made your heart swell and he could see it on your face.
"Get on the bed, darling. Nothing fancy, just get comfortable over the sheets."
The mood shifted into something more intimate than carnal. Your heart wasn't pounding as it normally was when he uttered that first command, but it was clenching and soaring all at once.
You settled atop the sheets face-up, elbows supporting you in order to look at him. He rose from his seat and leaned over you. With a stern hand, he pushed you down, laying you flat against the bed.
"Now don't you move, love. Let me do the moving for you," he said before settling back into his chair.
Your brow raised at his even tone, but you were slowly getting accustomed to the reverent mood he was setting. A contented sigh parted your lips and your eyes drifted shut.
He hummed in satisfaction. A smile made it's way onto your face as you heard him open what sounded like a large jar. His hand suddenly and gently grasped your left ankle, causing you to tense a bit before relaxing once more. He lifted your leg a bit, cradling your Achilles' tendon.
"You've been working so hard, my love. Helping so many people," he began before bringing his other hand to your heel. "Even the knights have heard praises of your work for the Adventurer's Guild."
His free hand slathered something, presumably the contents of the jar, onto your heel and up the bottom of your foot and began working it into your skin. "I've missed you. And while I may be a bit upset my favorite adventurer doesn't seem to have time for me between commissions, the kindness you've done for Mond cannot go unrewarded."
Once he finished working the oil into your skin, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bottom of your foot, where you knew there was a decent-sized freckle. It tickled, and even though your eyes were still closed you could feel how he smiled at your abrupt giggle. He set your leg down gently, then repeated his actions on your right foot, this time pressing his lips to the dark mark on your heel. The bed shifted under his sudden weight, feeling one hand dip the bed next to your leg and the other move to the back of your left knee. Bringing his lips to your calf, he laid his lips on your shin.
"I'd forgotten about that one," you half-mumbled, drunk on the overwhelming feeling of his love.
You felt his smile just before he pulled up just enough that his warm breath still rolled over your leg. Wordlessly, he moved to kiss your thigh, hardly pausing to brush his lips against the freckle on your left knee. The hand under your knee glided upwards, coaxing your leg to shift and grant him access to you. His thumb caressed the inside of your thigh in slow, deliberate strokes, all meant to tease the sensitive skin. He crooned at the goosebumps his actions produced.
You felt his hot breath quicken ever so slightly as he neared your sex, grazing his open lips over the dark mark that rested just where your sensitivity began. A gasp escaped your lips, jaw slack in anticipation. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, your chest heated, body responding to Kaeya's presence— until he lazily pulled away, whispering a laugh. Your eyes slowly opened and you looked down at him.
"Tch, lovely! So impatient," he huffed, a large grin on his face. As he dipped his head once more, you expected his lips on you again, but they didn't come. Instead, he pressed his nose to the soft tissue between your thigh and hip, heaving a sigh. For a moment, you believed his heavy breath as contentment, until he spoke once more.
You strained to hear it. "Please," he whispered. "Let me have you." Heart throbbing, your right hand carded through his hair, eliciting another, lighter sigh. Once he gathered himself, it was as if nothing had happened. He raised his head once more after placing your hand back onto the bed, keeping his fingers loosely wrapped around your wrist. He looked up at you with clear intent to continue, but you could see the longing in his smile. You let him resume his doting wordlessly, closing your eyes again at the firm kiss he pressed to the freckle outside your hip.
He shifted to straddle your hips, just low enough that any stimulation wouldn't come from him. Carefully, his grip on your wrist tightened and brought your wrist to his mouth. He kissed the freckles up your arm, leaning over you as his affection went up your body. Wrist, elbow, bicep, shoulder. His breath teased your neck before his head dipped to your chest to lay a kiss on the freckle that rested on your chest. Lips open, he left a gentle trail of wetness before breathing an open-mouthed kiss beside your nipple. He smiled at the way you arched into him, enjoying the momentary tango of push-and-pull, never pulling away but never giving you the kind of solid contact you craved.
All at once, his presence over you left. Opening your eyes, he was still seated above you, this time reaching for your left hand. You met him halfway, curling your fingers between his. His expression softened (an impressive feat considering how star struck he looked already) as he ran his thumb over your pointer finger before pressing a kiss to the freckle that rested there. Another smile, but this time he looked into your eyes.
His deep blue gaze pulled you in like the depths of the sea, broken by crystal highlights of moonlight filtering through his earring. Flecks of dust floated through the air only served to make him look more ethereal, as if the world itself had become a churning mass of blue and he was your refuge. He continued down your arm, and chuckled at the mirroring of your marks. Wrist. Elbow. Bicep. Shoulder. Nestling his nose into your neck, he paused. You were happy, comfortable underneath him and content to receive his affection— he quickly attacked the four freckles on your neck, sharing light laughter between you both.
You felt his wide smile relax against your skin before he trailed his nose up your jaw to breathe hot air onto your ear and nip the freckle there with his sharp incisors, causing you to shudder in pleasure. His presence was heavy now, his head casting a shadow over your closed eyelids. He softly pecked the last freckle, on your forehead, before you felt him settle above you.
"...Hey."
You cracked an eye open to meet his. "Hey," you giggled.
He let out an airy laugh before wrapping his arms around you and breathing you in. Head in your neck, he spoke. "I love you," he whispered, voice veiling the same broken tone he'd had earlier. Again, your hands were in his hair, and you held him close. He'd been so kind to you and you thought to return the favor. You allowed him a short respite before flipping him beneath you, and for a moment he looked surprised before his suave walls reared their heads.
"I'm going to repay your kindness, my dear captain."
"Are you now? Am I to expect repayment in full?"
"No," you said in mock-thought. "With interest."
A hand trailing down his low-buttoned shirt slowly began to unbutton it. Just before the mood shifted, a loving smile spread across your face at his hearty laugh.
You'd gotten up for a drink of water after all was said and done. Facing him, you laid down.
"No," he mumbled, half into the pillow, "turn around."
A strange look was the only protest given. His playful embrace took you by surprise.
"I can't believe I missed two!" He kissed the last two dark marks on your right shoulderblade. You two stayed like that the entire night, feeling you'd properly made up for lost time.
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enthusiastic dissent (E, Succession, Roman/Gerri)
So these are a couple of scenes of an extremely sketchy Roman's fixation on Gerri set basically right before the dickpic reveal. I have somewhere I'm going with this, but I kind of got mugged by certain fics I won't name. This is not even remotely complete, just a teaser, I guess. Anyway: Roman makes a phone call and has a meeting! These are normal human things, which Roman apparently can't do without touching his dick.
Roman rests back on the bed in the hotel room, contemplates his phone, and flicks through his contacts. No response from Gerri on any of the pics. Figures. It's actually hotter that she doesn't. He knows she's looking, and being denied that attention is almost as good as being given it.
He tilts his head back and dials Gerri's number, propping the phone on his ear as he waits.
It rings. It connects.
"Hellooooo," he declares. "Are you busy? Are you checking your phone while getting dicked down by Laurie? Tell him hi."
No response. He moves the phone to see if the call disconnected, but she's still there. Someone's there. He ignores the paranoia.
"So, hey," he goes on. "You should probably know playing hard to get just makes me hard, so if you want to say no, you're really, really gonna have to say no."
Nothing. "You know how the wokescolds say 'enthusiastic consent'?" Roman doesn't even question how much he's enjoying this. "I need enthusiastic dissent. Something convincing. None of this namby-pamby nice old lady shit. Break my heart. Dare you."
Well, if someone else was on the line, they probably would've said something by now. It has to be her. Or a butt-dial. He doubts that. "Let's see." He considers. "I'd probably come if you physically assaulted me," he says, "so that's out. Really fucking mean works for me, too. I don't know, aim for parental issues. That's my Achilles heel. Fucking dipped in god-juice except when Dad backhands me. Ha, ha," he says cheerily.
Even that doesn't get a response. It's starting to tingle along his skin. She's there, listening, judging, waiting for him. She won't admit it, but she wants to hear him come. She wants to know he's wrecked on a bed just from nothing. He fucking knows it.
"You're fucking fantastic," Roman says, and unzips his pants, sidling them off enough to get at his dick. "You're all fucking – you want to hear me come, don't you? God."
Absolutely nothing. He'd gotten a chub even before he got his pants off, but now it only takes a handful of strokes and a dose of lotion before his breaths start to quicken. "If you were here," he manages, "here, fucking – if I knew you were right fucking there – " Shit, shit. He's not making any sense, but he's so fucking hot right now. "You want me. You want to know I'm fucking rock-hard for you, don't you? I'm a disgusting piece of shit and you want me to know I'm not worth a second of your goddamn time."
He's too close. He tries to slow it down. He needs this to last. "Don't say a fucking word," he breathes. "Just listen. Just fucking think it. I can read your mind. Telepath shit, I swear."
He's out of his mind. "Fuck," he grinds out, and groans. "Just a dirty fucking – " He can't think. "Just a fucking pet you kick. Fucking kick me. God." He loses it, he can feel her on the other end, he wants her, fuck. He comes, desperate, overwhelmed, and shakes as he cleans himself up to toss away the evidence.
"So?" Roman asks, breathless.
The call disconnects. He smiles.
---
Gerri isn't the best part of Roman's day. It's not like that. The absence of Gerri has its perks, too. She ignores him because she can't be bothered with someone as disgusting as him, maybe, which is good. Maybe she can barely tolerate looking him in the face because she's literally heard him at his filthiest, again and again, and her skin crawls just in the way his does when he thinks about it. The theoreticals are fun and all, it's just, you know, sometimes you need a little something to remind you that someone even realizes you exist. The fantasy is the fantasy, but it's just fucking whackadoo stalker shit unless there's some meat to it.
He moves into her office, hands tucked into his pockets, and shrugs at the look she gives him. "Busy tonight?" he asks. "Thought we could go over some things."
"Like what?" Gerri asks, and types.
Roman looks at her. "Fucking – GoJo and whatever," he bullshits.
She tilts her head, but glances up. "I thought you were feeling fairly confident about that."
"I'm not not feeling confident." An unpleasant feeling is creeping its way up his spine. "I just thought, hey, maybe I could bring you in."
"Matsson isn't the sort of person who would listen to me, Roman."
"Well, I mean, terms and shit." This is going pretty badly. "I don't know. Maybe we could talk about it. Whatever. I wasn't necessarily going to bring a fucking – " He gestures. "Agenda or whatever."
"I'd have to check my schedule." That's a no. The unpleasant feeling turns to a burning sensation, and he scratches the back of his neck to relieve the discomfort that's starting to give way to arousal. "What were you thinking?" Gerri goes on, and considers him.
Shit, she knows. She knows. He looks at her, astonished, then shakes his head and shifts. "I don't know. Fucking – strategy meeting. My place, maybe."
"You don't want to just do this now?" Gerri asks. She's watching him. His breath is caught in his chest. She has him trapped like a bug between her hands. Squish me. Jesus Christ. "I could carve out some time if you have specifics."
"I could, uh," Roman says rapidly, "holy shit." He gets out his phone. "I can access the drive from here." He sits across from her. What the fuck is he doing? What has she fucking talked him into? "So I was looking at some of GoJo's numbers, and I don't think they're being completely honest, which, who is, but anyway – "
"Uh-huh." Gerri's leaned halfway forward, and Roman focuses on his phone, because the energy she's giving off (on purpose, there's no way this isn't on purpose) is too fucking much for him to handle face-to-face and with his pants on. "Why do you think Matsson would lie to you?"
"Oh, he's not lying to me, he's lying to everyone," Roman says, and he dares to look Gerri in the face. She knows. There's no denying she knows. He freezes, then tilts his head back as he gains the slightest bit of control over his body. "Do you have any booze?" he asks. "Could use a pick-me-up."
"It's nine AM," Gerri says mildly.
"Which is ten PM in Shanghai, so really, we're more than gravy," Roman says. "Come on, live a little." He holds her gaze. "What's your schedule look like? Three minutes of old-man-fucking at ten PM, then two hours of disappointment before you slip on your nightie and sleep four hours dreaming of me?"
"Oh, Roman," Gerri says, with that sigh, that perfect sigh. He breathes, caught again. "What do you think you're doing?"
"You, hopefully," Roman says, and kicks one leg over the other on his chair. "So?"
"Send me those GoJo numbers." Gerri gives away nothing. At some level, he's terrified, but he's already getting hard, which are definitely connected systems and he's never pretended otherwise. "Anything to say for yourself?"
Oh, shit. That's the real thing. That's an opening. He sits forward. "Don't pretend you don't already know," he says, a fascinated tilt to his head.
Gerri's gaze rakes over him. "Is that all?" she asks, and glances away.
Roman has to come so fucking badly. "So that's a no to booze and GoJo at my place, then?"
"We can talk another time," she dismisses. "If you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind, of course, shit to do," Roman says instantly, and gets up, scrambling to hide his boner from her as best he can, though she knows, of course she knows. Seeing her look upon him in this fucking state might murder him on the spot. He backs out of her office, pockets his phone, and rushes to his bathroom.
He jerks himself so hard it hurts, filthy sounds forced quiet until he can't handle it anymore and grinds out a "Fuck"; oh, he hates himself, he fucking hates himself, and it sends him over the edge to smash into the usual wall of horror.
Good. Fucking fantastic.
He snaps a picture of his dick, come on the tip, and sends it to her. Minutes from our meeting.
That was not a no. That was eye contact, that was body language, that was fucking everything. The dismissal, right in that fucking office, right where everyone could see him losing his fucking mind like the sicko he is, jacking off where he knows they can hear, it's the only time he feels fucking right about himself. He needs her. Everyone thinks he's disgusting; they just blow him off or pretend. Gerri's honest. Gerri knows what he needs.
It's not fun to be smashed flat. It's fun to know you'll be smashed flat, and suffer in the knowing.
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Hmm…perhaps not.
"Don't forget what happened to Icarus," he told me as he packed up his things and left.
"He didn't flap hard enough," I replied.
-Journal 3, 'An Encounter' page
…
“If Icarus could see me now…”
-Journal 3, ‘MY MUSE WAS A MONSTER’ page
(Read more about the myth of Icarus and Daedalus here and here.)
***Tumblr is being funny about the Hyperlinks. I’ll try fixing them later.
…
As someone who is currently studying Classics. I absolutely love it when my favourite pieces of media make reference to folklore and mythology of any kind, but it is especially satisfying when it is Greco-Roman mythology that is being referenced.
…
Even Bill is not immune to the mythology-mania…He references Achilles (and his iconic heel) during his showdown (punching-fest) with the Shacktron in ‘Take Back The Falls’:
“HEY ACHILLES! NICE WORK WITH THE HEEL!”
…
Perhaps it’s just my Classics-brain talking, but it would be so funny if the implication here is that Bill Cipher has, at some point, read The Iliad, and has paid attention long enough to take note of Achilles and the subsequent use of the ‘Achilles heel’ as a popular idiom. Perhaps he met Homer at some point, and even witnessed the composition of the epic? I wonder which side would he root for, the Trojans or the Achaeans? Both? Neither? It’s probably all the same to Bill, humans killing each other in creative ways…
Wait…In referencing Achilles, this implies that he must know of Odysseus as well, and Hector, and Patroclus- (Oh boy…This is going to be a Thing now…)
…
And finally, the pièce de résistance…
Bill fashioned himself as a ‘Muse’ during his meetings with Ford in the Mindscape. A Muse, as in The Nine Muses of Classical Antiquity, goddesses of the sciences, arts and literature. Muse, the root word for music, and museum.
Bill literally went: “Hey, Smart Guy! I’m your own personal God(dess) of Inspiration! Let’s make history together! (Sshhh, don’t tell Clio!)” and Ford…Dear sweet Fordsy never stood a chance after that.
Sing to me of the Six-Fiingered man, Muse. The man who wondered between worlds…Sing of his glory and his grief, his burden and his brilliance. He, who worshipped the Sun, and promised gold, but succumbed to the Stars, and drowned in pools of wing-wax. He, who vowed to endure the trails of All-Wise Axolotl. He, who refused to rest until he himself brought about the end of his once fickle friend, the Eye of False Providence.
#gravity falls#greek mythology#mythology reference#achilles#odysseus#icarus#bill cipher#stanford pines#ford pines#billford
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please take care of yourself! if it's not too much trouble, can i please request yandere riddle, ruggie, azul, and epel with a darling who confessed to them before they could even think of kidnapping/murder/etc? thank you very much!
warnings: general yandere themes,mentions of blood, mentions of death, non consensual drug use
riddle rosehearts
he’s taken off guard, at first. riddle is one to plan out everything, to make sure he has a guideline and follow it- his sudden obsession is no different
perhaps it’s early enough he can still tell himself his emotions were simply a crush, simply the kind of romance others speak of; after all, his darling just waltzed into his arms before his heart could provide thoughts of keeping them to himself, before he could grow jealous of anyone who spoke to them
and yet, instead of the newfound relationship putting a halt onto his tendencies, it does little but speed them up
his plan might have changed, but it will have the same outcome. the way riddle loves is controlling and possessive, by nature; having his darling so available and already close to him just fuels the fire
already being in a relationship just makes his heart grow all that much twisted. as his darling’s boyfriend, he feels entitled to their obedience, to their attention
after all, riddle craves control. he’s been controlled all his life, carefully regulated to be someone his mother wanted him to be; it’s only natural he fights to have absolute control now that he’s free, and this absolute control is just intoxicating when it comes to his darling
perhaps the fact they began to date him before he could develop his true colors makes it even harder for them to accept the relationship is rotten. after all, it began so sweetly- it’s hard to accept the way riddle’s behaviour morphs slowly, the way he forces them to follow his rules, how he tries to monopolize their time; after all, that’s just... that’s just him being him, right...?
it’s so difficult for his darling. they’re in too deep- riddle feels entitled to their everything: after all, it was them who asked for his love, right? as much as he’s tyrannical, he’s also desperate for the affection his own mother never gave him.
he thirsts for power, affection, and reaffirmations; the way he drank up praise and smiled when his darling followed the silly heartslabyul rules at the start of the relationship slowly degrades into his demands to receive affection met by harsh punishment if denied, degrades into him placing so many rules it’s almost impossible for his darling to go a day without being yelled at for their “disobedience” no matter how hard they try
azul ashengrotto
one would think that being confessed to first would soothe azul. his insecurities are his achilles’ heel, after all; growing desperate at the thought of not being enough for his darling, putting on his usual act to impress them. but if they come to him first, even before he can start forging plans to rope them in, then- it should be fine, right?
but it’s not. it’s not fine, and his darling might realize so once it’s too late to escape the octopus’ grasp.
azul is greedy by nature. he wants more money, more contracts, more power over students, more notoriety. it’s not just enough to be dating his darling, not after a while
it’s so easy to fall back onto bad habits for him, questioning if he’s truly enough, if they’re just with him out of pity; soon enough it only takes him spotting his partner smiling to someone else for him to convince himself they’re cheating on him because he’s not enough, for him to assume any moment they aren’t with him they’re actively trying to get away from him
and it’s just painful for his darling, really. it’s not as if they didn’t know azul had a softer, insecure side- but it’s exhausting to deal with him. emotionally draining. to reassure him every time, to have to prove they’re loyal, to prove their love... it’s almost just easier to spend every moment with azul to avoid him making assumptions
and it’s not like they have much of a choice either. if a relationship is 50/50, then azul thinks his darling’s half should be to not worry him and stay by his side at all times, something he’s eager to bring up. after all, refusing him is just begging for him to either get angry or fall off one of his many insecurity spirals; and both scenarios usually end up with his darling getting dragged away by the twins to “fix” azul
a relationship that started off fine is now just toxic. azul is desperately codependent and controlling, and this isn’t even as bad as he can get; really, his darling gets a front-row seat to see how he’s slowly enveloped in his obsession with them
it’s not hard for azul’s darling to fall out of love, not like this. the azul they knew at the start, the one they fell in love with is mostly gone by the time the three month anniversary rolls around- them trying to break up with the merman is almost a given, and yet that’s probably the straw that breaks the camel’s back and just makes azul fully succumb to his obsession
kidnapping, blackmailing, contracts, killing, violence; azul brings in the big guns once his darling tries to leave. he sees it as his insecurities and fears having been ‘correct all along’- he has to take control, has to make things work by force if it has to be so; after all, it’s clear his darling won’t stay anymore, so... he’ll just have to keep them by force, won’t he?
ruggie bucchi
ruggie might often appear quite relaxed and friendly, but he doesn’t hold himself too high. he sees himself as a slum cat, a no-good opportunist with not too many redeeming features, so when his crush confesses to him just a few days after he himself realized he had a crush is almost mind boggling
perhaps it’s that what keeps the “honeymoon” stage of the relationship alive for so long. the sheer disbelief and joy that he’s getting his way, that life is aligning itself for him to have something nice without having had to work for it
but the honeymoon stage isn’t eternal, don’t you know? everything that goes up must go down- in some relationships that might mean one loses interest, or grows bored, but in ruggie’s case it’s differnet.
he grows paranoid, grows selfish. his darling is finally his. he finally has something that’s entirely his own- no hand me downs, no stealing, no pity gifts; his darling was the one to come to him, they’re his, and they’re not for anyone else
“something of his own” is perhaps a good way to just see all the ways ruggie’s brain is fucked up on this; his darling is something he owns, more of a belonging than a person. oh, don’t get him wrong- he loves them, he thrives off the attention (he needs it, almost, desperately begging for it) they give him- but in the end of the day, they’re his so they should do as he says, right?
he’s grown up knowing to hide and protect valuables, that everyone else is out to steal other’s precious gems; he comes from a dog-eat-dog world, and that sort of thinking poisons his heart. he can’t stand people even glancing at his darling, spending time with them; his heart says they’re trying to steal them, why wouldn’t they? isn’t his darling just the most precious thing? but they’re HIS precious thing- and it’s his duty to make sure nobody takes them away, right?
it’s so easy to get rid of people with his unique magic. it’s so easy to clean up any mess, with how used he is to cleaning. it’s so easy to hide remains in the vast sands that extend in the distance of the savanaclaw dorm
and it’s so easy to show his darling his work, to make them aware of how hard he works for them- of course, this is nothing short of using fear to control them, but hey, if it works, it works, doesn’t it?
after all, his darling is just that much more willing to stay nice and put in his room while he’s out if the memory of ruggie’s bloodstained clothes is engraved in their mind, and it’s so much easy for ruggie to get the attention he craves so badly if his darling is still processing the news of their close friends’ bodies not being found
epel felmier
epel is not a complete stranger to being approached with a confession- although tragically, more than once it’s been some idiot student who somehow mistook him for a girl, only leading to bitterness and anger. so of course, when he’s finally confessed to by someone he likes- confessed to by someone who knows him, who is close to him- he’s over the moon
of course he’d worried about his crush not liking him due to his appearance; after all, he doesn’t like how fragile and lithe he is, so it’s hard to imagine others liking it (despite how annoying vil can be about how his form or whatever is perfect)
even though he knows his lover fully supports his endeavors to grow stronger, he knows that they’re weak to him. not in the way someone relies on a strong person, but because they love him- they’ll say yes to anything he says if he bats his eyelashes and speaks sweetly
and at first he doesn’t care. he won’t swoop that low- if his darling doesn’t want to do something he wants, fine. but then he starts craving for things he shouldn’t; he feels clingy and possessive, not wanting to see his darling smiling and laughing with others, not wanting them to wander alone- and suddenly he’s not above using his charm to make them give in
the fact epel wasn’t even aware how dark his desires could go just goes to show how unprepared his own darling could be. after all, at first it seems like innocent things; spending more time with him, not hanging out with students that are too flirty. it’s normal, it’s just small sacrifices needed for a working relationship
but isn’t it curious how all the sacrifices come from his darling’s part...? after all, it’s them who have to cut off contact with certain friends epel deems “too touchy”, it’s them who have to wait for epel to escort them between classes, it’s them who have to spend their free time and days off in epel’s room- but it’s so hard to call epel out. he’s so innocent and adorable; surely they’re just approaching things from the wrong angle, surely the relationship doesn’t have that big of a power imbalance, right...?
he’s a bit scared of himself, in all honesty. surely, not all relationships can be like this- surely, not all love can feel like this, can it...? he’s never been in love before, but he’s quite sure not everyone feels murderous urges to get rid of anyone who even looks at their partner, that not everyone gets as much satisfaction from seeing their partner cry as they do from a kiss from them. it’s not normal, but it’s his way of love- so surely he can’t be wrong for just giving into whatever his heart says, can he?
but epel isn’t fully in control until he brings in fear. love and affection are what he wants, yes- but those can only get him so far. he isn’t fully in control until his darling understands he’s the one in charge, he isn’t fully in charge until his darling is woozy off potions slipped in their food by him- potions that make them sleepy, giggly and obedient, that let him easily shove them into his room and perhaps attach a chain to their ankle, with them just hazily giggling about the situation instead of screaming, not able to comprehend the situation they’re in- the fear can settle in once the potion fades, after all
#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#ruggie bucchi#epel felmier#yandere tw#death ment#blood ment#drug ment#Anonymous
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Rain in Paris
All I ever see is you.
"Jisoo, don't look."
Jisoo hummed, turning her achilles heel to where Jennie was staring, and blinked almost unbelievably when she grasped it.
"Shit. I told you to not look. Are you dumb?" Jisoo felt something wrapped into her wrist and there, she saw Jennie holding it tightly, and tried to walk them into somewhere private where she couldn't see, but Jisoo didn't want to run anymore. She was exhausted.
"It's okay," she says as she sucks her breath. "I'm fine, Jennie. It's okay. It's been six months, I'm sure... I'm sure she's fine too."
Jisoo knew she had said it with a tight smile because Jennie was giving her the look, the familiar look she had seen over the past few months, and honestly, Jisoo was getting sick of it. It was time for a change.
"Are you sure?" Jennie pulled her wrist to her chest and drew small circles on it.
Jisoo nodded. She hoped her smile wasn't too tight for Jennie to notice, but then again, nothing goes undetected once you've got Jennie Kim's eyes locked on you.
"Are you really really sure that you're going to be fine? Because if you're not, I'm going to ditch the party and just have movie marathons with you."
Jisoo scoffed a smile as she pulled her hand away from Jennie's grasp. That earned an alarming look from Jennie, and Jisoo noticed that, but she only gave her a kind smile.
These past few months, Jennie Kim has been nothing but a sweet, protective cheeseball to her, and Jisoo appreciates her best friend for always being there when she needs her most. However, she couldn't let herself become like this every time she saw her. Jisoo doesn't want to allow herself to be dependent. She refuses to.
"I am fine now, Jennie." Jisoo tangled her hand with Jennie's and smiled almost brightly, almost as if she had almost let herself be fooled for once that she was fine. when she was not.
"I'm fine," she repeated, but this time, she murmured it under her breath, and looked up with a slight crooked smile. She was going to stay strong today.
"Do you want me to fetch you some wine? I heard there's champagne here."
"I'm fine, Chu. It's just, I'm worried about y-"
"I'm going to get two champagnes for us, alright? Don't go anywhere. Lisa would be here soon."
Jisoo forced her two feet to walk and left Jennie without waiting for her reply. Jennie was too much of a nagged today and Jisoo wasn't in a mood to hear such a nag. In fact, all she wanted to do at this instant was to focus on why she came here today: pose for photographers, drink some champagne, and let herself have a break for once. She's not going to allow herself to sulk in the corner just because the love of her life was standing right there.
Well, the ex-love of her life, that is.
Jisoo drank two shots of whiskey when she felt a lump in her throat. No, not today. She wasn't going to let Chaeyoung win today. Not now, not tomorrow, and never. She wouldn't give her satisfaction about what their break up had done to Jisoo. However, she admitted it did leave a hole in her heart.
Jisoo closed her eyes for a second and tried to think about the beach house she had brought last year. Struggling, Jisoo tried to hear the waves in her ears. She pictured herself as she sat on the sand while she looked at the sun embracing the sea. She had tried to hum a song in her head, but when Jisoo did, the only song that came out of her lips was what Chaeyoung had taught her last year. It was Chaeyoung's favorite song, if ain't got you by Alicia Keys.
What was wrong with her? Sometimes, Jisoo wishes she could reset her memory of Chaeyoung and just delete them fore-
"Hi."
Jisoo had stiffened up in her place when she heard a voice that had been hunting her for months. It was Chaeyoung's voice. Jisoo could not doubt it. She was certain it was Chaeyoung's voice, her favorite person.
"Hey," Jisoo said, turning around with a phony smile.
"How are you?"
"Cool. You?"
Chaeyoung had stiffened in her position. That didn't go unnoticed by Jisoo, and she hated herself for how much she remembered. She doesn't need a fucking witch marble to guess, because until now, she still memorized how Chaeyoung spoke, how she moved, and more importantly, how she imperfectly tried to hide her emotions before Jisoo. Chaeyoung was still the book Jisoo had adored so much.
"I'm fine. Actually, doing well..." Chaeyoung touched the rim of her champagne glass and smiled a little. She was not.
Jisoo flashed a small smile as she pretended to not notice. She was not here to emphathize. She was here to lose herself, fuck around, and drink some champagne for once in her life, and she's going to do that even if the love of her life is standing right in front of her.
Who cares anyway? She was not Chaeyoung's anymore.
"That's nice. I have to go now. Bye, Chae-"
"Wait!"
Jisoo halted her steps and stared at Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung was looking at the floor, almost like a shy school girl, and for once, it made Jisoo coo about how adorable she was.
"...I'm sorry."
And when Jisoo thought she couldn't freeze any more, she was proven wrong. She felt she couldn't even lift an inch of her finger when she heard and felt how sincere Chaeyoung was.
"I'm sorry, Jisoo." She repeats. Almost like she was pleading for her to comeback. Jisoo didn't like it a bit.
Jisoo tightened her grip on the monkey bar she was holding in her mind. She wouldn't falter. She wouldn't allow herself to. But when she saw that Chaeyoung was in a state to cry and could feel just how vulnerable and naked Chaeyoung was, she felt she needed to take their issue somewhere where eyes and the camera lens could not see them, so she grabbed Chaeyoung's wrist, and let her steps lead them their way.
Jisoo had let go of Chaeyoung's wrist when they reached the balcony. And when silence engulfed them, Jisoo sighed so loudly, reached out to ruffle her own hair, and felt Chaeyoung's eyes burning on her.
Jisoo turned her head and she wished she didn't, because as soon as she saw. She took the hanky from her pocket and gave it to Chaeyoung.
"Don't cry," Jisoo looked at the flat view. "People will think I bullied you or something."
Somehow, Jisoo heard a chuckle and she smiled a little. She could still hear Chaeyoung sniffling, and Jisoo remembered so dearly how she would wrap her arms around her just to comfort Chaeyoung.
She hates this. She doesn't.
"How's Jennie?" Jisoo held back her head to turn.
"She's fine," Jisoo smiles. "She's been a baby lately. She wouldn't refuse to leave me alone. She wouldn't even let me go out alone. She's like a glue stick to me."
"Except now?"
"Except now," Jisoo repeats and chuckles. She hoped it wasn't too forced.
She heard no response from Chaeyoung, and when Jisoo turned her head, their eyes met. And for a split second, Jisoo wanted to know how it felt to be in Chaeyoung's arms again. Chaeyoung's eyes were burning red, her face was puffy, and Jisoo cursed herself for that.
I'm still longing for you. I hate you.
"I miss you, you know." Chaeyoung said, her voice almost strained as she stilled her gaze.
A bitter laugh escaped from Jisoo's lips. "Yeah. Sure you do."
"I'm serious."
"You don't, Chaeyoung."
"I miss yo-"
"If you missed me, why didn't you come for me?" Jisoo snapped. Chaeyoung had pursed her lips as she stared down at the floor.
"Don't tell me you missed me if you don't mean it," She whispered. "It hurts me."
"But I mean it, Jisoo."
Suddenly, Jisoo felt something warm on her hand, and there, she saw Chaeyoung's hand resting on top of her. She looked up slowly and met Chaeyoung's intense gaze. Oh how she missed those eyes staring at her lovingly.
"I'm sorry for not fighting for us," She whispered and Jisoo let Chaeyoung play her fingers.
"I'm sorry for not being there with you when you needed us to fight for the relationship we have. You were right, I was a coward for not fighting for us." Chaeyoung started to draw small circles as she continued to talk. Tears were starting to stream down to her cheeks.
"I was just so afraid to defy them, Jisoo. You have to understand that they were the only family I had at that time, and I didn't want to disappoint them... No child wants to let their parents down. They were against of our relationship when I told them about us... so I thought of leaving you in order to stop their disappointment in me, but it didn't work.
I just want them to love me for who I am, Soo, but they never did. They never loved me for who I am, and I'm sorry..."
Without a word, Jisoo held her tears back, and pulled Chaeyoung closer to her embrace. For six months, Jisoo had always wondered what, where, and when she had gone wrong. What was wrong with her for Chaeyoung to leave her just like a rug? She had always thought she was the only one suffering from their break up, and their relationship didn't mean that much to Chaeyoung. Turns out, it did. Chaeyoung just happened to be good at being silent about it.
Chaeyoung was still sobbing uncontrollably into Jisoo's embrace and Jisoo was trying her best to whisper words that she remembered that would calm Chaeyoung.
"Hey, listen to me. Chaeyoung, it's alright. You hear me, It's oka-"
"No, you listen to me." Chaeyoung cuts off, pulling herself away as she sniffed and wiped her own tears. "I hurt you badly, Jisoo. You don't deserve that. You never do. My reason for what I did to you doesn't justify it. Still, I'm sorry... I'm sorry for breaking your heart."
Jisoo's eyes were tearing up as she listened and looked at Chaeyoung. This was her first time seeing this side of Chaeyoung, so desperate for forgiveness, so sincere, and so vulnerable. What happened? Jisoo pulled Chaeyoung back to her embrace and patted her head wordlessly. "I'm really sorry, Soo."
Jisoo didn't speak a word, instead she kept her position and held Chaeyoung close to her.
"I look horrible..." Chaeyoung murmured, pulling herself away to wipe off the smudged eyeliner.
Jisoo broke into a fit of laughter, and when Chaeyoung saw it, for the first time in the past six months, she felt warm in her stomach and pouted.
"Don't laugh."
"I'm not."
"You did." Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes accusingly and trailed her finger down to Jisoo's chest with a sad smile.
"Tell me something I don't know, Jisoo."
Jisoo smiled. "I forgive you, Chaeyoung."
Chaeyoung widened her eyes in shock, and Jisoo chuckled as she reached out and tucked Chaeyoung's blonde hair at the side. "Tell me something I don't know, Chaeyoung."
"I want us back, Jisoo," Chaeyoung muttered and took Jisoo's hands on hers. "I want us to try again. At a slow pace, or whatever you want, and this time I will fight for you, Jisoo."
With so much sincerity in her eyes, Jisoo knew Chaeyoung would fight for them, and so she leans closer and clashes their lips together. It's been six months since Jisoo got the taste of those lips and until now, it still felt sweet and beautiful. She adored every inch of it. Chaeyoung had circled her arms around Jisoo's neck and tightened them. She had missed Jisoo's lips too, and she was ready to risk it all just to get to taste those lips.
She was ready to risk everything for them to try again. Jisoo was worth it. She was worth it. Their relationship was worth fighting for.
When Jisoo had pulled from the kiss, she spoke something and that was enough for Chaeyoung to cry more, but instead of sadness, she cried in happiness.
"I want us back too."
#chaesoo#parkchaeyoung#kimjisoo#blackpink#ot4#jenlisacameo#jenniekim#lalisamanoban#fluff#slightangst#slowburn#paris#gxg
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