#◜ DAZED & CONFUSED ‣ CHARACTER STUDY . ◜

[angelsleepinggurl]

“𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.”

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. Your drunk boyfriend fails to realise that you’re the angel taking care of him.

wc. around 892

tags. aki hayakawa x reader. drunkaki x reader. aki hayakawa reader fluff. all characters are 18 years old.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Stumbling through the door, the two of you barely manage through the doorway, with Aki leaning heavily on you, his weight threatening to pull you both to the floor. For a moment, it feels like you’re going to crash—your foot catches on the edge of the doormat—but you shift just in time, managing to stay upright with Aki slung against you like a ragdoll. His arm slips off your shoulder as he mumbles something incoherent, too far gone to make much sense of the world around him.

"Easy there," you mutter, more to yourself than to him. His head lolls to the side, his loose jet black hair lazily falling down his face’s sides. A content hum vibrates in his throat. He’s out of it, lost in whatever haze alcohol has wrapped him in. You crouch down, easing him against the wall, his back sliding down just slightly as you focus on pulling off his shoes. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, a slight grin on his face as if this whole thing is amusing him.

“You think this is funny yeah? Sicko.” you jokingly mutter under your breath, successfully getting his other shoes off. Makima, your boss, wanted to congratulate the team for their hard efforts. This led to suggestions for the group to out for drinks tonight, something on which you had cooled down, especially since last time’s events. But this time, the new recruit, Denji was here. Drinking and getting himself into all sorts of mischief. It all got a little too much for you when Himeno threw up in his mouth. It got a little too much for Aki when he started singing randomly and becoming really pouty and cuddly, signifying his end. So here you are, struggling to lift your boyfriend to a couch in the living room.

Aki drapes a heavy arm around you before slinking across the couch. He sprawls out like he is made of liquid. Moulding and melting to the structure of the furniture. You let out a soft sigh, standing for a moment to look at him. His hair’s a mess, his cheeks flushed pink, and he’s got this dazed look in his eyes that somehow manages to be endearing. Shaking your head, you head to the kitchen and fill a glass with water. When you return, he hasn’t moved, his arm now dangling off the side of the couch. You set the water on the table, then grab the remote and flip on the TV, settling down beside him.

The TV’s a blur of moving colors, but neither of you are really paying attention to it. Aki shifts beside you, turning his head lazily in your direction. His gaze lingers on you, as if he’s trying to place something, his brow furrowing in this adorably confused way. Your fingers sem to rub against his scalp repetitively, still holding the glass of water.

“You look a lot like my girlfriend,” he mumbles suddenly, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol.

You glance at him, trying to stifle a grin, and reply nonchalantly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing a bit as if studying you more closely. “It’s kinda freaky.”

You stifle a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. "Do you like your girlfriend?" you ask, your voice casual, as if you’re making small talk, though there’s a slight teasing edge to it.

“I love her,” he says immediately, the words slipping from his lips with a kind of softness that makes your heart flutter. He says it like it's a fact, like it's obvious, something everyone should know. His eyes half-close again, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “She’s so nice to me. And she’s got this… really pretty hair.” He lifts his hand clumsily, gesturing vaguely at your head. “And she has this amazing laugh. I wish she’d laugh forever.”

You can’t help it—you laugh, just a little, your breath catching in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. Aki’s eyes flicker open at the sound, and for a second, it’s like he’s awake again, aware, noticing you fully. But the moment passes as quickly as it came, and his head drops back down onto the couch cushions.

“I wish my girlfriend was here right now,” he mumbles, his voice wistful.

Something softens inside you at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. His eyes flutter open again, bleary but warm, looking up at you as if he’s not sure what’s real.

"Silly," you whisper, smiling down at him, “I am your girlfriend.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Aki blinks up at you, his brow furrowing as if he’s processing the words. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face, lazy and soft, like the realization is just starting to sink in. He lets out a contented sigh, closing his eyes again as his head nestles deeper into your lap.

“I knew that,” he mutters, though there’s a playfulness in his voice that suggests otherwise.

You laugh softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. The room falls quiet, the sound of the TV a distant hum in the background. Aki’s breathing evens out, his body relaxing completely against you, his hand resting lightly on your leg as if even in his half-asleep state, he wants to be close to you.

“Love you too, idiot.”

[everand1r]

To the salon!

(Some) Twisted wonderland boys x Barbie (gn) reader.

Reader isn't based off of any specific barbie so I kept it vague. (Gn) No features are mentioned. Some are Platonic and some Romantic but you can view it either way really. These are mostly imagines? Hcs? Crack fic? idk but lemme know if I missed anything. These were pretty fun to do I might do more

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Epel, Azul, Sebek

Transporting to a new world is something you are used to, you've been on many adventures and have gained many skills and degrees along the way that starting anew isn't a new experience. Although living in a rundown dorm isn't ideal, It just needs a little shaping! You've built stuff before you've got this. Oh but you'll need a new wardrobe too! No way can you wear one outfit all the time! I guess there's no time like the present to put them skills to use!

Riddle

• He thinks your style is cute, and admires how you always look stunning and pristine everyday without fail.

• Although you look a little TOO pristine at times, he gets confused on how you can run a mile in gym and not break a sweat, meanwhile this boy is probably gasping for air. When you explain you were an Olympic track star back in your world he has to try not to side you

• He kinda thinks your lying about your careers and all you've accomplished

• He greatly underestimates your intelligence until you barge into heartslabyul one day in your bright pink suit and a big smile on your face

  "Ace! Deuce!" You yell into the living area, the pair looking up at you from where they were studying. "Prefect, need I remind you of yelling inside?" the red head sighs. "Ah sorry sorry! I'm just so excited I had to come share!" "Is it about your trial today?" Deuce asked. "Trial....?" Riddle mumbles, slightly confused. He had no idea what you lot were talking about, but knowing you it was probably some crazy- "Yes I won my first court case today!" ......What? Court case?

"My Client was wrongfully accused of stealing and I helped them find justice! I'm so glad my skills as a lawyer can help others in this world." You boldy exclaim, chest puffing up. "Tell us all about it." Ace said turning to you fully.

Riddle sat back, tuning you all out. This boy was at a loss for words. You, a Lawyer??? How is that even possible? You're a Freshman... but Riddle recalls the time you set an Olympic World record for figure skating, and the time you hacked into a Government network using nothing but the school library computers. Maybe you being a Lawyer isn't so unrealistic after all.

Deuce

• Deuce always thought you were gorgeous and admirable, not that he would tell you that! He's too embarrassed

• It's kind of obvious though, with the way he never takes his eyes off you as you talk to him, he's got this lovesick gaze on him it makes ace roll his eyes

• Being friends with you from the beginning of the school year, he's used to you and all your skills, you still manage to surprise him from time to time though. Like creating a new life form from the potions in potionology should not be possible and yet here you are...

• Although that's what he admires about you, how you've accomplished so much at a young age. As an aspiring honor student he looks up to you. Admiration that's all it was, nothing more haha...

  When deuce got your message to come over to Ramshackle, he certainly wasn't expecting to see you arguing with a rooster and a big chicken coop in the back of the dorm. When did that even get there? "George please! just get back in the coop, everyone else listened to me!" George clucked at you, clearly not listening. "Ugh we're gonna be here forverer- Oh! Deuce you came!" You grin, diverting your eyes from the big chicken to the boy standing outside the fence. "Well don't just stand there come on in," Snapping out of his daze he goes through the fence and meets up with you. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" He asks. "Yup! I was a chicken farmer back in my world and i've just missed growing my own foods so I decided to start one here,"

You strech your arms out, signaling to the land around Ramshackle. You clasp your hands together with a soft grin on your face "I know how much you like eggs so I thought once my chickens lay some, we could make some egg dishes with it!"

   Admiration??? No no no, this boy was in Love!

Epel

• Before Epel offically met you he had seen you around, kind of hard not to with you being the most stylish person in NRC, you kinda stick out

• Although he only really got a good look at your style once he stayed at Ramshackle for the VDC.

You would come down every morning with a new oufit, hair and makeup done to a tee, he wonders if your closet is just limitless and how you have so many clothes and accessories.

• You blackmailed Crowley

• Ngl he probably thought you were one of those -prim and proper, freaks out at getting dirty- kind of person.... at first

• On the weekends when you don't have to stick around with practice, you would leave in the morning and come back later on and talk about your day at dinner, and you would always say the most insane shit Epel has ever heard in his life

"What do ya mean you discovered a new life species?" Epel glares at you from your vanity mirror. You shrug, continuing your nightly routine. Epel was sat on your bed, listening to you recount what you did today.  "Oh you should've seen it! It was a new bird species with the most gorgeous feather pattern, It took a couple of hours to find them out in the Savanna but it was so worth it." In the Savanna? You didn't look like you went to the Savanna. With your colorful outfit and perfectly manicured nails, and those glossy lips... Ugh! Epel shook his head. Just what is he thinking? But as he looks up at you, fully turned around, he can't help but notice just how stunning you really are.

Azul

• He doesn't really like you so he thinks

• But he's kinda intimidated by you, like most others in the school he underestimates you until he tried to take Ramshackle from you

• He was NOT prepared for you to list off all the shady and bordering on illegal business practices he was doing. How did you figure him out so quickly?? Did you also run a business perhaps?? the answer is yes, you do.

• You don't like his methods and try to talk to all his potential clients as you are fim beilever that if you put your mind to it, you can be anything! No need to sign away your powers or voice. Azul, clearly, does not like this and so there's just this mutual little rivalry between the two of you, although you do respect each other to some degree

Azul could feel his eye twitch, he has been going back and forth with you on this matter he's starting to falter. You two currently sat in the VIP room of the Mostro lounge. He's been trying to get you to sign this damn contract so he can take up your dorm. You, on the other hand are stubborn and refuse to give up the dorm you spent so much time renovating! He's beginning to wonder if it's even worth it at this point, maybe he can extend his business elsewhere... No! He's gotten this far he's not about to back down, but as he glances at you with your arms crossed and cute pout on your face, grim sitting next to you mimicking your stance... Azul feels as if he's gonna be here all night.

Sebek

• He didn't really think much of you for a while

• Sebek had more important things to worry about which is why he didn't pay attention to you until you pop out from behind Coach Vargas at Vargas camp, donning a military uniform and little yellow visor glasses, exclaiming how your gonna be the one in charge to whip up all those boys into shape.

• Sebek always thought he was prepared for any physical activity, after all he is a bodyguard in training.

• So imagine his surprise when your god forsaken training regimen has him fighting for air! HIM! The bodyguard to a prince! He never thought he would hate the sound of a whistle but by the seven can you stop blowing that damn thing?!?!

• Oh he needs a break...

  Sebek sat near the river, reflecting on the events of today when the sound of footsteps from behind bring him out of his thoughts. "There you are Sebek!" you exclaim, stopping right next to him. "I've been looking for you, gosh you are hard to find," He raises an eyebrow, "Looking for me?" He repeats. "Mhm! I wanted to ask you about today, Many of the other students struggled to keep up, but you were way ahead of the rest. I was curious about what you do that keeps you so fit." The half fae smirks, his already massive ego growing even more at your little observation. No way was he gonna let you know that even he had a bit of trouble with your hellish training.

"Well if you must know, I am a royal bodyguard and I must be physically fit if I am to protect my Liege." Your mouth gapes a little, "A royal bodyguard?? Wow no wonder you were able to keep up! The workouts I planned today were easier verions of the ones I gave back in my world, I wonder if I should make them even easier." You sigh, "Being a military commander isn't easy work." You nodded to yourself, currently lost in your own little world as you think of different workouts to give.

Huh???   Military commander?!

[ghostskiss]

I just done playing cod mw3 and Soap death killed me from the inside, just want to console my mind, I want to see Simon with Soap'ssister!Y/N as lover having each other after the trauma please??? i love your writing and i believe you can ease my heart <3

hey bby! sorry for the late reply, i hope this eases you after some time <3

———

Pain

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Lil Sis Y/N

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ANGST, Trauma bonding, Character Death, Mentions of depression, Grief, Sadness, Blood/Injury TW, Bathing in a tub, Soft!Dom Simon, Massaging/hands all over F! body, Clitplay, crygasm, tbh kind of DDLG-esque ((to me at least)). No DDLG wording used though Tried not to spoil too much on Soap's death for other readers!

note: please take care of yourselves loves. if you relate to Y/N in this, i am so very sorry and it does get better. be patient and kind with yourselves and reach out. people need you as much as you need them and that is a strength. not a weakness.

———

Pain.

Pain is what you've been feeling. Disaster, chaos, sadness. But pain was King in your heart. The deciding factor for many things in your life since your big brother has...

You grip your chest and double over in the kitchen, dropping your coffee mug in the sink. Sucking in a breath, you allow the grief to wash over you in the deadening wave that it is. That's what you've learned over these past couple of months. They come and go in waves, this thing called Grief. It hurts every time. Sometimes at night you wonder if they'll ever go away. If it'll always feel like you're drowning without him here. Your big brother. Johnny.

Even though you're clenching your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel through this pain, you haven't cried lately. It's like you've cried so much the first couple of months that your tear ducts have stopped working. A few more moments pass and you stand up straighter, looking at the broken mug in the sink. You feel nothing now, like you hadn't been in agonizing pain just seconds ago. Enough to have made you drop and break one of your favorite mugs. Awhile ago that would've made you cry. You used to be so raw with emotion after the passing of Johnny. Now nothing seems to get you to except the random waves of grief.

Touching a shard in the sink with mild disinterest, you think about all things you used to do. Things that made you feel something. Anything but this never-ending pressure and weight on your shoulders, like you're carrying it around like a support blanket. Your finger slips on the shard, the ceramic cutting into your pointer finger, blood welling to the surface quickly. Another glance of mild disinterest as you bring your hand up to study the open the wound. It hadn't even hurt. How...odd. The warmth of the red liquid trails down your hand to your wrist, as it slowly leaks from your finger.

The doorbell rings, pulling you out of your morbid trance and you blink, almost in shock from the sound. Some days it feels like you're holed up in world different from others entirely, that no one can get you here. The doorbell rings again and this time your feet seem to be unglued finally. Ripping off a paper towel, you press it to your finger and yell out weakly,

"Coming."

Your voice cracks painfully and you wince. When was the last time you'd spoken out loud? The grip you have on your finger tightens as you glance around your home. Christ, when was the last time you'd cleaned anything? Eaten? When was the last time -

Someone pounds on the front door. You zoned out again in the middle of the front entry way. Trying to blink away your dazed state, you reach for the door, opening it. A breath catches in your throat, staring at the...

Ghost.

Ghost.

The man stares down at you in his own confused state, his dark eyes behind that mask he wears taking in inventory of every little thing. In the past you would've shrunk away from his searching gaze. In the past, you would've felt fear. You would've felt self conscious. You stare up at him and will yourself to feel something, anything.

You realize he'd been talking to you and you blink again, voice croaking, "Sorry? What?"

"Why the hell are you bleeding?" His head nods to your hands.

You glance down confused, had already forgotten what happened moments ago. The blood has seeped through your meager little paper towel and was making a fine mess down your arm again. Detached, you state, "Broke my mug."

Ghost is silent for a moment, watching you watch the blood trickle down even more. He's almost unnerved, seeing you in this state. How long have you been like this? His jaw clenches under his mask and he gently grabs your hand with injured finger, squeezing it to keep the blood from flowing as he redirects you back inside. The fact that you move in zombie-like trance pains him. Something he knows well. Seeing it in you...seeing it in Soap's baby sister. And knowing what you're feeling or you're lack of feeling makes his chest hurt.

In your dissociated and detached state, you move with him as he guides you through your own home from behind you. You don't feel entirely here on this plane of existence. But you know that you trust this man, that he's going to help you with your injured finger. That this was a man that your brother trusted with his life. His life.

That thought snaps you out of it and you inhale sharply, taking in your surroundings like you'd been asleep this whole time. Ghost has since sat you down at the kitchen table, glass of water next to you and some ibuprofen. The water runs in the kitchen sink and you can smell your lavender hand soap. Your head turns to the kitchen, catching Ghost's gaze as he dries his hands off. He stares at you and then nods to the items on the table. Turning back to it, you grab the glass and frown, seeing your already bandaged finger. You drink some water and down the pain killers with it as Ghost comes around and pulls a chair from the table to sit in front of you. He gently grabs your hands into his and holds them, leaning his elbows on his legs.

"How are you?" his voice is quiet, not exactly a whisper, but something above it. It's nice. It's calm. It's familiar, in a way. You think about the last time you'd seen him. When was it? Johnny's funeral. Johnny.

"Hey."

You look up from your joined hands, realizing yet again you'd went away somewhere. Ghost's eyes ping to yours, back and forth, like he's trying to read your mind. Like he's trying to figure out where you're going too. How to keep you here with him. How to keep you present. He leans closer, and you don't even flinch. Like you're in and out of your own consciousness, not aware of anything. His bare hands run up your arms softly and he notes the goosebumps raising as he tickles you. Good. At least you're somewhat aware of that. You blink again, coming back to him from the stimulation. You shiver slightly and Ghost hums, deciding that physical touch is going to work at least for now.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, peering up at him. Your eyes are wide, like he's waking you up out of a dream you'd been stuck in for awhile. This is going to hurt, he realizes. He gently squeezes your shoulders.

"To check in on you. Soap..." his voice dips, "Johnny told me to look after you. I...I'm sorry I haven't been here." He stops at that, not knowing what to say. He doesn't have an excuse. He can't say it was work. Can't say it was anything but his own selfishness, his own pain, his own anguish. He'd lost a brother too.

Something in his voice triggers it in you. Something that starts to slowly swell up inside, like a different kind of pressure. You feel more alert, sharper.

"You're sorry?"

Ghost nods and lets out a slow sigh, his fingers still loosely trailing on your skin. It's starting to irritate you slightly, as you feel his touch awaken your skin. "I don't have an excuse. I made a promise and I couldn't keep it. But I'm here now. I'm here. And if I had known...if I had known you were like this I wouldn't have been... I don't know. Scared. Scared to see you. I was -am- grieving too."

Scared to see you. The man who was the last person with Johnny. The man who had him more than you had him. The man who took your brother away from him. Scared of you. Grieving too. Like he had his brother killed. Killed. Taken away.

Anger. Anger is what this new feeling is. You almost revel in it, almost shuddered with excitement that you're finally, finally feeling something other than the pain. Your heart rate picks up and you almost feel delirious.

"If you hadn't known I was like this?"

Ghost catches the change in your tone and his gaze jerks back up to you in question. You can see his brows dip in confusion as he pulls his hands away from you.

"Honey, look around this place. You...you're not doing okay. I shouldn't have waited this long." He says gently, like you're not aware of how bad you are. Like you have no idea how much you've been in. Like you're not aware at all.

"I know I'm not doing okay, Simon." You spit out behind clenched teeth, "My brother got killed."

Ghost flinches at that, jerking back into his seat as he stares at the ground.

You feel like you conquered something. You feel in control suddenly, prideful that you hurt him with your words. You stand up abruptly, knocking your chair back and Ghost looks up at you with pain in his eyes. You feel high off of that fact. You aren't the only one in pain anymore. You don't have to feel it. You can inflict it.

"You weren't the one who lost your family." Another flinch from the man in front of you, "You weren't the one who had random men show up at your front door step and tell you your brother was killed. You weren't the one who had to go to the funeral and see people who knew him, but not the way that you knew him, people who didn't grow up with him, people who took him away from his real family, people who only worked with him not loved him-"

"I loved him."

Your next words catch in your throat as you gaze down at him in shock.

"What -"

"I said I loved him." Ghost stands up slowly, his hands up like he's approaching a wounded and feral animal. You back up in fear like one anyways. "I loved your brother. I loved Johnny. Johnny loved you. He loved you. He'd always talk about you. He'd show me the letters you'd write him when we'd be shipped out. He'd show me pictures of your family. He'd tell me anything he could about you. He loved you. I know you loved him. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm sorry I couldn't share the things I had with Johnny, but I'm here now and I'm ready. I'm ready to share anything you want to hear, I know we weren't close before this, but your brother was my best friend. He was a brother to me. I know that our pain of losing him is different, but we still lost someone dear to us. Your brother was dear to me. You alone for that are dear to me as well. I will not let you walk through this alone anymore, sweetheart."

Ghost slowly reaches up and brushes your cheeks and that's when you realize you're crying. A sob catches your throat as you throw yourself at the man in front of you, burying your face into his chest as you cry. His arms come around you, keeping you to him, holding you as your body shakes with emotions. It's not only pain now. Nor anger. There's love and relief. Because now someone does finally understand where your heart and head have been since your brother passed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Simon I didn't -" you start, staring up at him with tears blurring your vision. He shushes you and shakes his head, thumbing your tears away.

"Allow yourself to feel everything in this. No emotion is wrong. Anger is healthy." He rubs your back as you press your face in his chest again, breathing him in. It feels good, being hugged by a man such as him. After a few moments, Ghost untangles you slowly from him and jerks his head to the stairs. "Let's get you in a bath."

----------------------------

You stare down at the bubble bath lit with candles in a bit of anxiety. It looks warm and welcoming. Holding your finger up you stare at the gauze wrapped tightly around it. Strict orders under Lt Ghost was to not remove the bandage, even when you complained you'd had to leave your entire hand out of the bath then.

Startling you into a slight jump, Ghost's voice comes from behind the paper thin bathroom door, "You okay? I don't hear you in the bath."

You gnaw on your bottom lip, "Yeah, I'm uh...thinking."

"Thinking?"

You dip your toe in and shudder in delight. Yeah, that man might not look it, but he runs a good bubble bath. You lower yourself slowly, careful not to get your bandaged finger wet. Your body seems to groan with relief as you settle back into the water, head dipping back to lean on the edge of the tub. A few quiet seconds go by before Ghost is at the door again.

“You okay?”

You nod and then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah.” your voice sounds calm and at peace for once. You look around the dimly lit bathroom, candles on the counter lighting the room just enough. “I just wish I could wash my hair. Or anything really. I can’t get my hand wet.”

You think he’s gone by the lack of reply. Which is fine, you didn’t expect him to sit outside your bathroom door the entire time, even if he said he would. That’d be ridiculous to ask of him —

“I can do it. Wash your hair, I mean.” His voice is so soft from behind the door you think you made it up.

“I—”

He starts up again, this time a tad louder and rushed, like he’s trying to find the right words without offending you, “I won’t look. Obviously. There should be enough bubbles to uh… cover you. Not that I’d look even if there weren’t any. Just. Listen I’ll only help wash your hair. Don’t want you to get your bandage wet.” He pauses for a second. “If you want.”

You think it over while looking down at the bath. He’s right, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. You chew on your lip, thinking it over, probably for too long. Letting a slow sigh to calm your nerves, you nod and call him in. He comes in silently and you tense, feeling his presence fill the room. What are you doing? This is your brother’s…lieutenant. War buddy. Best friend. You’re letting him in the bathroom with you while you’re naked for Christ’s sake.

You turn to catch him rolling up his sleeves, bare hands grabbing the edge of the tub to help lower himself down to his knees. You feel yourself shrink back into the bubbles, glad for the low lighting so he can’t see you blushing. He’s staring at you softly, like he’s watching every tiny reaction you’re having to him. Studying you to see if you’re too uncomfortable. You don’t want him to leave so you sit up a little, moving closer to him. He nods a bit and reaches up to untangle your hair from the pile you placed on top of your head. He sweeps his fingers through your hair and your eyes close, allowing yourself to feel in the moment. Not think it. He grabs your bath cup and dips it in the water, letting the warmth cascade through your hair. Gently, he tips your head back so it doesn’t get in your eyes, his large hands are surprisingly soft as he finishes getting your hair wet enough for shampoo. His fingers massage your scalp with the suds and you groan, leaning into him more.

He chuckles, “You’re acting like a cat.”

“Do you like cats?” you ask, curious. Your eyes are closed and you hum as he rubs your head more.

“Hm. I’d like you if you were a cat.”

“You hardly know me. What if I were a bad cat?”

“No such thing.”

He dumps more water through your hair, rinsing you free of all your past worries and fears. You feel your body relax more and you sigh, sad that this is going to end soon. Your eyes peer open at him and you shiver, now thinking of how you have a man, this large mysterious man bathing you. You’ve known of him, met him a couple of times when Johnny would come home and bring him along. But he never talked much, in fact, you were a little scared of him sometimes. Johnny always joked with him but you swear the man was mute around your family. Seeing him so…intimately under the lighting of your bathroom, his rough but gentle hands on you, washing you and touching you, had your heart clenching and your thighs pressing together under the water. Was that wrong of you? What would your brother think right now? In the beginning it was appropriate enough, but now with these thoughts running rampant, it didn’t feel like an innocent hair washing session. You were suddenly so aware of how naked you were. How the bubbles in the bath were dissipating like they do after some time.

Ghost looks at your bandaged finger, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him to inspect it. He makes a satisfied sound in seeing that you haven’t gotten it wet.

“Need me to wash you?”

Your throat dries as you stare at him, as he’s casually looking over your hand in his. You think of those very same hands on your body. His fingers caressing you, sudsing you up with your body wash. You’re about to tell him no, to be respectful to him. He’s probably innocently thinking he’s helping you and here you are getting worked up over him just washing your hair.

“I won’t…I won’t—”

“Do anything I don’t want you to?” You finish for him, not sure if that’s what he was even going to say. He nods anyways and catches your gaze to level it, like he’s telling you means it. Not only with his words but his eyes. You nod back and you stare at each other for a moment longer before he’s reaching for the wash. He pours some in the palm of his large hand and you swallow, turning your gaze away from him, the eye contact beginning to have been too much.

His hands connect with your shoulder softly and you close your eyes, tension leaving you quicker than you thought. He leans you forward a bit and gets your back, dipping under the water and coming back up. Your head lulls to the side as he comes back up and sweeps his hand across your collarbones, raising your arm to get your armpit and you giggle, though he seems to be taking his job seriously. He grunts at your reaction and turns your body a bit to get the other side of you.

You shudder, trying not to squirm under his tickling touch. His hands dip under the water to grab one of your legs and you squeal, catching the sides of the tub so you don't tip under. He laughs lightly, lathering up your calves and feet, your toes trying to wiggle out from underneath his grip. It's light and playful until you sit up, completely forgetting the setting that you're in. Ghost's hands drop from you and he sits back abruptly, making you frown and glance down at yourself. Bubbles from the bath are slowly falling from your breasts down your sides and stomach, your nipples tightening from the change in temperature. Ghost's wet hands grip the edge of the bath and you're both frozen, like you're both shocked at what you're witnessing. Heat fills your body and you turn towards him more, hearing the ever so slight hitch in his breath as your nipple grazes his knuckles.

Your uninjured hand grabs one of his and tugs gently, getting him to unglue his fingers from the tub. He watches you move your joined hands towards your chest and he utters your name out in a low warning. You pretend not to hear him as you guide his hand to cup a breast gently.

"You didn't wash me here." You whisper innocently, now looking up at him through your wet lashes. You feel Ghost's fingers spread before lightly gripping you in response. You shiver, pressing more into his touch.

Ghost lets out a noise in the back of his throat, like he's unsure on how to proceed. "We--"

You grab his other hand and do the same thing, the sudden action cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. His eyes drop to your breasts and he swipes a thumb across your nipple before testing the weight of you in his palms. You let out a small sigh, eyelids drooping from the feel of his warm hands on you. He plays with you like that, sweeping, feeling, testing, and washing your tits as you struggle to keep your head up from the pleasure. His fingers trail down to your sternum, even further to your belly button and you're nodding your head, like you're trying to encourage him to keep going.

"You want me to wash you there too, honey?"

You're nodding again, eyes half open while your press as much of yourself into his hands. Practically begging him without saying the words. Ghost hums and he pulls away entirely, standing up to chuck off his sweater that's gotten wet from the bath. Underneath he's got a plain black t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and you sit back, taking the large man in as he settles back down.

"Turn around. Lean your back here." He pulls your shoulders against the tub, his hands coming around you. You look down and watch his hands fondle your tits, fingers coming around to pinch your nipples lightly, just giving you enough pressure to gasp. His head settles in the crook of your shoulder, material of the mask brushing against your neck lightly, tickling you. He turns and whispers darkly in your ear while one hand trails down the front of your body, other gripping your chest.

"Let yourself feel. Stay with me."

Your eyes drift shut as his fingers go lower and lower until you're raising your hips to catch his finger tips into your sex. He chuckles airlessly, pressing into your aching clit. "Right here, baby?" You nod again frantically, whining out as he starts pressing slow circles. Your clit throbs as his fingers catch it, rolling it and playing with it as you gasp out. "Keep that bandage dry." The tone he delivers that in has an underlining connotation of a threat. An or else.

It makes your breath hitch and your head lull back, hitting his shoulder as he leans into you from behind the tub, his fingers playing slowly, exploring you. His other hand cups and plays with your breasts and he hums with curiosity when he finds the right spot, the right pressure. You don’t need to tell him, he can tell by the way you tense and then melt into him, almost like you’re fighting against the pleasure he’s giving you. His cock strains hard against his jeans and he curses himself about the morals and lines you two are crossing, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. In the throes of your pleasure as you cry out louder, your hands that were on the tub’s edge start to slip and the masked man tsks at you.

“Hands out of the water.”

You whimper and place them back on the edge, gripping and holding so you don’t entirely submerge yourself in the water containing you. Ghost picks up the pace of his fingers circling your clit and you moan out, hips bucking up. You’re close.

“Ghost,” you gasp, not sure what you’re about to say or beg or plead for.

“That’s it. Let go. Let go.” his voice is coaxing, like he’s gently leading you, not demanding you. Nurturing you, taking care of you. Your body responds like it was a command, toes curling, head falling backwards, breath catching and then crescendoing as your legs tense up, capturing Ghost’s ever moving hand to your pussy as you come. It’s breathtaking and blinding, and by the time you come back to reality, you’re gasping for air like you finished running.

Ghost lets you gather your bearings before he’s slowly untangling himself from you, rinsing the rest of your body off. He helps you stand on your wobbly legs, pulling you up and put of the tub with ease. A warm large towel comes around you and he dries you off thoroughly before wrapping it around your body and pulling you into him. He rests his cheek on top of your head, rubbing your back in the embrace. You can feel yourself crying, though you’re not sad. You blink away the tears as Ghost holds you.

“Let’s get you in bed sweetheart.”

He transitions you into your bed, and you reach out for him with watery eyes. He sighs a bit, but kicks off his boots and clambers into the bed after you, somehow just knowing this entire time what you need. The bandage, the bath, the feeling of something other than the pain in your heart. He pulls you into him, keeping you wrapped in the covers and he softly kisses your forehead through his mask. Your eyelids droop. Even though you’ll never get your brother back, and Ghost will never get his back, you’re here together. Going through it together. You were never really alone, even with how bad it hurt and how much you thought otherwise. It didn’t hurt right now, but it may in the future and that’s okay. You had time. You’re going to take it one step at a time.

“I’m right here baby. You’re okay.”

And you knew he was right.

[harmeu]

   A Stare

      Obey Me x Reader

Synopsis: Some Obey Me characters react to their crush wearing a revealing top.

(GN!Reader)

Lucifer:

Lucifer was helping you study for an upcoming exam but his eyes kept drifting to your shoulders that were completely bare for the world to see.

“Something wrong Lucifer?” You say with confusion. Making him snap out of his daze with a flinch.

“Ah- no. Nothings wrong,” he scratched his head trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him. 

You leaning in to get a better look didn’t help him at all. A small blush soon decorated his cheeks.

“Are you alright? You're red..”

“Yes! I’m fine,” he says with a small smile with closed eyes. Though below the desk was shaking fingertips. He wanted to kiss your shoulders so badly.

Asmodeus: 

Asmodeus was trying to fix your hair to suit his tastes but your top was revealing your stomach making his eyes and fingers brush against that spot.

“Come on Asmo,” you blush at his touch, swatting him away.

“Dearie, maybe next time you should think before wearing something so revealing in front of me.~” He held your waist while combing your hair.

“You're annoying at times you know?” You pout to yourself earning a chuckle from Asmo as he pinches your cheeks.

“Adorable you are.” He says with a genuine smile and small blush.

Simeon:

Simeon and you were having a picnic together just for some fresh air but your back was completely revealed making Simeon blush every time he looked at you. 

“Something wrong Simeon?” You look at him covering his face with his hand averting his eyes away.

“O-of course not. Isn’t the weather just beautiful?” He says clearly trying to change the topic.

“Oh I guess it is.” You look up while Simeon continues to stare at your revealed back. That was a clearly unholy thing for an angel to do, no?

“You're gorgeous,” he says unexpectedly, making you blush and himself as well from realizing what he just said.

“T-thank you,” you fiddle with your fingers making him chuckle to himself. 

[lets-try-some-writing]

Death is very good being Normal (at least he thinks so)

The Thirteenth Prime is death, that is his function, his purpose. However in response to increasingly high counts of meaningless loss of life, he has taken on physical form to try and address the issue. Too bad he keeps getting wrapped up in side quests and friendship along the way.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Orion Pax was an odd one alright. Ratchet knew that the moment he saw Orion the first time at the archives.

The way he walked was almost as if gravity had no sway over him. His body language was near non-existent and Ratchet couldn't sense an EM field from him at all. The Archivist seemed to blend right into the background if one weren't paying attention and Orion didn't even seem bothered. If anything Pax appeared to be more shocked when he was noticed rather than when he wasn't. Not only that, but there was just something... of about him. His limbs were too long, his plating too jagged and placed in areas it really shouldn't have been able to develop. His optics were too wide, too bright, and lifeless despite their glow.

He was off, but Ratchet found himself intrigued all the same.

He vividly remembered the day he finally worked up the confidence to approach the mech. He requested aid finding a text he could have easily hunted down himself just to see how the Archivist would respond. Ratchet was left even more interested in Orion when all the Archivist did was nod and gracefully guide Ratchet through the archives without even the slightest hint of emotion beyond momentary confusion and shock at being spoken to. It was almost hypnotic following Orion Pax with how every living thing seemed to bow to him.

He left the archives with his medical text in a bit of a daze and with more questions than answers. That day he resolved to figure out who Orion was and what about him made him so mysterious.

He came back to the archives time and time again, at first under the guise of needing new texts for his studies. Orion always seemed so very shocked when Ratchet approached but he never once rejected him. He talked with Orion, often receiving basic answers or ones that were so cryptic they hardly made sense. However eventually he came back just to be with the Archivist he had started to see as a friend. Orion was an excellent conversationalist and wise far beyond what Ratchet assumed was his age,. What started as a simple study of a unique character ended with Ratchet genuinely invested in teaching Orion how to be normal as he quickly discovered his friend was anything but.

Ratchet gave up asking how and why when it came to Orion around a stellar cycle into their friendship and instead merely sighed and accepted the oddity that was Pax.

Often Orion forgot to vent, a thing Ratchet had learned had zero affect on Orion since the mech was always cold as ice, only ever being even the slightest bit warm around the chassis. In such instances he would tap Orion on the shoulder and that would be enough to get him to open his vents and begin running his fans just to appear normal. When it happened in public mecha always began to panic upon seeing Orion with his armor clamped down tight around himself. The concern was so common that Ratchet even began timing how long it would take after Orion forgot for some poor bot to begin worrying that Orion was going to overheat.

The Archivist also tended to forget to show expression, make a show of having a field, and present some sort of body language. The lack of it left everyone Orion interacted with aside from those who knew him feeling like they were talking to a ghost. So Ratchet often straight up told Orion how he was supposed to act when required. Shoulders back, shift pedes every three seconds or so with slight variation, vent twice a Klik, reset the optics periodically, smile when spoken to, and so on. The list was near endless but he coached Orion all the same.

The only times he purposefully let Orion be was when the less savory sort came and bothered them. In those instances he was perfectly content to let Orion scare the scrap out of the poor bot on the receiving end by pure nature of his seeming lifelessness.

There were plenty of other things about Orion that Ratchet couldn't and certainly felt no need to explain. Sometimes Orion would disappear for cycles at a time without a word or a trace, almost like he had never existed at all. The first time it happened Ratchet nearly drove himself into a frenzy trying to find him until Orion reappeared as if nothing happened. After that he panicked a handful more times, but every instance of Orion dropping off the earth always ended with him returning in perfect condition. As such when it happened Ratchet stopped worrying and instead made sure to take care of Orion's plant while he was off doing whatever.

Ratchet also quickly got over Orion knowing things he really shouldn't and giving answers so wildly out there that it was ridiculous. How did Orion know personal details about what the late Lord of Vos preferred in his fuel? No clue. How did Orion know about the death of Sentinel Prime long before it was announced? Ratchet didn't even bother to try and figure it out. How was Orion aware that he had broken a cup in the medical bay earlier that morning when he had been alone and cleaned it up right after? He didn't want to know.

Ratchet: Where are you from Orion? It's rather obvious you are not native to Iacon.

Orion: I come from the place between the stars where time is meaningless and the whispers of things inconceivable to the mortal optic ring out all around.

Ratchet: Right... that is one way to describe the wilds.

Ratchet: So do you have any relatives?

Orion: Father watches over me in my duties, his gaze ever present but not loving. He is far greater than I, his vision so much more expansive that I cannot even comprehend it. My brothers do their duties with little regard for my own purpose. We are set apart, kin in our maker but not the same.

Ratchet: *nervous as hell* Tough family life huh? Understandable. What is this purpose you speak of?

Orion: I am merely a keeper, one who walks the void between realities to safeguard the children of Primus. I care little for who they are or what they have done, only that they are brought back safely and learn. They can struggle as hard as they wish, but all will come to me eventually...

Ratchet: *having a small crisis* An odd way to describe archiving data, but I suppose all do come for learning eventually.

Orion: As you say.

Sometimes he needed a strong drink after interacting with Orion, but he wouldn't dare ignore the entertainment he gained from his friend when he wasn't being driven to alcoholism with wisdom that Orion really shouldn't have and the odd instances where he saw some sort of energy being in place of his friend after long work shifts. After meeting Megatronus, Orion's odd instances became far more obvious since the Gladiator had quickly taken to telling Orion that it was indeed normal to do all the things the Archivist did that were certainly not. It drove Ratchet up the wall the first few times, but it quickly became funny for him as well to watch the reactions of others in response to Orion's actions.

Megatronus was weirded out by Orion on many levels, but he too gained an appreciation for him after listening to the wisdom Orion had to give. Not to mention Orion somehow had contacts everywhere and could forge words like a master even if they ended up being more terrifying than convincing.

Megatronus: How does the speech fare little Archivist? Might I hear a snippet of what you have composed?

Orion: The void awaits us all, our lives ultimately destined to end. Why endure suffering for eternity when it can be changed for those who are to come? Would we condemn the little children to this torture? Stand up. Fight for your freedom and embrace the end. For what harm is there is facing death with honor.

Megatronus: *slightly shaken* A good start, but perhaps tone down on the melodramatics.

To make up for the near constant trauma that came from being around Orion, Megatronus made great sport out of watching the chaos that came from his companion. While Orion was not very expressive, it was pretty clear he thought he was doing a great job at being normal. Megatronus never saw fit to correct him simply because the Archivist managed to scare Soundwave of all mecha by turning up in his berthroom in the middle of the night while somehow managing to get past all the security systems and Soundwave's heightened senses, only to then lean down and whisper to the spymaster.

"Megatronus summons you to formulate plans upon which this world may be rebuilt"

Simply put, Megatronus sent Orion to tell Soundwave to come to a meeting, and by the time the spymaster shot up, Orion was gone without a trace, not even a mark left on the security footage either. Soundwave quickly similarly ceased asking questions about the matter of Orion Pax and joined Ratchet and Megatronus in watching the fallout.

Orion seemed to think he was doing a fantastic job as he assisted in the efforts to begin a revolution in the pits. Megatronus could tell just by looking at him that the Archivist didn't even seem aware of how creepy he was. It was terrifying to have Orion turn up at any and all hours to hand over information. It didn't matter where Megatronus, Soundwave, Ratchet, or anyone else was. If Orion had information he wanted to relay, he would get to wherever they were and hand over the data even if his last known location was on the other side of the planet. Megatronus opted to ignore the fact that when Orion reappeared after disappearances his frame was a little more "normal" looking. He also never commented when Orion stared at him with unfeeling optics as if watching an interesting animal.

And much like Ratchet, he just did his best to forget the times Orion shifted in times of danger to become something... other. It was always different, but whatever it was Orion became when he felt threatened... it was a terrifying mess of energy and optics, claws and denta, fangs and wings. Best to ignore it and move on, as was generally the best decision when it came to anything that had to do with Orion Pax.

Even still Megatronus and Ratchet said nothing, letting Orion do as he felt and only directing him when in public if at all. He was strange and most likely a spark eater or another abomination in disguise. But he was a good mech and cared deeply once one got to know him. So for that Ratchet and Megatronus dealt with his oddities by either ignoring them or drinking them away so they could instead enjoy his companionship.

Orion for his part didn't know he was doing a poor job blending in and was just pleased that his chosen champion was making such good progress.

[baptaincarnacles]

What do you think the Octonauts would do if they met the Wild Kratt's team?

Hello! I don't know when I last touched Tumblr, and I apologize for taking so long to answer this question, but I'm back!

-Answer-

If the Octonauts met Wild Kratts, circumstances would depend on how they reacted.

For example, if they appeared in the world of the Wild Kratts, adjusted to fit their world (appeared as humans), I imagine a series of dazed confusion and plenty of flooding questions (and vice versa for the two teams if it was the Octonauts world).

Captain Barnacles would try to make sense- look at it logically even if overwhelmed. He changed from the body he was used to with no clear way of getting home. So, of course- the bulk of his body would need time to comprehend. The same applies to everyone else- adjusting to their new appearances.

However, upon meeting the Kratt crew, you can imagine friendly competition ensued. Kwazzi would be very fond of Martin (troublemakers), Tweak and Aviva would be good friends, Captain Barnacles and Chris, Dashi, Shellington, and Koki, Peso and Jimmy. Professor Inkling finds himself regularly rotating between everyone, fond of hearing the knowledge they have to share (and learning more about how this world views their species).

Martin and Kwazzi would race Buzz Bikes or any of the vehicles. And both are known quite well for crashing them. There are a lot of calls to Aviva and Tweak, though, together, the two come up with better vehicles based on each other's expertise.

Shellington gawks over the technology and marine biology studies. He adores everything new that he learns, and the higher accessibility he has to a base of marine and terra-based organisms. Koki freely gives him access to all the computers- along with Dashi (who has begun priding herself in taking pictures to share with the Wild Kratt Kids).

Barnacles and Chris are a more interesting duo. While their personalities don't match much, they would easily be able to work together. Easily coordinated- and both have a teammate who runs off on a whim. However, Chris is more openly light-hearted and playful. Barnacles is stern- though he allows his light-hearted side to see the light of day.

Peso and Jimmy, I feel, would bond over a shared anxiety for most things. However, Peso more readily dives into action while Jimmy takes a little more pushing. Jimmy would teach Peso to play video games and Peso would teach him to wrap bandages more efficiently.

Overall, their adjustment would cause problems (and the actual introduction of antagonists). Yet, it would be a lovely experience for all of them! (If anyone would be interested, I will gladly explain how I think interactions between the antagonists and the Octonauts would go- as well as introduce some of the other characters from Octonauts (Panni, Natquick, etc...!)

Thank you for the ask!!!

[guilty-pleasures21]

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

ATSV fanfic starring Miguel O'Hara (my weakness!!! 😭)

0. The Slow Burn

Part 1 - the meet cute

Part 2 - the coffee mug

Part 3 - the spicy song

Part 4 - the absence

Part 5 - the watch/the sweet song

Part 6 - the backrub

Warnings: none.

_______________________________________________

     He brought his hand closer to her face, the heat of his flame raging against her, threatening to burn her skin. And then, suddenly, it was gone, and she could breathe again. She looked around, trying to locate her enemy, and found him smashed firmly into the wall, the brick forming a perfect outline around his golden form. What? She definitely hadn’t done that. At least, she didn’t think she had. She turned back and found a new figure standing in front of her. A man, judging by his broad shoulders and heavy build. He was clad in a red and blue outfit, not a single patch of skin in sight. But the material was tight, clinging to his muscles, defining their sharp lines and letting his enemies know exactly what they were up against. He was big and tall and … tall and … big. 

     “Um, please don’t tell me I’m going to have to kill you too,” she only half-joked. She was already barely surviving the fight against the strange new villain that had sprung into existence only moments ago. She definitely couldn’t handle another insane man who thought the world owed him a living right now. The man folded his arms across his chest and let out a small chuckle, almost definitely smirking at her beneath his mask. 

     “I’d like to see you try, arañita.” She frowned at the  easy confidence of his tone, at the smoothness of his voice and the spark of warmth it ignited in her chest. Argh! She hated him already. She averted her gaze, giving herself the space to collect her thoughts and refocus her attention back to the task at hand. She cleared her throat. 

     “Well, thanks for your help, Mr …” she trailed off, leaving him to fill in the blank with a name, something that might help her identify him. He let his hands fall back to his sides and studied her carefully for a moment. 

     “Spiderman,” he supplied. Wait, what? She raised an eyebrow, confused. 

     “Like the character?” Now it was his turn to look puzzled. 

     “Wait, what?” Before she could elaborate, a golden blur shot from the side, slamming straight into the … Spiderman, he’d said? She winced at the impact, cringing on his behalf. It didn’t matter how big and strong he was; being tackled by a man made of literal metal had to hurt. The Spiderman stumbled for a second, dazed, but then he regained his bearings and threw a punch at the other man, forcing him to the ground. 

     “Spiderman?” she repeated, picking up their previous conversation. “The fictional character they created as my love interest because having a woman fight bad guys isn’t good press for the patriarchy?” She vaulted to the balcony on the second floor, her eyes flickering around her surroundings, her brain calculating all the possible ways they might come out victorious. She paused. She’d only known this Spiderman for, what, five minutes? And already she was thinking of them as some sort of team. And that was when she saw the fire extinguisher. Her gaze slid back to the two men below her, both of them continuing to trade punches. It could work. But only if the Spiderman was somehow able to read her mind from all the way over there. She called out to him. 

     “Oh god. Please don’t tell me you’re just a random guy in a costume,” she teased him, flying over his head to get to her new weapon of choice. He hunched his shoulders at that, clearly offended by the very suggestion. 

     “I can assure you, arañita,” he replied, ducking to avoid another punch. “I am very, very real.” And then he looked at her, just for a second. But it was the second she needed. She gestured to the fire extinguisher, hoping he’d know exactly what she was trying to say. And judging by the slight pause he gave, he did. He nodded, then turned back to the golden man, trying to keep him busy, making sure he didn’t catch onto their plan. “Unlike pretty boy over here.” 

     It worked. The man lit up in flames, screaming with anger as he rushed the Spiderman. X ripped the extinguisher out of the wall and threw it to him, the object landing perfectly in his hands. Without a moment’s hesitation, he aimed it at the flaming man and sprayed, disorienting him. When the can was finally empty, he smashed it over the villain’s head, the force of his blow knocking him out. X landed in front of his prone form, then looked up at the Spiderman across from her, gesturing for him to tie the man up with his webs. He tilted his head, considering, but then did as she’d asked, wrapping the man up firmly in his spider silk. At the same time, she began weaving her own web, twisting it into a thick, impenetrable rope. When she’d finished, she swung it into the air, looping it around the railing of the second floor balcony. Then she knelt down and attached the end to the Spiderman’s, suspending the now unconscious metal man in the air when she stood up and pulled on it. Perfect. Now to deal with the next problem at hand. She turned to the Spiderman, standing there, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. So he really did have powers. But then why had he left her to be the lone hero for so long? 

     “So, uh, thanks for your help but, I could have used it, like, a year ago?” she told him as much. He released his arms, his shoulders sinking slightly in weariness or exasperation, she couldn’t quite tell. 

     “That’s not how this works,” he replied cryptically, turning to the man hanging between them. He swung him over one wide shoulder, then reached up, a finger outstretched. Except that, it wasn’t a finger, not exactly. She looked on in bewilderment at the sharp, elongated tip, which he flicked across the spider silk rope, snapping it in half. Then he tossed something to her, a small, bracelet-like device which she caught easily. She waited for an explanation, but he just waved a hand at her expectantly. “Put it on. We’ve got a lot to get done.”

He'd brought her to his HQ after they'd returned the Molten Man to his home dimension. They'd been in the control room for about half an hour now, her nodding along enthusiastically to his explanations about his missions and the Spider society he'd brought together. He'd originally intended to just give her a brief overview - as he'd started doing when the other Spiders he'd brought back quickly lost interest in the science of it all - but the look on her face: contemplative, interested ... it had kept him rambling on. Until her eyes had narrowed, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried to comprehend his explanation.

     She frowned, her features scrunching up as she thought about how to phrase the question on her mind. “Okay, but isn’t you manipulating space and time to travel to different dimensions also going to contribute to rips in the aforementioned space and time?” 

     He paused, impressed; though he would never admit it. All the questions he’d been asked before had been dumb, brainless. Some of the other spiders hadn’t even bothered to ask any, silently accepting that they’d never be able to understand. But she … she questioned him, challenged his hypotheses, made him wonder if there could be more than just one way to do things.

     “Well, no. Because I’m not actually manipulating space and time,” he explained patiently. “I’m just travelling faster than the speed of light. It’s like taking shortcuts through space.” She nodded slowly, her eyebrows creased together in thought. It made sense. If she didn’t think about it for too long, that is. And there was still the question of the watches and how they managed to stabilise the bonds holding organic matter together outside of their own dimension. But maybe it was best to just leave it here for now. Before her brain started melting in her skull. 

     “Ugh, physics,” she groaned, pulling on her hood in exaggerated annoyance. “I hate physics.” He raised an eyebrow at her dramatics, slightly intrigued, against his better judgement. She claimed to hate it, but she seemed to grasp whatever concepts he threw at her quickly. He knew based on her file that she was a biologist - like him, though that was besides the point - which meant that she must have had to do some outside reading in order to understand at least the basic foundations of astrophysics and quantum mechanics. And she must have been especially smart to have somehow gained an understanding of those subjects all on her own. She gave herself a shake, oblivious to the thoughts running through his mind, and inhaled deeply. 

     “Okay, I’m good,” she decided, ending the discussion. “Can we take a break? My brain hurts.” He didn’t realise until she turned to him with a pleased expression on her face that he’d let out a snicker. His eyes widened, surprised by his own reaction, and he quickly cleared his throat, his features melting back into their usual scowl.  

     “Fine, okay.” He waved her off, dismissing her to go do whatever she wanted. “But be back here by four tomorrow. We’ve still got a lot to do.” He turned back to his computer, forcing himself to not look back at her, to not think about how his watch had lit up green the moment they'd met - an indication of a successful canon event.

     "Adiós, Miguel," she called out to him, her voice echoing through the cavernous room. "See you tomorrow!" He hunched over his desk, his voice just loud enough that she could catch it before she left. 

     "Hasta mañana, arañita.”

[fanfics4all]

Deep Sleep

Request: Yes / No  List was made by @alpaca-clouds

Requests are open only if its CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAY/ WINTER related <3 Have a nice day/night

FP Jones x Daughter!Reader 

Word count: 533

Warnings: Nothing!

Y/N: Your Name 

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Fp’s POV*

She was so tired. Her head was falling forward as she started nodding off, her eyes heavy as they flutter shut. She was too damn stubborn to admit it though. It was late and we were just watching a movie together.

“You should go to bed, kiddo.” I mentioned. She shook her head, but lent on my shoulder. We watched the movie for a bit longer, until Y/N started falling asleep again and slipped off my shoulder. Her head snapped up and looked around slightly dazed. 

“Come on, Queenie.” I said as I pat my thighs. 

“Mmm…” She hummed as her head rested against my thigh. I smiled and gently combed my fingers through her hair. Her breathing quickly evened out and she was asleep in no time. 

Once the movie was over I looked down at my daughter, she was still fast asleep. I grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. off. I stretched slightly, careful not to wake her. 

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” I said to myself. I gently placed my hands under her back and knees. I picked her up easily and she stirred slightly. 

“I got you kiddo.” I whispered. She mumbled something quietly and her eyes fluttered. 

“Relax, I’m just gettin’ you to bed.” I said with a smile. 

“Thanks Daddy.” She mumbled and I chuckled slightly. I gently laid her on her bed, pulling the covers over her and kiss her head. Her soft snores filled the room and I smiled. She needed as much sleep as she could get right now. I left the room and decided to watch a bit more T.V. while I waited for Jughead to come home. 

An hour later the front door was loudly opened and in walked my son. I turned off the T.V. and sent him a glare. He head right for the kitchen and started loudly looking for something to eat. 

“Boy you better quiet down.” I said and he looked up at me. 

“Why?” He asked confused. 

“Your sister’s asleep and she ain’t been sleeping well.” I said and he looked into the hallway. I got up and sent to go check on her. She was still in bed asleep and slightly drolling. I smiled and shook my head a bit. I walked back out to find Jug eating some left over chinese we had gotten. 

“Did I wake her?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“She’s out like a light. Make sure you’re quiet when you go to bed, I don’t want her wakin’ up tonight.” I said and he nodded. 

“She still stressing about school?” He asked and I sighed. 

“Yeah… She’s been up studying for weeks.” I answered. 

“I’ll try and distract her tomorrow, she needs to relax a bit.” He said and I smiled. 

“Good luck, she’s damn stubborn.” I said and Jughead laughed. 

“Oh, I know.” He said as he finished the food. 

“I’m gonna head to bed, night Dad.” He said. 

“Night, son.” I said and watched him quietly sneak into the room he shared with his sister. I yawned and decided it was time for me to head to bed too. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @camiconfessions-blog @thecaptainsgingersnap @cenyddtheunicorn @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448 @mamacobie13 @adamsbubblegumbitch

[annaraebananawriter]

noun, plural âmes dam·nées [ahmdah-ney] French 1. a person who is willingly or blindly the tool of another person. Icarus, oh, Icarus, hallowed be thy wings of gold, shining in the sun...who will save you now?

*kicks door in, stomps up to your desk/bed/wherever your reading this from, slams this fic down on your lap, kisses you long and hard, then turns and vanishes into the ether like nothing happened, leaving you dazed, confused, and a little h--*

Anyway.

Remember this?

Yeah. Yeah. *looks up, looks back down* Yeah.

This is a Shattered Dream Sans character study that's been in the works for a year. We don't need to talk about why it's almost 18k long. Just focus on the fact that it's done and you get to read it. I get to sit back and watch all of you tear each other apart. I get to wave down at you while sipping at a smoothie as you all curse my name.

I sincerely hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

Edit: Can't believe I posted this a week ago and forgot to mention that Shattered Dream belongs to @galacii-gallery ... Shaking my head in disappointment to myself. Anyways. I remembered now lol. So sorry!!

[sfb123]

Hands Down - Prologue

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: Can Liam and Riley still find their way to each other despite Riley turning down Maxwell's invitation to Cordonia?

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,945

Song Inspiration: Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional

A/N: I am participating in @kingliamappreciationweek Day 5 (Friendships/Relationships/AU, all of which apply to this prologue), as well as @choicesflashfics Week 29, "That's all we/they are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential." It will appear in bold below.

A/N 2: It's been a minute since I've posted anything, let alone started a new series. I've had bits and pieces of this story forever, but could never figure out how to put it all together. Then my aunt died (IYKYK), and I've been working on this ever since.

A/N 3: Thank you to those of you that I have been bombarding with ideas, snippets, and complaints. They're still going to be coming, probably now more than ever. But I appreciate you listening and humoring me. Especially @txemrn for looking over this prologue and making sure it was okay.

Tagging my usuals, if you'd like to be added or removed just let me know!

Liam was in a daze as he returned to his hotel suite, still thinking about her. They had only spent a couple of hours together, but it was all Liam needed to know that he was destined for so much more with Riley Brooks. 

He fell back onto the couch and pulled out his phone, texting Maxwell to see if he was still up, and if he would join Liam in his room. He was, and he would. 

While he had his phone in his hand, he opened his camera roll and looked fondly at the picture that they had taken together. Liam told her that it was because he wanted to remember his trip to the Statue of Liberty, but more than that, it was because he wanted to remember her. Not that she wasn’t permanently imprinted on his mind the second they locked eyes, but he wanted to have a photo of her, to have tangible proof that she wasn’t a dream. 

A knock at the door pulled Liam’s attention away from his screen. He stood, returning his phone to his pocket as he answered to find Maxwell grinning on the other side. 

“Well well well. Have fun, your highness?” His friends crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

Liam chuckled, he couldn’t help it. “More than you know. Please, come in.” He moved aside and motioned toward the sitting area. 

“Soooooo… tell me everything. You seemed pretty smitten, I’ve never seen you like that before!” 

“Maxwell, I’ve never felt like that before. She’s incredible. I’ve never felt more carefree, more happy.” Liam sighed at the memories of his evening. “That’s why I need your help.” 

Maxwell’s head tilted in confusion. “Me? What can I do?”

“Ramsford doesn’t have a sponsor for the social season, correct?” Maxwell nodded slowly, still not sure where this was going. “I want you to sponsor Riley, to bring her to Cordonia.”

“Liam… are you sure? I mean we’re not prepared for that. We weren’t expecting to sponsor anyone.” Maxwell hesitated. He wanted his friend to be happy, but he also knew his family’s financial state, and he wasn’t sure they would be able to support a sponsee. 

“Maxwell, I know your house has been having some… difficulties financially since your father took ill. I would be more than happy to pay for anything she needs. Discreetly, of course.” 

Maxwell studied Liam’s expression, he had never seen his friend like this before. The textbook definition of stoicism, the young prince was never one to show his emotions so openly. But now? He could see the desperation, the need clear as day on his friends face. 

“You really have it bad for her, don’t you?” 

“More than I ever thought possible.” Liam answered. 

“I’ll find her tomorrow morning before I head back.” He patted his friend on the shoulder. 

***

Liam stood in the receiving line greeting the suitors one by one. It was the first night of his social season, but all he could think about was her. She was all he had been able to think about since the night before. 

I hope she had a safe trip. 

She’s going to look so beautiful. 

I wonder if she’s been thinking of me the way I’ve been thinking of her. 

I need to move through this line faster. She’s in it somewhere, I need to see her again. 

Before long, the final suitor dipped into a courtesy and made her way back to the party. Liam looked around the room. Perhaps she had just gotten caught up in something and didn’t make it to the receiving line in time. 

“Liam? Is everything alright?” 

He turned around, to respond. “Yes father, I was just taking everything in.”

Constantine chuckled. “Well, enjoy it son. This is all for you. It’s the beginning of a whole new chapter.” 

Liam nodded, looking past his father to the bar where Maxwell was ordering a drink. “Father, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He didn’t wait for a response before stepping away. 

“Maxwell.” Liam greeted his friend as he stood next to him at the bar. 

“Oh, Liam. Hey!” Maxwell shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Happy social season!” He held up his drink, smiling awkwardly. 

“Where is she?” Liam asked, anxious to see her again.

“Riley?” Maxwell asked, trying to buy as much time as he could. Dreading having to deliver the news. “She… well, she’s not here.” 

“Why not? It’s the first event of the season, is she running late?” Liam began rambling, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “Was there an issue getting her a gown? I could…” 

“Liam,” Maxwell interrupted. “She’s not here as in, she’s not in Cordonia. She didn’t come.” 

“What… why?”

That Morning

“Riley!” Maxwell jogged up to the familiar figure as she unlocked the door of the bar. 

She turned to face him as the door opened. “Oh hey, Maxwell, right? Did you forget something last night?” 

“No, I actually had a proposition for you.” Riley furrowed her brows. “Do you have a minute to talk?” 

“Sure, come in. We don’t open for another hour, so I can spare a few.” She walked into the building, and he followed behind. 

As she approached the bar, she pulled down one of the stools and signaled for him to sit. He took a seat and she stepped behind the bar, grabbing an apron and tying it around her waist. 

“So, you and Liam seemed to hit it off last night.” Maxwell said, wanting to gauge Riley’s take on the evening. He wanted to make sure Liam didn’t misinterpret, or misunderstand her side of the outing. 

A slow smile spread across Riley’s face, the same one Liam had on his the night before. That’s when he knew the feeling was very mutual. 

“We did. I’ve never met anyone like him before. Hell, I didn’t think guys like him existed in real life. I hope whoever wins that social season realizes how lucky they are.” She said wistfully.

Maxwell grinned, this was going better than he had hoped. “What if you were the one to win it?” 

“Ha-ha, yeah right.” She replied, shaking her head and turning to empty the dishwasher. 

“No, I’m serious.” He assured her. “Each noble house sponsors a suitor. Since we don’t have any sisters we can pick whoever we want. And I pick you!” 

Riley froze and turned back around looking at Maxwell with a shocked expression. “You,” she pointed at him. “Want me,” she turned her finger to point at herself. “To come with you to a county I only just found out about like twelve hours ago, to join some fancy royal version of The Bachelor to try to marry a prince?” 

“I wasn’t going to word it quite like that, but more or less.” He shrugged. 

“But… why me?” 

“Riley, Liam couldn’t stop talking about you. He was so happy last night. Happier than I’ve ever seen him, and we’ve known each other forever. His life is full of meetings, and stuffy dinners, and boring things he does because it’s his duty. He gets to break away and have fun sometimes, but those times are getting less and less now that he’s ramping up to become King. He’s such a good person, he puts everyone else ahead of himself. He deserves to be the kind of happy you make him all the time.” 

Riley was silent, examining Maxwell’s expression. He seemed to be sincere. “Maxwell, that’s really sweet of you. Liam’s lucky to have a friend like you looking out for him.” She started. “But be realistic, even if I came with you, I’d have to quit both of my jobs and put school on hold. Basically quit my life to travel halfway across the world for the chance to be with Liam. It wouldn’t even be a guarantee.” 

“He asked me to sponsor you!” Maxwell blurted out. 

Riley’s breath caught in her throat, she hadn’t been expecting that. “But why? He doesn’t even know me.” 

“He knows enough to believe that there could be something between you two.” 

She blinked back the tears that had started to rise. She felt it too, but it was a major risk. Riley Brooks didn’t take risks. “Yeah, but even if I did come with you, that doesn’t mean anything. He told me about the social season, it’s not like he’s going to be able to just send the other girls home the second he sees me. Everyone gets a say, and I'm a nobody from America. I know nothing about your country. I don’t know about your customs. Hell, I don’t even like fancy foods, I’d probably make a fool of myself and be laughed out of the country at the first dinner.” 

“But Riley…”

“Maxwell,” She reached across the bar, placing her hand over his. “You’re such a good friend to come here for him. But my answer is no. Maybe if we were in a different time, or a different place, but we’re here. These are the cards we were dealt, our lives are just too different for it to work.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I need to get things set up to open. Have a safe trip back.” She turned and walked to the back, leaving Maxwell alone. 

“I’m so sorry Liam. I tried, I really did.” Maxwell said sympathetically. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes, despite his attempts to remain composed. “I don’t know if it helps or hurts, but she had the same dreamy look on her face when she talked about you that you had when you talked about her. Everything you felt last night, she felt it too.” 

Liam cleared his throat, “Thank you Maxwell. It was a longshot, but I’m very grateful to you for trying. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded solemnly to his friend before walking away, moving to the double doors that lead to the balcony. 

He stepped outside and breathed a sigh of relief that he was alone. He approached the balustrade, leaning his forearms against it as he gazed out to the garden maze. He thought about Riley, what she was doing right now, if she missed him as much as he missed her. 

Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in the magic of the evening, he had overromanticized their connection. He took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up their picture. He examined their faces, they both looked so happy. He placed his thumb and index finger on the screen, dragging them apart to zoom in on her face. He was trained to read people, and everything about her, both in that moment, and in the photo, told him that she had been feeling exactly what he had been. Even Maxwell had noticed it the next day when he went to talk to her. 

It just hadn’t been enough. 

“That's all we are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential.” He lamented as he continued to stare down at the picture, remembering their night together. 

“Liam.” His father’s short tone startled him so much that he nearly dropped his phone off of the balcony. 

“Father,” he turned, discreetly returning his device to his pocket. 

“What are you doing out here by yourself? You should be in there spending time with your suitors. The season is going to go by quickly, you need to take every opportunity to get to know your potential brides.” 

“Yes father.” Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get Riley out of his mind. 

**********

Permatag:

@3pawandme @alj4890 @busywoman @charlotteg234 @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @differenttyphoonwerewolf @emkay512 @foreverethereal123 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @imashybish @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @secretaryunpaid @sincerelyella @theroyalheirshadowhunter @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Liam:

@amandablink @custaroonie @jared2612

TRR:

@21-wishes @ao719 @belencha777 @burnsoslow @lovingchoices14 @the0afnan @xpandass420x

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @kingliamappreciationweek @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part. warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: next [price's treat] last

You spent your whole day training and working out. You asked Gaz to spar with you, and he kindly obliged. Sparring with Gaz honestly felt fairer as he was closer to your height. You learned a little bit about him as he learned more about you. He was kind and respectable, and you didn't feel somewhat awkward around him like you did Soap or Ghost. 

You head back for lunch, feeling famished from physical activities. Before you can make it in, Soap greets you with an excited grin, "Y'heard about tonight, lass?"

"Um, no, what's up?" you questioned with a confused look on your face. 

"Cap is treating us all! Drinks, food, hotel room! You'll be there, right?!" 

"Yeah, I guess so," you giggle.

"And you don't have to be in uniform, you can dress casually if you'd like!" Soap exclaimed.

"Ugh, thank God, I could use a break from this," you groan, pleased.

--

You get ready for the get-together, you didn't pack much of anything casual, but you had a tank top and flannel, along with a pair of black pants ripped at the knee. You also wash your face and put on a light layer of mascara and touch up your brows. Letting your hair down and brushing it out, you're honestly glad to see yourself out of that uniform. You buttoned the flannel down starting halfway, it squeezed your curves pretty well but was also comfy. 

You exit to the common room and felt 4 pairs of eyes on you, somewhat predatory. To be fair, it's the first time they've seen you dress like... this, and they don't get to see women just any time they please.

Soap's gaze fell on you longer than it should've until he finally cleared his throat and asked, "You look good, Diamond."

"Pfft, thanks, Soap. I didn't have much to choose from. Honestly, I need to buy more clothes," you laughed it off. 

"Well, come on kids, I'm fuckin' hungry and want some beer!" Price hollered, rushing everyone.

--

On the ride there you were sat in between Gaz and Soap while Ghost and Price rode up front. 

Soap's a sweetheart and holds your hand, helping you out of the middle seat, and even holds the door open for you. You all follow Price to a circle booth, and you were sat on the edge, across from Ghost, Price, and Gaz while Soap stayed next to you.

You listen to their stories, them reminiscing on past missions before you joined, and laugh at their playful banter. Sometimes you didn't know when they were joking they seemed so serious. 

--

You down 5 shots of vodka, reaching your limit. Your body felt warm, your head was fuzzy and you were feeling fine, but was hungry and needed to eat before the alcohol got the best of you. It honestly already was.

You were astounded when you watched Soap down almost 3 bottles until he was showing that he was drunk, words slurring, accent getting richer and harder to understand. 

Soap looked at you and smirked, "Y'look good drinkin', Diamond."

You hide your laugh behind your hand, "Look good?"

"Yea, bonnie. I could rock your world," he whispered, words slurring.

"Oh," you honestly blush, his accent doesn't help this case. You study the group around you, Price and Gaz having their own conversation, but Ghost's eyes lurk on Soap, who's flirting with you. His shoulders rise and fall slowly as he breathes. You return your daze to Soap, smirking at him and you whisper in his ear playfully, "Is that right, Johnny?" His eyes roll at you saying his name like that, but you don't want to give anyone the wrong impression, so you simply laugh it off and start drinking a bunch of water, the food finally arrives and you rub your hands together, excited for a hot meal.

If only you knew how watching what unraveled in front of his eyes burned and scratched at his stomach. 

Soap's lustful gaze at you was interrupted as a steak was placed in front of him. You noticed Ghost didn't get anything besides bourbon, and you hadn't seen him lift the mask but he's managed to down more than half of it.

The captain proposes a toast, and you down one more shot, regrettably, of vodka. The alcohol took its course through your veins and hit your stomach, making you feel like all the food you ate was for nothing.

You push your plate of food away and set your head down on the table, causing Gaz to check on you.

"I'm not feeling too well..." you admit. "I think I need to go lay down."

"You can't walk back by yourself," Gaz sounded concerned, then asked Ghost if he would accompany you to your room as you shouldn't walk by yourself at night.

Ghost grunts as he gets up, showing to be unaffected by the alcohol. You'd wonder how if you weren't feeling like shit. I'm going to regret this in the morning, fuck. 

--

You stumble out of the pub and start walking to the hotel, trying to do it by yourself rather than be around Ghost. 

He walks to catch up with you as you stumble right on your ass. "Fuck," you sigh, defeated, embarrassed. 

Ghost offered a hand to help you up and you stubbornly declined, earning a huff from him. His breaths were ragged and the thought crossed your mind, jeez, what's wrong with him now?

"I can walk by my fffucking s-self!" you proclaimed, having to pause every few steps.

"Yeah, I can see that," Ghost played into your act. 

"I don't need your help, asshole!" you yell at him loud enough for anyone to probably hear, not caring about the consequences. 

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost spat, annoyed. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, and while you fought and punched his back, you realized you were doing nothing and gave up. He puts you down in front of your door and tells you to get your key out, and actually helps you inside your room. What a dick, you thought, still.

He grabbed a tall glass of water while you instantly fell on the bed, bringing it to you, "You need to drink water, y/l/n."

"Why the fuck do you care, you're always so mean to me," you trail off.

He sighs, stiffly, "Sorry. Drink water, and rest up. Still got a job t'do tomorrow." 

You didn't hear him exit the room, nor cared. You just needed to rest your eyes for a minute. 

--

After a couple of hours from dozing off, you woke up at 0054. You chug a shit ton of water and use the restroom, rubbing your eyes as you walk back to the bed. Fuck, I hope I don't have a hangover. 

[cookinguptales]

I would just like to state again, for the record, that freaking no one does opening paragraphs like Shirley Jackson does opening paragraphs.

Like everyone knows The Haunting of Hill House, but it bears repeating:

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against the hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

And that is incredible enough, that is already one of the best openings to a novel in history, but THEN.

Then we have We Have Always Lived In The Castle!!!

"My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead."

Has any opening paragraph ever made me want to know more about a character? No! I don't think so! I am fucking obsessed with Merricat and I want to put her in a jar and study her like a bug!

Like I'm always impressed with Jackson's craft, but opening paragraphs are so hard. They are so hard! And she always seems to craft one that draws you right into the web of horror that she's creating in that book. You're always pulled right into that house, whether it's lurking the halls of Hill House, not sane, or the incestuously isolated Blackwood residence. You're drawn into that madness instantly, and instantly you understand these characters who will not be understood by those around them.

I love the way she can draw you into the POV of protagonists who simply do not interact with reality to the point where you become comfortable living in their version of reality, too. You get them even as it fascinates and horrifies you. I feel like that's one reason why her books are so effective.

Every mind can break, but every mind does so in such a specific way. And it's the specificity of the madness and the ability to convey it in a way that makes you feel it, too, y'know? You come to realize that these women could never have been anything else, could never have been sane, because they live in homes that are... well, not sane. Their world is not sane, so how could they be? How could any of us be?

So you get pulled into this whirlpool of reality-shifting madness and deeply unreliable narrators and when you finally free yourself at the end of the book, you feel like you're walking back out into the sun squinting, dazed. Confused to find yourself back in a reality that makes some semblance of sense, but unable now to ignore the seams in it.

Goddamn, what an artist.

[cococassey]

Webtoon: After School Lessons for Unripe Apples (ch 1 to 126)

Author/Artist: Soonkki

Spoiler free:

Why do I do this to myself? To try chasing my Lovely Runner blues away, now I'm hooked to korean webtoon ASLFUA 😭! Which is exponentially worse because 1. it's still ongoing, 2. not 100% assured the OTP will end up together (Soonki pls pinky promise me). Well, at least it has free official eng translations (big plus)!

Got curious because I saw the fanart. It's not an art style I usually go for, but the author is Soonkki. Cheese in the trap was a kdrama I was intrigued of from the start (Jung!), but didn't get to finish because of the negative reviews, but I'll check out the webtoon soon which is finished yay!

Lovely Runner made me miss coming of age, youth romance stories, so this one really fits the bill. Cheol is a very tall big built male lead, while Mi-ae is a small pea, which reminded me a lot of the Sun Jae-Sol dynamic. But that's where most of the similarities end. This is about Mi-ae's school life adventures, trying her hardest to be friends with the new scary deskmate (who of course is a softie inside), trying his darnest to be inconspicuous at school, and failing miserably at ignoring her lol.

A very very slow burn, slice of life kind of feel at the start, a lot of studying involved, but once it gets going, I finished 3 years worth of content in a daze in 2 days! I'm kind of weak for the energizer bunny girl chasing after the grumpy broody guy trope, so this is right up my alley.

Mi-ae is just a ball of positivity. She can be sad of stuff, but not for long. Cheol who only wants to be on the down low, and wants nothing to do with such a quirky chaotic girl, but of course he can't help himself. He's just so protective of those he perceived to be picked upon. Seeing closed up Cheol gradually opening up because of Mi-ae's exuberance is a joy to watch.

Following Cheol and Mi-ae growing up together, traversing school, friendship, and sorting out their inexplicable confusing feelings (squeeee). The whole series is such a happy pill! Can't wait to see more after school group hijinks, and the growth of all the characters and their relationships.

Note: there is some triggering content like school corporal punishment, bullying, but nothing too detailed on page.

Spoilers:

My fave story arcs so far:

- Relentless Mi-ae asking frenemy Honggyu for soccer lessons because of Cheol, and clueless protective Cheol getting frustrated where Mi-ae keeps running off with scrapes all over. This is the arc where Cheol finally got worn down and accepted her millionth time offer of friendship lol.

- Jinseop's hilarious haircut scene! Enough said.

- Jinseop, who you'll first think as the love triangle or bully, suddenly becomes Cheol's and Mi-ae's love cupid to propel these two clueless lovebirds along.

- Cheol going absolutely bonkers about that accidental kiss. Priceless.

- Honggyu and Mi-ae's whole chaotic birthday arc where the gang helped Honggyu escape bullies. Starts with Cheol's jealousy antics, showing up suddenly on Jinseop and Mi-ae's impromptu date, and ended the adventurous day with crumbs of Cheol-Mae sweetness.

Can't wait for more...the mystery of Jisu (the real love triangle?), and Cheol's past/scar! Oh no it doesn't really bode well for me to get invested as CITT completed in 7 yrs. No thanks Soonkki, for the torture of ending the eng webtoon so far in a kiss-hanger. It's like a treat and torture at the same time.

[tennessoui]

The pool boy au was really interesting from a character study perspective. How much more was Obi-Wan actually manipulating from behind the scenes than he actually let on? Was he already putting on an act by the moment he gave Anakin the scotch, or did he start way earlier, like when he was breaking Satine’s glass statues? (Rhetorical question, ofc) If so, sounds appropriately pretentious for a hotshot film director.

I feel like a lot of the things he said were clues that he was not actually pretending to talk to Satine the whole time (for example, how he seemed to be talking to someone a lot more submissive and complacent than Satine is characterized as being). I imagined Satine as another wealthy aristocrat/famous actress with nothing to lose by divorcing him, so I was surprised when he implied that she was a gold digger. I like the room left for doubt and how since Anakin is an unreliable narrator, it’s hard to tell how much he was actually being played.

Also, I feel like Fetish would be the perfect song for this au.

what an excellent ask!!! love ok

for me, obi-wan's character is all about being opportunistic, manipulative, and in control -- i don't think he threw satine's statues in order to get anakin to come looking. i think that was a genuine slip of control where he wanted to break something and there they were: wholly his ex-wife's, wholly things she liked that represented a very unsavory aspect of his marriage. he's not thinking about anakin at all yet...

not until he sees him standing there, shirtless and sweaty like he always fucking is around obi-wan for fucks sake - but now, obi-wan is single, now anakin is of age, it's perfect and obi-wan is an opportunist. i think he decided to fuck anakin right then, but i think everything after was more hastily thrown together.

obi-wan's every action after seeing anakin is just so manipulative--they're the actions of a man who is desperately trying to regain his sense of control. he even asks anakin to walk over broken glass for him to see if he would do it, see how submissive he would be for him (and i think that's the moment obi-wan decides he'll keep him after fucking him)

the scotch is another test, to push his boundaries and see how much he'll bend for obi-wan. i think he's actually probably a little surprised anakin suggests that he pretend to be satine: he just really leans into it because it's an opportunity to dominate the memory of his wife (who was absolutely not as submissive or bitchy as obi-wan tells anakin)

from the moment anakin steps out of the bathroom, i think obi-wan enjoys the night in 2 ways. he's dominating his ex-wife, sort of, and he's fucking the pool boy, who is everything satine isn't: specifically, submissive and willing to go along with everything obi-wan says. so i think he finds pleasure in saying nasty things to anakin about his ex-wife, but i don't think he ever loses track of who is actually in his bed !! he's enjoying anakin too much for that

(but i think he's also really enjoying making anakin confused and dazed and needy by bringing his ex wife back into the picture every so often)

[tendingtenderpaws]

Science-fiction cellular regeneration equipment designed to heal and help gone wrong (I'm sure a lot of this could apply to magic, too)

The equipment is noisy and every time it's brought near the patient they flinch and squirm, aggravating their wounds and prolonging the pain they're in

A dazed, confused, or delirious patient unable to recognize the equipment as different from a weapon and resisting or refusing treatment, lashing out at the caregiver or straight-up running away

The healing equipment used in a hurry, or by a careless caregiver who doesn't fully remove any bullets or shrapnel from the patient, and the patient's cells rebuild themselves around the foreign body

See also: the cellular regeneration working to push the foreign body slowly from the inside out

The action of cells being regenerated being unbearably cold or terribly hot, putting the character in more pain now so they heal better later

Regeneration technology only speeding up the healing after tried and true traumatic medical treatments: setting bones, being intubated and/or hooked up to an IV, stitches, extractive surgeries, leading to...

Characters who are no longer injured, but still feeling physical exhaustion and emotional shock from the trauma (and having to continue soldiering on because "they look fine")

A character who had become so used to the speed of the tech that having to heal "traditionally" is so much more painful than before they had been healed that way (and maybe they overexert themselves too soon because they get restless during their longer recovery period)

An injury gushing blood being quickly sealed and stopped, but the patient is left barely breathing, delirious, and with a dangerously low pulse from the blood loss

A barely-conscious caretaker struggling between pained gasps to explain to someone else how to use the equipment because they can't

Not an original thought by any means, but always a good one: the patient is fully conscious and aware of their cells regenerating and muscles knitting back together <3

And of course: a character studying themselves in the mirror, running their fingertips over soft, smooth skin where it should be raised and scarred if their injuries had been allowed to heal normally

[dailycharacteroption]

Retrograde Revision 3: Archivist

(art by suomar on DeviantArt)

Another case of bards in name only, today we’re looking at an archetype that is essentially a librarian.

Described as being “bards that eschew the dramatic aspects of their training”, that need not necessarily be the case, as archivists could easily have gained their arcane/occult magic by studying the body of work under their care rather than having gone to any bardic college.

Either way, they are still associated with academia, and may have a personal history as a scholar first.

The badass librarian has been a thing in recent decades, so whether they are archivists or scientists doing field work, these brilliant minds can prove how effective their stores of knowledge are both on and off the battlefield.

This archetype feels like a first pass at a non-loremaster knowledge-based character, the sort of thing that would evolve later into the overall vibe of the investigator class, so it’s interesting to see where it got it’s start.

Rather than inspire bravery in others, archivists instead focus on providing running commentary and guidance on how to fight the creatures they and their allies are currently facing. While they have to identify them first, doing so gives their allies an offensive and defensive buff against them as they point out vulnerabilities and limitations in the subject’s attack and defense.

Whether it be supernatural boredom or the sheer crushing weight of their focus on minutiae, these archivists can wax technical on a subject to daze or confuse those under the effects of one of their “fascinating” lectures (how fascinating they actually are may vary.” Later on, they can even affect whole crowds this way.

Predating the skald ability of the same name, these archivists know so much that they are true lore masters, able to recall incredible amounts of information on a topic a few times per day.

Additionally, their magical lore makes them better suited to identifying magic items, disabling magical traps, and recognizing magical runes in time to better brace themselves against their effects.

Furthermore, they also demonstrate proficiency with all skills, which only grows over time.

More powerful archivists are so knowledgeable that they can predict a possible outcome and occasionally take the most average result on any sort of activity, including when attacking and resisting, which can be useful in an emergency.

The archivist, with it’s eventual ability to treat every single skill as a class skill, as well as taking 10 often and 20 a few times per day at a low level, has the potential to be the arguably best skill monkey in the game. The base combat performance providing both an offensive and defensive buff against identified foes is also very nice, though the ability to daze or confuse foes that are already fascinated is of dubious unsability, since most situations in which you’d fascinate, you’re trying to avoid combat, and it’s not clear how confusion and daze work in regards to keeping people fascinated when they might start punching each other. Beyond that, however, I recommend spell and feat choices that help you have an at least partial answer to any situation you come across. Damage spells with a variety of types, utility spells, debuffs, buffs, you name it.

The nature of their ability to debuff foes they fascinate might give some the assumption that they are boring or dry lecturers, but that doesn’t have to be the case. It could be that their passionate diatribes are simply bewildering to others, and you can certainly portray them as being passionate about many a subject.

A mystic prank goes wrong when a bookish student cast a forbidden spell to get back at his classmates, and now they are all stuck inside a demiplane centered around the most popular tabletop board game in the school. Experienced adventurers are needed to enter the game’s world, master the rules, and rescue the students.

Palanz Whisperwind has never seen any of the monsters he’s spent his whole life studying. In need of a change of pace, he hires a party of adventurers to escort him on this field study. Putting up with his incessant droning and condescending attitude may drive the party up the wall, though.

The secret name of Falrax, the demon lord of night, is hidden in the secret archives of the Library of Thoumous Rang. Getting to the repository, however, will prove difficult, as the gynosphinx archivist Written Conundrum is loath to allow the ignorant and uninitiated to touch her tomes, even if the fate of the world is on the line.