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gatorbites-imagines · 2 months ago

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Kinktober day 5

Kurt Wagner + Uniform Kink

Priest Kurt :3 Also talks of religious trauma.I know religious imagery hates to see me comin. Readers a visible mutant, inspired somewhat by Killer croc. Readers 8ft tall.

I know very little about catholic priests, the area I grew up was Lutheran. This also takes place at some point on Krakoa. This ended up being more story driven honestly, but I had fun writing it anyways. Not proofread, because I cant be bothered.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

You had a strained relationship with religion, even if your entire family had been true to the faith. You may have been too, years ago, before your mutation manifested. Back when you had been nothing but their darling son, their gift from whatever god they worshipped, after so many years of trying. The gift just seemed giving, as your parents had more kids after you, giving you siblings.

You didn’t have many good memories with them. You got to hold the first two that were born, even play with them, but then your mutation started. It started out as patches of dry skin, something that could be treated with thick ointments and long baths. They’d thought it was a skin disease back then, and it had been winter, so it was all blamed on the dry weather.

It was harder to deny when the scales started appearing, and when you woke up to your gums bleeding from your new teeth growing in. your sobbing had awoken your mother, who had screamed bloody murder when she saw you. There weren’t many memories of that night, or the next couple of years at that. The human mind worked in strange ways, and yours decided to supress that part of your childhood.

All you remembered were flashes of coldness, of being locked away in what could only have been the basement. Of the churches priests and whoever else they thought might “cure” you of your “disease”. You remembered your father yelling about what he must have done wrong to gain a demon like you as his child. You remembered the quiet whispers in the kitchen at night, that you only were able to hear because of your enchanted senses.

You remember how your mother whispered to your aunt, that this was her fault. That you were the result of an affair, so this had to be God punishing her for her sins. You heard how more siblings were born, how they were told to stay away from the basement no matter what, and punished hard if they even went near it. There wasn’t much entertainment down there, your so-called parents only leaving you with religious texts and whatever else they thought might “save” you.

There was no want inside you to get out, even after what must have been years. Your mutation meant you barely needed to eat, to drink, or sleep. Most of your time was simply spent, listening to your family. Because of that, you learned the same things your siblings did because they needed help with homework, or you got to keep up with the news on the radio. You had accepted it.

It was only when one of your youngest siblings discovered you that it all crumbled. She was young, as small as you had been the day your dry skin started appearing. You knew her name, having heard your mother sing her praises because she had always wanted a daughter. And she wasn’t afraid of you. She spoke to you, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, telling you about mass, about how God would love you anyways, even if you looked different, because he loved everyone.

But the good never lasts, and she was discovered by your not so shared father, and she was punished. Her screaming awoke something deep and feral inside you, a hatred you had never tapped into. Something that had you tearing your chains like they were made of sugar, your claws drawing deep gouges in the walls as you wrenched your way upstairs. The door split like paper under your giant clawed, scaley hand, the hand of a monster, a demon.

The noise you let out was like that of the demons of hell, something deep, snarling and terrifying. Your mother and fathers’ eyes widened in terror, your brothers, the two you got to hold, were terrified. The siblings that never knew you existed wet themselves or started crying in terror. And your sister. Your sweet. kind sister, was a curled-up bleeding ball on the floor, and yet she still smiled at you.

None of the family dared move as you picked her up, she was so small she fit in one of your giant clawed hands. You had never realized how big you were, but as you stared down at your parents with such hatred, it truly sank in. your father who had always seemed so big, as if he were God himself, trembled like a leaf because of you.

They didn’t stop you as you left, tearing the front door of its hinges with nothing but a small nudge, leaving it split in two in the front yard. It was night, and it was one of those white picket fence neighbourhoods, where you preached Gods love, but ignored how the neighbour beat their children bloody.

Having your sister die in your arms was what broke you, for a long time. You weren’t older than 20 at the time, you at least thought that was your age. And yet, you stood taller than any human man, broader and strong enough to tear buildings apart. And still you couldn’t save her. you wanted to rampage, to kill and destroy everyone and everything. But you knew your sister loved this place, even after they mistreated her so. So in the end you buried her somewhere nice, and left.

The brotherhood of mutants wasn’t a choice you thought much about taking. You were no hero, and by the time you learned about the x-men, there was already way too much blood on your hands and in your teeth. That was where you met Kurt, on the battlefield. At that point he was just an enemy, someone you could turn that deep burning rage against. Feed that blood thirsty demon in your chest, to make it quiet for a little while once more.

It took you years to learn more than that they were enemies, the x-men. Your pain must have been written on your face from the very start, even The Wolverine seemed to have a semblance of worry for you. But you didn’t care, you just needed to hurt somebody, and it was easy to run in the direction you were given and lose yourself to your demons.

There were times you would pray, times when you were alone and hurting more than normal. But it never felt like God answered. And why would he. You were a monster put on this earth to punish your mother for her sins, her very sins woven deep into your very being and fuelling you.

At some point you left the brotherhood. Even that wasn’t enough anymore to quiet your demons and pain. It had been years at that point, and Nightcrawler was still just an enemy who’d grown from a small annoying pipsqueak to a slightly bigger but even more annoying pipsqueak. That very furry blue elf had a knack for finding you, wherever you went.

Most of the time you assumed he wanted to fight, but Nightcrawler, Kurt, would just sit by you in his own contemplating silence. At times he talked, other times he was silent. Sometimes he sat close beside you, sometimes meters away. Him talking about his faith made your heart race, but knowing he too experienced pain because of his appearance helped, somewhat.

Time still passed, you still weren’t a good person. The x-men and mutant-kind settled down on Krakoa. You did not, at least not for a long time. You had settled down far away from everything, somewhere with a nice deep lake where you could sink to the bottom, and imagine you were in purgatory because you never thought you would go to heaven.

Of all people to drag you to Krakoa, you had never imagined it would be The Wolverine, Logan. He gave some big spiel about hating yourself ruining it all for you, trust him, he knew. At that point in your life, you didn’t care much, nothing mattered and everything was just a blur, the demon in your chest dormant and worthless.

Krakoa was nice, people even treated you kindly even after your time with the brotherhood. Your suffering must have been so obvious for them to just accept you with such open arms, thinking about it made you cringe. Kurt was still nice. He was older, had the starts of a moustache, and the garb of a priest.

Seeing the outfit made your pupils sharpen and your heart lurch, some deeply ingrained animal reaction. Hearing about the faith he ran, smoothed down some of your sharp scales, something that yes, had its roots in Catholicism, but was so much more accepting and kinder. The thought of being part of it made your mouth sour, but there was also no pressure from anywhere to join.

You and Kurt grew closer, over time. It was a slow and careful path, all your relationships on this island were. But Kurt was special, in the way he smiled, the way he smelled, the way you became so comfortable in his presence that he could sit on your shoulders. And the way you both grew so close, that it didn’t even fell like sin when he kissed you.

Kissing Kurt must have been what Adam and Eve felt when biting the apple, tempted by the snake to break the one rule they were given to follow. And yet, like Adam and Eve, you broke that rule anyways. Kurts’s fur wasn’t long, but it was soft to the touch, some areas longer than others and carrying a natural curl. The scent of sulphur and the incense he would use in his thurible, became what put the demon inside you to rest, for good.

And maybe Kurt was pavloving you a little. It wasn’t on purpose, you think. He would simply regularly wear his priest outfit, his alb, his chasuble, his stole and amice. And he would kiss you and taste like ambrosia, like something worth sinning for. Kurt would smell and taste so divine, and would touch you so lovingly. At times you were scared to touch, fearing you would hurt him too, but even then, Kurt taught you to trust yourself.

So, who could you truly blame for getting heated, whenever you got to watch Kurt dress himself. You didn’t have a tail like he did, but you did bury yourself in your giant shared bed and rumble deep in your chest like the reptile you shared features with. It seemed so sinful and sensual, even if it truly wasn’t his intention. To see how carefully Kurt draped fabric over his body, or how his tail would flick and make the light fabrics flutter. It made a whole never demon inside you yearn.

You didn’t want to dirty his outfit, shaming yourself for even thinking it. How sinful, how evil, how demonic. But it was yet another thing you sucked at hiding, to the point where the other x-men, your friends now, started making jokes that you churred whenever Kurt would flutter by in it.

You denied it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t planned out how to give you what you both wanted. Which was how you found yourself laying back against your many pillows, Kurt in nothing but his alb and prayer beads in your lap, his three fingered hands against your chest.

It still felt so terrifying to indulge in those wants, even as you dug your claws into the bed as Kurt so slowly rode you, his hips moving at a pace that had your toes curling. Anything he did would have most likely had that reaction, but his soft accented voice cooing loving words at you, only served to leave you feeling more melted on the insides.

It was embarrassing how fast you finished. But who could blame you. You never had much experience, hell, you could count on two hands how many times you had ever touched yourself. It was no surprise you would cum so quickly, Kurts’s tail thrashing from side to side as he was filled more than he imagined possible.

His kisses were still just as sweet, as he worked himself over the edge too, dirtying his alb and your scaley stomach. This moment, Kurts’s act of dirtying his uniform himself, seemed to have been the only sign you needed, after that it was free game. He was the apple and the snake at the same time, packaged in blue fur and yellow eyes, his tail curling in coy ways only you knew how to read.

Kurt could never hate it, instead almost preening with pride as you finally let yourself indulge. Fucking him on the altar was a fantasy he had carried for a while, and when you finally did it the blue furred mutant almost passed out from how hard he finished, having to dig his fangs into his stole to keep from wailing at the intensity.

You would never step foot back into religion again, never to the extent where you could call yourself someone of faith, and Kurt would never force you. But you did end up going to Kurts services, on rare occasions, but that was more because you were excited for what would happen afterwards, after everyone else left. There was a demon in your chest, born from your family’s sins, fed by your own and nurtured to destroy. But Kurt tamed it, brushed its fur and held it close. There was a demon, and it was his.

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lunarmoves · 2 months ago

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who i see, looking back at me (ch1)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, ooc sebastian probably, i took creative liberties with his mom and siblings, check masterlist for fic summary

a/n: this is something i decided to write after scouring ao3 and tumblr for anything like it and finding nothing. i was just- (thanos voice) "fine i'll do it myself." hope you guys enjoy! i cant believe im simping for a roblox fish man in the year 2024, literally who am i.

word count: 9.5k+

masterlist

ao3 link

When your husband was executed for a crime he did not commit, you decided to move out to the seaside.

It was a way to just… get away from everything. Start fresh. His face was plastered all over the news after his death sentence. Everywhere you went, it felt as though people were staring at you. Judging you. Hushed whispers followed you just as much as the haunted look on Sebastian’s face when he’d taken his mugshot. It was—unbearable. You needed to get out and away from all the people who only saw you as the partner to a murderer.

His presence lingered everywhere, back at your tiny apartment in the city. From the framed pictures on the wall, to the green toothbrush next to yours, and the faint smell of cinnamon attached to your bedsheets. It was—overwhelming, in more ways than one. You itched and itched with the urge to get out. You stayed only as long as you needed to after his death to go through the process of moving out. It took a couple of weeks. The you from the future would applaud you for lasting longer than a few days, you were certain.

You didn’t know what to do with all of his things. You sold his expensive belongings unclaimed by his family, like his laptop, electric guitar, and gaming system. The more materialistic items were packed into bins to donate to charity—his old textbooks, binders of sheet music, clothes he seldom wore. The rest you separated into two boxes. One had some things you figured would be appreciated by his mother. The album of his family he kept tucked away in his desk. A small teddy bear he’d had since he was a toddler. Some of his favorite shirts and jewelry he’d been gifted from his siblings.

The other had things you could not bring yourself to part with.

You spent a while hovered over that box, tracing the worn edges of a red and black flannel that he always wore around your apartment. There was a small panda plushie that you won at an amusement park on one of your dates and decided to give to him when he said it was ugly-looking. A sketchbook he doodled in from time to time that you didn’t have the heart to open, but knew you would regret giving away. A crumpled piece of paper with hastily scribbled vows on them. Each and every item in the box held some amount of sentimental value—you wondered if it would ever haunt you, keeping them. Part of you already knew the answer.

When you dropped off Sebastian’s things at his mother’s house, you couldn’t help the way your heart sank deep into your chest when she opened the door. Maria was a beautiful woman, and you saw traces of Sebastian in her every time you saw her. The warm honey of her skin, the crinkle of her blue eyes, even the way she smiled. It made your eyes sting and ache with something fierce. Agonizing, even now. Especially now.

She looked at you with a sad smile, gratefully accepting the small box you offered her. “Gracias, sweetie,” she said, hands tightening on the edges of the cardboard. “I appreciate you coming out all this way.”

“It was no problem,” you told her, shifting slightly on your feet. You hadn’t seen her since—well… You cleared your throat, doing your best to ignore a pang of guilt and this ever so tightening feeling in your chest. “How are you doing?”

She hummed, a weary thing that matched the dark circles under her eyes and the new streaks of gray in her hair. She looked down at the box. “No muy bien,” she murmured, “but who would after losing a child so wrongfully? I can only hope it gets better to handle with time.” Her gaze lifted up to meet your own. “What about you, hm? Almost done packing?”

Blue eyes the same shade as his. You looked away, staring down at your shoes and her slippered feet. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Just gotta put a few more boxes into the car.”

“I do not blame you for wanting to get away,” she chuckled. “I would too, if I could.”

As though on cue, there was the sound of a crash somewhere behind her, immediately followed by raised voices. Sebastian’s siblings causing havoc, no doubt. Maria whipped around to shout into her house. “Isidora! Lucas! ¡Comportense!” After she got two distant apologies, she turned back to give you a look. “See what I mean?”

You could only manage a stiff nod, not quite trusting your voice. That feeling in your chest was growing by the second, and you were not sure how long you would last. Maria didn’t deserve this, but you couldn’t help it. You felt like you were being stifled under a large, unforgiving pillow.

You could feel the way she watched you—that same probing stare that Sebastian often wore when he could sense you weren’t feeling well. You continued to stare resolutely at the ground, not wanting her to crack you open like a book to see the way you just couldn’t stand being here right now. She sighed, and you had to suppress a wince.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she finally said, turning slightly to head back inside. “No eres una desconocida, you hear? You are always welcome here.”

“Right,” you whispered, and when you finally managed to pull your gaze back up to her face, she only gave you a small, melancholy smile before gently closing the door. You stood there for a moment more, heart beating in your throat as you cursed yourself for being a coward.

The drive down to the seaside was only a few hours. It was relaxing, in its own way, as you passed by concrete buildings that slowly melted away into wide, open fields. Rolling hills and staggering cliffs. You could almost taste the change in the air the closer you got. The stale, musty scent of the city was replaced by a fresh, salty breeze. If you listened close enough, you could hear the distant roar of the ocean as its waves crashed against rock. And once you arrived at what would be your new home for a long, long time, you took a moment to just stand outside and breathe.

One breath in, one breath out. The seaside air felt cool on your heated face. Out here, you felt like everything could be put behind you. A breath of fresh air to chase away the way you hurt inside. You could finally shed the layer of muddled emotions and thoughts that had surrounded you for weeks.

If only it was that easy. Still… Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

The cottage you were moving into was a quaint thing, with just enough space for you to live comfortably on your own. It was more than a steal, and you were thankful that you’d managed to snatch it up before anyone else could—and at a reasonable price, too. It sat near the top of a small cove, overlooking miles and miles of open water. If you walked down to the shore—away from the cove—there was a small dock that jutted out into the sea like a pirate’s plank. It was old, though, covered in mold and made of rotting wood that creaked ominously in the breeze. You didn’t dare risk venturing out on it.

It took you most of the rest of the day to bring all your belongings inside and unpack everything. You stood in what would be your living room, a mess of boxes scattered all around you, and felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t make heads nor tails of. Your eyes landed on that small box of Sebastian’s things, and you turned away with this twisting sensation worsening in your gut.

Getting properly settled in and starting your new job in the nearby town’s clinic took up most of your time. Your energy and thoughts. But at night, when it was just you laying in a too small bed in a too small room, your mind wandered. The moon peering through the small, curtained window into your bedroom bore witness to the way you stared and stared and stared—unblinking at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. Always twisting the gold band that remained on your finger in absentmindedness.

There was a gnawing ache in your chest that waxed and waned, but it never truly disappeared.

You thought about those final days a lot. They didn’t let you see him. All you got was a single phone call, sometime before his scheduled execution. The contents of that call would follow you no matter how far you tried to run from them. How hard you tried to forget.

(The phone felt locked in your grip—your fingers tight and stiff. There was a silence that was broken by your name spoken on the tailend of a choked breath. Your teeth clenched so hard you felt a muscle spasm in your jaw.

“I-I didn’t—” Sebastian’s voice stuttered thickly, hushed into the microphone. Something sank down to the soles of your feet, then continued on in an endless spiral. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t.”

There was something so devastatingly helpless about talking to him like this. Divided across miles and miles, nothing but a thin connection between you and him. Your words his only comfort.

“I know, baby,” you told him miserably, raising a hand to palm at your wet eyes. “I know.”)

You couldn’t even host a proper funeral for him. His body was never released to his family—for what reason, you were unsure. It felt as though you never had any proper closure. You could scream and cry about the injustice of it all, but… no one would listen. It was done. It was over. There was no getting him back. It was a grim thought that you grappled with on the daily, always present at the back of your mind. At the front of your mind. Suffocated you in gallons and gallons of grief. You did your best to work through it all over time, but sometimes it felt like your best just wasn’t enough.

And then… a couple of years after his death… you got a call.

You were lounging around in your little living room after a long shift at work, a book splayed out on your lap as you relaxed. Your phone was sitting right by your legs, just out of sight. So when it buzzed with an incoming call, you did not bother to glance at the screen before you answered it.

It was Maria.

The tremble of her voice made you instantly freeze.

You couldn’t understand what she was saying—so rushed and stifled through choked sobs. You sat up, both your hands gripping at your phone.

“Maria— wh-what—” you stuttered out, a sinking feeling slowly making itself present in your gut. You stood up, barely registering your book falling off your lap and onto the floor. “What’s—”

“They— they were wrong,” she hiccuped out, breathless and hysterical. “We knew they were and they— they—”

“What are you—” You tried to make sense of her words, but she quickly dissolved into more incoherent crying. You swallowed thickly, a cold sweat erupting along your back.

It took you a few minutes to calm her down enough so that she could strangle out a “Check the news.” Your eyes snapped to the darkened television sitting against the wall across from you.

Your throat felt drier than a desert. The remote was wedged between the cushions on your couch, and you fumbled around for it before finally managing to press the power button. Channel twenty-one, the news. You punched it into the remote.

There was a picture of Sebastian on the screen. His mugshot, actually—black hair messily scattered across honeyed skin, dark eyes that glistened in the dim lighting, thin lips downturned into an unsteady frown. A ringing sound erupted deep within your ears, drowning out all else as your gaze narrowed in on the bold headline.

Innocent man wrongfully convicted for murder of nine.

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped from your lips. This was how you found out? They didn’t bother to contact you first? You almost couldn’t believe it. Two years after he’d already been imprisoned. Two years after they’d decided he should die via electric chair. You laughed again, and your phone slipped right from your fingers as you dropped onto your knees. You barely felt the impact—barely heard Maria’s questioning sniffle above the racing of your heart.

You laughed and you laughed and you laughed and you laughed because wasn’t that just the funniest fucking thing? They found out the truth after what had been done to him could never be taken back. After you and his family had fought so desperately to prove his innocence.

Funny! It was funny!

You bit at your bottom lip to suppress the way it violently quivered.

Years passed and you continued to live on without Sebastian.

You thought time would help you heal—would dull the ache you experienced at every waking moment of the day and night. But there were times where you just felt infinitely worse. It was awful. It was so utterly miserable, and you were tired. You were just… tired. You couldn’t think about him for too long before you’d feel that familiar sting to your eyes. So you tried not to think about him at all.

It didn’t work.

You were plagued by him. Awake or asleep—it did not matter.

“You’re still up,” he murmured into your ear at night as you laid curled up on your side. Like this, you could face the window of your room—where the moonlight filtered gently through your thin curtains to brush against the walls like the hand of a ghost.

You hummed in response, face partially buried in your pillow. You tried in vain to ignore the presence you felt at your back. Making the hairs prickle on your nape. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel light breaths against the side of your face.

“You’ve got work in a few hours, you know,” he said, matter-of-fact. His voice lowered, gentle and calm. “What’s bothering you?”

There was a pause. Distantly, you could hear the waves of the ocean as the tide rose and fell along the shore. A constant source of white noise.

“Nothing,” you eventually whispered back, closing your eyes momentarily to breathe in the faint smell of cinnamon. “Nothing at all.”

It wasn’t real, you told yourself. Over and over and over again. He wasn’t real. He wasn’t.

He didn’t stop there.

He sat across from you at your little dining table in the kitchen, grinning at you as you forked spoonfuls of pitiful dinner after dinner into your mouth. He was in the bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet as you showered or brushed your teeth. He was in the living room, sprawled across the floor in front of you as he gazed at you with his face propped atop his palm.

He accompanied you to work, a pair of blue eyes staring at you in the rearview mirror of your car as you drove. He lingered over your shoulder as you pushed paperwork or chatted to other nurses. Close enough to touch, yet never crossing that line. Always present. Sometimes silent, sometimes not. You weren’t sure which was better.

He was haunting you, and you could do nothing about it.

The only place where you seemed to have any kind of reprieve was down by the little cove or the shore. You liked taking walks along it—when the walls of your cottage seemed to loom too close for comfort. It was refreshing, being able to just… breathe in the sea air and take in the rolling waves from the sand. A healing balm for your enervated soul. It became a habit no matter the weather, every evening after work. Soaking in the sun, basking in the mist, watching dark clouds grow closer on the horizon. You were oftentimes alone, but occasionally you’d pass a few people also enjoying the fresh air. They never bothered you, so you never bothered them.

Once you returned home, however, he would be waiting for you at the door—all warm smiles and crinkled eyes that made your insides ache like they never have before.

You contemplated going to grief counseling many times. But something held you back. You just… didn’t have the energy to pick yourself up and go. Didn’t want to come to proper terms with it all, you supposed. Or maybe you were desperately holding on—afraid of letting go completely when you could look in a mirror and see him standing somewhere behind you. It hurt. It soothed. It was a push and pull that you learned to deal with as time went on.

You often caught yourself staring at the tiny closet in your room—where you’d buried that small box of Sebastian’s things so deeply, it would never see the light of day again. Most of the time, you could drag yourself away from it, pushing it to the back of your mind once more. But one night… you couldn’t help yourself. You caved. You just… needed to.

You pulled the box out from the depths of your closet and sat on the floor, eyeing it warily as you clutched a pair of scissors in your hand. It was just as you’d left it—flaps tightly sealed with packing tape. You hadn’t bothered to label it. You knew what was in there and that was enough.

You took in a deep breath and stabbed the point of the scissors into the box’s top to pry it open. Then, you stared down at its insides.

It simultaneously felt like you’d packed his things away in this box just yesterday and a hundred years ago. In any case, the tender ache at seeing it all still persisted.

The panda plushie, which you picked up gingerly and ran your fingers over its short fuzz before setting it off to your side. It used to sit on a shelf, back at your shared apartment, picked up only occasionally when he wanted to throw it at you to bother you.

(“Sebastian!” you shouted, startled out of your focus on your book when that goddamn panda nailed you directly on your face. You glared at him, setting your book to the side to snatch up the plushie when he laughed hard enough that he doubled over.

“Oh my god, your face!” he wheezed, swiping a finger under his eyes to wipe away an imaginary tear. “Come on, you didn’t see that coming? You’re losing your game here, babe.”

“Shut up, you ass! I was reading!” you fumed and stood up to pelt the plushie at him. It smacked him right on the arm, and he only laughed even harder.)

The sketchbook, rarely ever seen by your eyes because he was so protective over it. Abashed, more like, you came to realize a while ago. And for a good reason, you supposed, your lips twitching as you flipped open the thick cover.

There were some landscape drawings at the start—places you recognized at your old university. The café near the library, the statue at the center of the main quad. A few students walking around or sitting outside on benches. Some components from his engineering projects—designs with their associated dimensions, fluid mechanics calculations, free-body diagrams. You saw a handful of drawings of Lucas and Isidora, either fighting or sleeping against each other—gaping mouths and all.

And then… once you hit a certain point in the book, there were drawings of you.

He’d been so embarrassed when you caught him sketching you one day, though he’d tried to play it off. It was before he’d asked you out, you remembered. You’d thought it was flattering—at least what you could glimpse on the open pages. He’d slammed the book shut pretty quickly once he’d realized you were peeking over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until years later that he’d finally let you flip through the sketchbook properly.

Doodles of you sitting around campus, doing homework or looking at your phone. A sketch of you walking down the street or staring out a window. Upper body shots of you smiling, or laughing, or talking to one of your friends. The level of detail always blew you away—he managed to capture details about you that you never quite paid attention to yourself. The crinkle of your eyes or the pull of your lips.

You gently brushed a finger over a rough doodle of you and him—sitting back-to-back as you did your respective work—then closed the sketchbook to set down next to your legs.

Next was the crumpled, smudged paper of his vows—that you lingered over for a moment, reading it briefly with a small smile.

There were the silly ones, where he promised to be the best pain in the ass you could ever ask for. To make fun of you for being shorter than him or annoy you to smithereens everyday because he loved the face you made when you were mad.

Then there were the sincere ones, promising to always love you unconditionally. To take care of you whenever you were sick, or encourage you to be the best version of yourself you could possibly be. To hold your hand whenever you were scared. To always be by your side, no matter what.

You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve, sniffling slightly, and let the piece of paper flutter down to the ground.

And finally… you picked up the flannel.

Even after all this time, the material was still soft in your hold. You squeezed it between your fingers, tracing over the lines where patches of black met patches of red. If you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough, you could almost feel a warmth coming from it—like it had just been shucked off a warm body. Raising it up to your face to take a deep breath, you could faintly smell that familiar cinnamon. A comfort. A heartache.

“You know,” Sebastian started, and you lifted your gaze briefly to glance up at him standing a ways in front of you. “I’ve always liked how you looked in my clothes.” He wore a sharp grin that made his cheek dimple on his right. He winked down at you. “Always liked how you looked outta them too, but that’s neither here nor there. Go on, put it on.”

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself complying anyway. You stood up and slipped the flannel over your arms, fixing it properly over your shirt. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You could almost imagine him embracing you. Something in your stomach twinged.

“There you go,” he whispered, a breath of air just barely out of reach in the fragile twilight of your room. “Just look at you.”

You only smiled sadly at the ground and hugged yourself tighter.

In recent years, the small dock by the shore was stripped down and built anew.

You saw them doing construction from your cottage’s window when the project was first launched and spent many nights fantasizing about dipping your feet into the water from the dock’s edge. And once it was finally complete—after months and months of waiting and watching—you did just that.

Your evenings were kept mostly the same with your walks along the shore or within the cove. But now you could trudge out onto the now sturdy dock and embrace the ocean in its entirety. You could let the tips of your shoes protrude off the far end of the dock as you breathed in and out. Salty air. The hint of rain in the distance. The spray of water against your face as the waves ebbed to and fro. It was refreshing. The perfect way to let the incessant buzz of your mind die down in preparation for a quiet night.

The dock, from what you could see whenever you were at home, was mostly used during the bright hours of day. A couple of fishermen during the afternoon. Teens from the town who wanted to jump off and swim to the shore. Either way, by the time the hush of evening fell as people prepared for bed, the dock was empty and perfect for some alone time.

It was nice, being able to sit down and soak your feet in the cool water when the weather was warmer. You liked watching the sun as it sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky in shades of burnt mandarin and dusty magenta. The last vestiges of gold light would make way for inky darkness that sparkled with hundreds and hundreds of stars. You were never able to appreciate the night sky in the city—so you took every chance you could to sit and stare up at it. Trying your best to identify constellations or just admiring it all until you got too cold to stay out for much longer.

Sometimes you ate your dinner out on the dock while you chatted with Isidora or Maria on the phone. Sometimes you brought along a book or sketchpad. You missed listening to Sebastian strum away at his electric guitar at times—always filling your apartment with music—so you impulse bought a ukulele and sat by the sea plucking awkwardly at its strings. The dock became a place to pass time. It became a habit that you stuck to for many years.

You were familiar with it all after spending evening after evening after evening out on its wooden platform. You could count the number of planks it was made of, the number of nails you could feel under your hands. You learned how to read the sea—when it hinted at an oncoming storm or calm night. In a way, it became a safe space for you, away from the stifling walls of your cottage.

So naturally, when something disrupted it, you noticed almost immediately.

You were sitting on the dock, half a sandwich on your lap that you’d scrounged up for a late dinner. Your feet idly swished through the water, cool against your heated skin. The dock was high enough that it only submerged your feet up to your ankles, but you did not mind.

You took another bite of your sandwich, then felt an odd prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Pausing, you noticed the hairs on your arms were standing straight up. It… felt like you were being watched. You glanced around—at the wide ocean before you, then the sandy shore behind you. There were a few stragglers in the distance, but they were far enough that you were sure they were not the cause for your sudden unease.

You swallowed your bite and decided it was probably nothing.

The following evening, however, it happened again. Then the next evening. And the next.

Like clockwork, almost, every time you sat down on the dock to relax after your shifts at work. It did not matter what you were doing, or how late you were there. Even for how long. You would always feel that prickle along your nape, and it would not leave until you walked back down the dock to make your way home. Sometimes it followed you up until you shut the door to your cottage.

You tried testing to see if you would still feel this way walking along the shore, or lounging on the sand of the cove. But even if you completely avoided the dock, you would still feel that familiar prickle of your hairs standing on end. It was… stupefying. You wondered if you were being paranoid. Or maybe you were losing it, just a little.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sebastian said one night, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you both sat at your tiny kitchen table. “You might have already lost it, sweetheart.” He only grinned at you when you told him to shut up.

After weeks of enduring this strange sensation, you decided it was best to just pretend it wasn’t there. You could ignore a little unease if it meant your routine would remain undisrupted. So you sat at the dock and minded your own business. Stared out at the rolling waves, read a book, laid back to stargaze. You were able to find peace again.

Then, one night, you noticed something.

It was by chance, really. You were staring out at the sea, watching as the waves crashed against an outcropping of rocks in the far distance. It was dark, the only lighting coming from the moon and the stars. It caused the waters to turn black—void-like, almost, if not for the gentle moonlight. Maybe that was what had ultimately allowed you to see it.

There, just behind the rocks jutting up from the sea like a jagged line of teeth, was this teal glow above the water.

It hugged along the wall of rock, barely visible from your vantage point. You paused and found yourself squinting at it, trying to make out what the hell it could possibly be. The moment you stared at it for a second too long, however, it ducked under the water before disappearing out of sight.

You were confused, yes, but you brushed it off as some sort of reflection. Maybe even a marine animal or bioluminescent plant of sorts, though you weren’t sure what.

You saw it again some nights later, this time just under the surface of the calm waters by the outcropping. It was oddly hypnotizing, in a way, even muted under the deep, navy waves. A constant presence, throughout the entirety of your time on the dock. You could even see it from your cottage window if you squinted.

The underwater glow became another upset in your routine that puzzled you to no end. You tried to ignore it like you ignored the prickle along your nape, but it was almost impossible to do so when it was so blatantly present in the water. No matter where you looked, the glow always lingered in your periphery. And it wasn’t like it stayed in the same place either. Some nights, it stayed near the rocks. During others, it seemed to draw closer. Farther. Closer. Closer. Farther.

Definitely not a plant, you concluded one night as you warily eyed the teal glow as it lingered several meters away. A trick of light? You cast a glance up at the vantablack sky dusted with twinkling white. But no, that would be impossible. It showed up no matter if the night sky was clear or cloudy.

Maybe you were imagining it after being on your own for so long. You grimaced as you thought about your cottage and the inhabitant waiting for you to return to it. Him. As real as your mind could make him.

In any case, the glow was not a priority. Not with the way the days cycled on—a twisting, gnawing feeling soon growing in your chest that you were well acquainted with by now. Though you wished desperately that you weren’t.

You woke up tired.

Not atypical for you, by any means. But this was a different kind of tired—that lingered deep within your muscles and tissue, even your very soul. It made every single motion feel as though you were lugging along hundred pound weights. You were slow in getting out of bed for this reason, taking a few moments to blink wearily up at your ceiling and rub at your temples in a vain attempt to ease the headache you could feel trying to manifest. Already you were not off to a good start.

Steadily, you sat up and immediately spotted Sebastian looming in the far corner of your room. Smiling at you with his hands shoved into his pockets. He opened his mouth to say something, but you lifted up a hand to stop him. Your throat felt like it was lined with cotton.

“Not today,” you told him, voice barely over a whisper. You closed your eyes, then reopened them to give him a weary look. “Just… Not today.”

He only closed his mouth and continued to smile at you.

Once you picked yourself up and trudged over to your bathroom, you took a second to regard your reflection in the small mirror. Dark circles that lined the area under your eyes. A small wrinkle between your creased eyebrows. A dullness to your complexion and a hollowness to your cheeks. You rubbed an eye and sighed, a deep thing that didn’t make you feel any better. The day must go on, as much as you didn’t want it to.

Your coworkers knew not to pester you too much once they saw you arrive at the clinic, so you were granted the relief of a somewhat quiet day. But that did not make things any easier for you—forcing you to be with the overwhelming spiral of your thoughts. You kept yourself busy with work around the clinic, but by the end of your shift, you somehow felt even worse than you had before.

On the drive home, you stopped by a store to pick up a couple of groceries you needed. And once you returned home and unpacked everything into their proper places, you whipped up a quick dinner and spent some time sitting at your little table poking at it sluggishly. You weren’t all that hungry, despite only having some crackers and water earlier. Your stomach churned, your chest ached. You feared if you ate too much, you would just end up throwing it all up.

It was quiet. You took your time to clean up and shower. Procrastinating, you registered faintly at the back of your mind. You slipped on some comfy clothes, then snagged Sebastian’s flannel that you’d never had the heart to pack away back into the box with the rest of his things. It hung on a hook on the back of your bedroom door, next to your towel. Forever a haunting presence in the corner of your world that you grew accustomed to with time. You slipped it on, the sleeves lolling past your hands.

Making your way back to the kitchen, you glanced out the window over your sink at the steadily approaching sunset. You’d gotten home slightly later than usual, but it was fine. You shuffled over to your fridge to grab a small, two-pack container of cupcakes and pried it open to take one out. You rummaged around in a nearby drawer for a few things, then slipped out your front door to make your way down to the dock.

It was a bit colder today, especially with the sun dipping closer down to the horizon to make way for night. You took a moment to stand at the edge of the dock and breathe. The fresh air helped, if only a little. The swell of the waves eased some of the tension lining your shoulders. You sat down, crossing your legs, and set the cupcake atop the small space in front of you.

Leaning back onto your palms, you watched as dusk bled across the sky until it was overtaken completely by night. The moon painted the waves in a milky glow that highlighted their crests and shadowed their troughs. You could faintly register an ache behind your eyes that worsened bit by bit every time you blinked. You leaned forward and rubbed your cold hands along your upper arms before deciding it was time.

From your pockets, you pulled out a single candle and a lighter. You stuck the candle into the top of the cupcake, then—with a flick of your finger—used the lighter to set it aflame. The tiny, orange bud of fire flickered in the gentle wind and washed its soft glow along your hands and legs. Your wedding ring glinted in its light. You stuffed the lighter back into your pocket and sank into a slouch as you stared at the cupcake.

Faintly, you could smell cinnamon.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your eyes stung, unblinking as they were. You swallowed and it was like choking down a bucket full of thorns.

He would have been thirty-three today, you thought miserably to yourself as you stared and stared and stared. The fact settled over you like a particularly suffocating blanket. That fatigue you'd felt earlier came back full force, accompanied by a wrenching feeling in the pit of your gut.

Thirty-three. Your face felt hot and cold all at once. You rubbed at your cheek and your fingers came away wet. You exhaled a shuddering breath.

All those years of missed opportunities and moments. No waking up to his slumbering face or to his gentle kisses on your eyelids. No playful teasing or hugs that stole the breath right out of your lungs with how tightly he squeezed. No midnight dances in your little kitchen, swaying back and forth to an imaginary tune. No being loved by him.

Your heart ached.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you whispered out into the still air, closing your eyes momentarily as your jaw trembled. “I miss you. So, so much.”

You leaned forward and blew out the candle.

Then, you buried your face in your palms. And you cried.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, hiccuping into your hands. It hurt, god, it hurt so much. It always did. You were sure even years down the line, you’d find yourself trapped in the same wallowing pit of despair. The pain dulled, yes, but ever so sharp and present when the time lined up perfectly—as much as you dreaded it. Your chest hurt with the way you suppressed your pain.

When you finally managed to pull the shaking pieces of yourself together, everything felt numb with cold. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were bleary. You sniffed and had to choke back another sob. It truly never got easier, even after all this time. You needed some painkillers and a long, long rest.

Sighing, you plucked the cold candle from the cupcake along with its paper wrapping to toss into your trash later. You stood up and hugged yourself, giving the lone dessert another long glance before turning on your heel to head back into the warmth of your cottage. Come morning, the birds will have eradicated all traces of the cupcake from the dock, as they tended to do.

As you walked, the back of your neck prickled all the way up to your door.

In the following days, you noticed the teal glow you’d been seeing underwater was growing closer and closer—even moreso than it had been before.

This would not have alarmed you too heavily—after all, it wasn’t like it hadn’t been going back and forth in terms of distance for a while—but it was getting to the point where it was only a few meters away. You could slip into the water and swim over easily, you mused, as you warily eyed the glow. Just in case, you decided to avoid sticking your feet into the water for now.

You couldn’t kid yourself anymore. It was weird—really weird. Pair up the glow with the ever present prickle along your nape and Sebastian’s haunting presence at home, and you had a recipe spelling out… well… mental disaster. It was all you could do to hang on. There really wasn’t much you could do about it anyways, you figured. These days you were just too tired to care.

Currently, you were sitting cross-legged in your usual spot on the dock, aimlessly scrolling through your phone’s notifications as you enjoyed the night air. You had a couple of messages from Maria to respond to—you’d been trying to get better at maintaining contact with her every so often. It was a work in progress, but at least texts were easier for you to deal with than phone calls.

You thumbed through the rest of your notifications. Lucas had sent you a meme around one in the morning last night that you’d missed. He was in his last year in university, you mulled. How time has flown. You remembered when he was still an annoying preteen, bugging Sebastian to use his no doubtfully expensive guitar. It was difficult to get Sebastian to ever part with it. The thought made you smile slightly to yourself, then you sobered upon remembering you’d had to sell it. In hindsight, Lucas’ guitar phase hadn’t lasted all too long—or maybe he hadn’t wanted something that reminded him of his older brother so much. Sweet memories turned sour after the execution. You sighed and sent him a meme back after liking the one he’d sent. Something about weird-looking cats.

Oh, one of your coworkers wanted to grab dinner in a couple of days. Hmm. You checked your calendar, then sent off a response text in agreement. The distance you were from the nearby town was not large by any means, but it was enough that you rarely sought exchanges outside of work. You really needed to get out more. Most of your other interactions were online, especially after moving from the city and away from everyone and everything. It certainly was not doing you any favors.

As you typed up a comment on one of your older friend’s social media posts, you noticed something.

Just over the top of your phone screen—reflected in the dark water of the ocean. You paused and lowered your phone to stare at it.

It was the teal glow, brighter and closer than it had ever been before. You eyed it for a moment, apprehension taking root in the pit of your stomach. But there was also this sense of tentative curiosity. You leaned forward just enough to peer down at it beyond the dock’s edge, submerged as it was beneath the gentle waves. It was almost underneath you, oddly hypnotizing as you tilted your head at it. You felt as though you could be sucked right into it, lulled into a trance as the glow encompassed all that you were.

Brighter and brighter the glow grew. There was the distant thought in the back of your mind that maybe you should be more wary—maybe you should lean back or stand up to gain some distance. But all you could hear were your steady breaths, feel the way your grip tightened on your phone. Maybe you could see if what you were seeing was really an animal of sorts or just some figment of—

There was a head. Sticking out of the water.

You froze immediately, breath caught in your lungs.

For a moment, you couldn’t process what exactly you were looking at. But then you realized you were staring at a gray-blue face framed by raven hair stuck to its sides. A rather large face, in fact, nowhere near the size of a regular human’s. A… mermaid? You weren’t entirely certain, and even then, there was a lot to unpack with this realization that you were in no way prepared to do.

There was some sort of lure attached to the top of the creature’s head that drooped down into the water in front of it. Two—no, three, you noticed—eyes were trained intently in your direction, pupils indiscernible in a way that made it difficult to tell where precisely it was looking at. The back of your neck prickled.

Ah, you thought faintly as teal light gently washed across the nearly black surface of the water from the creature’s eyes. That’s what that was.

You weren’t sure how long you and the… mermaid… stayed there, staring at each other, but eventually something had to give. You were just surprised it wasn’t you first.

The mermaid’s jaw seemed to tense. It regarded you with an unreadable gaze that you could feel flicking over your face. Then, it parted thin lips to say a quiet “Hey.”

It was like getting punched in the gut—harsh and utterly unforgiving.

It sounded— It sounded just like Sebastian. Raspier, maybe. A little lower in timbre. But unequivocally him. It was unmistakable—his voice so deeply cemented into your mind when you lived day by day listening to him speak over your shoulder. You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t force the air you so desperately needed into your lungs.

He seemed to take in your silence, appraising you for a moment before speaking again.

“I know this has gotta be… weird as shit…” he said slowly, voice stiff and slightly stilted. “But I”—he swallowed thickly—“I can explain.”

You weren’t sure what expression you were making, but you saw the way the skin above his eyes seemed to crease together. You wanted to force yourself to spit out something, anything, but you could not hear yourself think over the rapid ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump of your heart in your ears. The vice-like grip on your insides with how much this mermaid sounded like Sebastian. How it made you hurt. How it made you ache.

What the hell was going on right now?

“You—” you eventually choked out, your eyes taking in what was before you. A membranous fin at the side of his head flicked slightly at the sound of your voice. “You— I—”

He said your name quietly, and it was like another vicious twist of your gut. The sounds of the sea became white noise, distant and weak. “It’s me. Sebastian. You know? Love of your life?” His face scrunched up, sharp mouth turning into a strained grin as he stared at you with wide, imploring eyes. “Come on babe, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”

Just like him. He talked just like him.

But that couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be right. He was dead. He was—

Something suddenly clicked in the far recesses of your mind.

“Ah.” The syllable dropped from your lips like a rock from a high place. You slumped like you’d been cut from a few taut strings struggling to hold you up. “I get it now.” You exhaled deeply, willing yourself to gain control of your mind and your heart. You knew exactly what was going on here.

No need to panic. You were in control.

“...Do you really?” he asked warily after a minute or two. You ignored him to focus on yourself.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You released the tight hold you had on your phone—line etched into your palm from the pressure—and shoved it into your pocket so you could lift your hands up to rub at your temples.

You were tired. Of this, of everything.

“I thought this was supposed to be a safe space,” you grumbled under your breath, your eyes closing in a vain attempt to stave off the building headache you were experiencing. “You had to follow me out here too?”

Sebastian made a sound—a questioning, confused little thing that made you open your eyes to gaze down at him. He looked hurt, almost. “I— What?”

Your hands dropped from your temples, and you leaned back onto your palms so you could look out at the calm sea. A few clouds passed over the moon from above, temporarily casting a shadow over you and him. You eyed him after a moment of letting yourself relax from the previous adrenaline spike.

“You’ve never looked like this before,” you eventually mused as your eyes traced over the shadowed line of his nonexistent nose. The way his skin glistened in the dim lighting. “Did something change from yesterday?” You didn’t think you were capable of imagining him like this. Inhuman. No honeyed skin or rough scar bridging his nose. You wondered why it was happening now, of all times. If maybe it was the result of staying by the sea for so long, alone to deal with everything that had happened.

He opened his mouth as though to respond. But then he closed it and just… stared at you. Observing you. Analyzing you for something you were not privy to. A probing gaze that made something under your skin itch. You watched him back, then found you could not hold his gaze for much longer. You looked away and cleared your throat.

“I’m thinking pasta for dinner,” you remarked casually to fill the silence, eyes shifting skywards in thought. “The alfredo we made last week was pretty good. I got the sauce on sale at the grocery store.”

Another pause. Another moment where your skin prickled with the sensation of being picked apart, piece by piece.

And when he spoke, his voice was barely over a murmur—a grim realization to his tone. “You… You’ve really lost it after all this time, huh?”

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Don’t be mean. I’m— well…” You gave him a smile, something melancholy lining your lips. “Doing just fine.” The words were bitter across your tongue. He only gave you a look like he didn’t quite believe you, something indecipherable in his gaze.

“Right,” he snorted. “Like I’m gonna believe that after whatever the hell you just said.” A hand lifted from the water to gesture at you, gray-blue just like his face.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted on your feet and stood up, brushing off your pants as you shoved your hands into your pockets. You hadn’t realized, but there was this twinge building in your stomach with every minute that ticked by. You needed to sleep this off… whatever this was. You sighed, long and weary. “I should not be entertaining you.” But it was so hard to resist—has been, for years now.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sebastian muttered to himself, pinching at the bridge of his nonexistent nose with two large fingers. When you only raised an eyebrow at him and took a step in the direction of your cottage, intending to head back to get started on dinner, he lurched forwards in the water. “Wait. Where are you going? Y-You’re leaving?”

You didn’t intend on answering him, so accustomed to ignoring him in your cottage whenever he spoke into the air. But when this Sebastian snapped out your name in a warning tone, you gave him a look. “I’m not leaving, silly. I’ll see you inside, won’t I?”

“God, do you even hear yourself right now?” he rasped out, voice betraying a certain incredulity as he lifted himself up in the water just enough that you could see what looked like a waterlogged scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. “Listen to me. I’m here. I’m real.”

Real, huh?

You closed your eyes and thought about a figure standing in the corner of your living room, watching you with a small grin. You thought about the endless nights of him standing near your bed or hovering just beyond your shoulder, whispering at you to close your eyes and sleep. You thought about a lot. You thought about nothing.

And so you hummed, a distant thing that you did not quite register as you started to turn away, unwilling as you were to continue this. But before you could make it even a couple of steps back down the dock, Sebastian made a noise—ragged and disbelieving. There was the sound of rushing water directly behind you. The roar of a small waterfall, almost. It made you turn back and blink in surprise as your head craned back.

The wood beneath you creaked and groaned in an ominous manner.

“We are not done talking,” Sebastian growled as he loomed over you. Like this, you could take him in his entirety—from the brown jacket covering his torso that was dark with seawater, to the three arms he had that held himself up atop the dock’s surface. The shirt he had on was translucent enough to appear gray in color. If you looked close enough at the sliver of his unclothed body before it disappeared beneath the dock’s edge, you could just barely make out the shine of scales.

This was—like nothing you have ever seen before.

Your lips parted when a drop of water landed on your cheek, startling you for a moment. A glance up at the sky showed clear skies above you. Maybe you’d imagined it. You shook your head slightly and focused back on Sebastian.

Water continued to run down his body, each drop soaking into the wooden planks of the dock, before it eventually eased into a trickle.

“What is there to talk about?” you asked lightly after contemplating his words.

His grip tightened on the dock, enough that you could almost hear something splinter. “Much, in case you were not aware.” He surveyed your open face with narrowed eyes, a soft teal glow dusting across your features. It was like you were being held open like a book, all of your innards exposed for him to analyze. You weren’t sure what he found there, but it made him suddenly soften like butter atop a warm stove.

“I just…” He sighed, something long-suffering that came from deep within his chest. “This wasn’t how I’d imagined things would go, believe it or not.”

You cocked your head at him and watched him slouch from his rigid position. Still dripping water. Still with that raven hair plastered to his face. There was a sort of exhaustion to him that you’d never noticed before. It made something pang in your chest—caused you to clench your hands into fists in a vain attempt to focus on anything else.

There was the pungent smell of fish, raw and metallic.

Not real. This was not real.

Sebastian shifted, and the hand attached to his torso—smaller in size and covered sloppily in stained bandages—raised as though it was going to reach towards you. Your heart nearly skipped a beat at the motion. But then he stopped, staring down at his palm. Big and gray and consisting of four thick fingers with sharp ends. There was the glint of something gold around his fourth finger. Your own hand twitched inside your pocket.

Always just out of reach. Never crossing a line.

His hand clenched into a fist, and he lowered it back to the dock with a quiet thud.

He said your name. “I know this is difficult to hear, but… It’s me,” he whispered, voice strained like it was on the precipice of breaking. “It’s really, really me.”

You swallowed heavily, feeling as though the world was unraveling by the seams beneath your feet.

This was not him. It couldn’t be.

Why would you ever imagine him like this?

“No, it’s not,” you eventually said bitterly, breaking eye contact so you could glance back at your cottage. You closed your eyes, then reopened them as you turned your back to him. And when you spoke again, your voice teetered like you were one step away from falling into a never ending pit. “You’re dead.”

And then you walked away.

Each step you took felt like eternity, something heavy weighing you down. He called out your name. First so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, a tinge of something fragile to it. Then again with frustration lining his voice—louder and aggrieved. There was a sharp crack of something behind you, but you were determined in your march back home.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your jaw clenched to suppress the tremble you could feel working its way throughout your body. You refused to look behind you, and you succeeded right up until you stood before the door to your cottage. With one hand on the metal knob, you twisted around to look back at the shore—the dock you could see a ways behind you.

It was vacant, not a soul in sight.

Your lips pursed together, and you opened the door to slip inside with a heavy, grim feeling taking root in your stomach.

Sebastian was waiting for you already, sprawled atop your couch as he grinned at you wide enough that you saw each and every one of his white teeth.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said amusedly, one of his hands raking through the wavy mess of hair on his head. His voice lowered, gentle and sincere. “Maybe take a break from the dock, yeah?”

You only slowly shook your head and moved past him, suddenly feeling queasy and lightheaded and so frazzled that you couldn’t bear being awake for much longer.

Your thoughts lingered on the shore. Teal eyes and the sound of breaking wood that felt so real in that instance. You forced yourself to breathe.

It was fine. It was fine.

You would deal with it as you always have.

part two

#i didnt take spanish since middle school so i had to use google translate for it LOL sorry for any inaccuracies !#shay scribbles daydreams #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #who i see au #edit: fixed the spanish ty to ataga on ao3 for helping me with it LOL

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jaal-ama-daravv · 12 days ago

Text

dissecting the mortal emmrich romance path scene

dissecting the graveyard scene

mortal vs lich romance path

emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the romance scene (lich path) emmrich x rook cinematic

welcome back my dears

Emmrich Volkarin - Choosing Mortality/Resurrecting Manfred

gonna start with how MUCH I love rook defending emmrich and therefore instilling confidence in him throughout the game, however it is particualry noticeable in this segment.

oh yes

after being knocked on his ass from johanna skeleton construct he is visibly hurt, but this is both physical and emotional pain. I implore you once again to read The Flame Eternal for context behind Emmrich and Johanna.

emmrich's fear of death and cowardice rearing its head in the face of untold danger, until our beloved manfred makes the ultimate sacrifice, and demonstrates great courage.

oh baby, thats the stuff. Rook instilling confidence in her necromancer.

god is real and he is a hot necromancer. look at the confidence surge through him.

moving on

The scene cuts to Emmrich and Rook at the Necropolis asking to revive Manfred. Emmrich seeks out the advice from the Lich Lords of the Necropolis who inform that there are ways to return his spirit, at a cost -

alright here we go. If emmrich chooses manfreds life over accepting his death, he will no longer be able to achieve lichdom as emmrich wouldve have failed to accept death as a natural part of life. in emmrich relinquishing lichdom and choosing to revive manfred instead it delves deep into his character. for emmrich to give up lichdom would mean admitting that some things mean more to him than his fear of death - that choosing to live, that he could choose to be couragous, and face life head on, in spite of inevitable death. emmrich is a known coward, but this - choosing this path, means being resilent, being courageous, overcoming cowardice in the name of love.

it should also be noted that in the lich romance path, during the arguemnt scene, emmrich is not able to accept the inevitable death of rook. THEREFORE -

im telling you. man goes rogue, full blown, scarlet WITCH, rogue.

back to the mortal side -

this is actually tragic. if you know both romance paths for emmrich, you know that regardless of which path emmrich follows, he does not accept death when it comes to himself, his love, or manfred. he just cant. this game portrays regret wonderfully, so wonderfully i cry.

Rook's right, emmrich is much braver than he thinks. he rushes off to help rook FIGHT GODS, facing death every day considering we all know a romanced rook takes him on every mission. emmrich has also mentioned TWICE that rook inspires him, with how they have travelled so much, and how they are indomitable.

dont get me started on how confident he is in act 3. it makes me giggle.

this next line has confused a number of people so let me put my spin on it and break it down -

Death's abyss - referring to the act of dying, and emmrichs fear of death always recedes - the fear of death dissapears with someone to brave it for - inferring to rook, facing death and being brave is easier with rook in his life

these two are made for eachother. mourn watch rook in particular, the love, desire, and connection OOZES that destiny. and my heart, explodes.

This could also be interpreted as wanting to brave death's abyss for manfred, but from a romanced rook perspective, it makes more sense for it be considered as rook. and im unsure what unromanced looks like yet - so im going with that.

this line reiterates my point that the above line is referring to rook. facing alot of things would be easier if manfred was back... like idk, rooks death, maybe.

I cant tell you how much love shoots through my body knowing emmrich wants to face death and brave it for rook. which also makes the argment scene more tragic in a way, but we'll get there dear friends.

In choosing this path, Emmrich demonstrates resilence. and whilst he regrets the lose of lichdom, he knows that he has chosen the life he has always dreamed of. a life of love. a life with his eternal flame, rook. a life with their magic flinging skeleton son, manfred. an undying love that transcends. emmrich has yearned for the love he has in his life now, for a very, very long time. talking 45 odd years here. the man is terrfied, and lichdom was a way to avert his fears, but this, he is truly happy, despite his fears.

@askfordoodles reminded me of a banter dialogue that is available between Emmrich and Davrin. They discuss their sons, Assan and Manfred, and Davrin states, "What have we signed up for?", where Emmrich responds, "Love, I think." and yes, that most defintiely includes rook. emmrich, chose love. whilst it is stated that lichdom is his lifes work and dream. coming from someone who also overworks and grinds out work to get through the weight of the day without a thought of vulnerability. I understand him. When a chance of love opens its doors, its scary, a chance to be hurt. this man took that chance, to have the family he never had growing up. and never believed he would achieve. rook gave him back his heart and made him stronger for it. emmrich chose to pursue the life that his parents would've wanted for him. the thought...the dream.. that confirms his romance.

im not crying, you are. holy shit.

keep in mind this is man who grew up poor and alone. he has low self-esteem and never believed he was worthy, let alone would find the type of soul devouring love he craved. that love that you would go to the end of the earth for.

my heart is full.

He calls himself a coward on a frequent basis. but here? what growth. whilst his fear of death may never leave him, it is significantly easier with rook that loves him as deeply as he does. and manfred, a son to pass his knowledge onto.

it then ends with Emmrich stating that in regards to him giving up lichdom for manfred, he would not exchange the life he has now for anything. his now family -

"The Volkarins"

short-ish post, but the next one will be very long where I'll touch more on Emmrichs personality traits more in the argument scene as this is where his traits really shine through, see you soon ♥

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americanwh0rerstory · 3 months ago

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Jack off [tate langdon] P.2

Summery: whilst trying to get off for the umpteenth time that day, Y/N walks in and catches him

A/N: thanks for all the support on part 1, somebody suggested a part two but i cant remember who it is. but whoever it was, here you go :)

content warnings: use of panties to get off, repeated use of Y/N, m!masturbation, guilt tripping, Dub-con, unprotected p in v, choking, cumming over tits, gentle aftercare

MDNI. SMUT BELOW THE CUT. CONSUMPTION IS YOUR CHOICE

“shit” tate groans as he rubs your panties against his cock, the lacy material sliding up and down his shaft at lightning speed. he bucked into his hand as he sped up, his eyes fluttering shut when that familiar feeling of euphoria began to course through his veins. he was close.

“Y/N… oh fuck Y/N” he whimpered, speeding up his pace yet again. his breathing was laboured, coming out in shaky and ragged breaths in between the whines of pleasure that escaped from between his parted lips. he was so close, fucking your panties like there was no tomorrow, when he was interrupted.

“tate?” you say with confusion, seeing your ghostly companion sprawled onto your bed and fucking your panties like a god damn perv. your eyebrows knitted in confusion as you look over at him from the doorway,

he stayed silent when he saw you, the panties still wrapped around his cock but now not moving at all. he was just caught like a deer in headlights, staring at you with wide eyes as if he expected you to reprimand him.

“i-i’m sorry” he stammered hurriedly whilst trying to control his breathing. he quickly tucked himself away back into his jeans out of embarrassment, the last thing he wanted was for you to hate him. “do you hate me? are you mad? i’ll go if you want me too, i’ll never bother you again if that’s what you want”

you stare back at him, not knowing what to say. there was billions of words you could say yet none of them would come to mind. you felt guilty for walking in on him and making him feel like you hated him, you didn’t want him to think that you hated him because it was far from it. the guilt was sickening and only one thing came to mind. so with a gentle tone you uttered only 2 words that seemed right: “don’t go”

he looked up at you from the bed when he heard that, the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes. it was the hope that you didn’t hate him, the hope that maybe he gets to fuck you, the tiniest slither of hope for anything out of you.

“do you… wanna help me out?” he asked with hesitance, trying to mask his happiness over the fact that you was in no position to refuse. surely the guilt would make you accept, right?

“you won’t need to do much, im close already. just this quick one, please?” he begs, looking up at you through his lashes with a look of desperation written over his face. “it doesn’t matter that i’m a ghost, we can still fuck” he adds on the end

with a gentle nod of your head you gave him the sign he was looking for, and he wasted no time whatsoever. within seconds he was sliding his pants and boxers down to his ankles and standing at the foot of the bed. you took that as your cue to lay back so once you had stripped down to absolutely nothing, you lay down and looked up at tate for what he’s planning on doing next

he pumped into his hand a few times, working a bead of precum over his shaft as a small bit of lubricant. he did that before dragging his tip along your already soaked slit, teasing you a little before he did anything. it didn’t take long for him to push into your waiting hole, slowly sliding his length into you

“so much better than i thought” he murmurs with a satisfied groan, already getting pussy drunk before he had even began. he gave you few moments to adjust before he pushed you into a mating press and began to thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your own skin with every deep thrust tate made.

he used one hand to choke you whilst he thrusted, the lack of oxygen made you feel dizzy but also made it pleasurable, your head spinning whilst the only noises you could make were whines and moans of sheer pleasure. each thrust hit your g-spot, causing you to choke a little on the loud moan that attempted to escape your throat. his thrusts were lazy but deep and rough at the same time, each thrust bringing you more pleasure than you had ever felt.

the repeated hits of your g-spot made you begin to feel that knot in your stomach, that familiar feeling akin to a volcanic eruption in the sense that you too was going to burst at any given second. through the garbled moans, you managed to stammer out that you was close to cumming, looking up at tate with pleading doe eyes.

“cum f’ me” he moans out as he pumped faster into you, bringing himself closer and closer as he pounded into you. the entire bed was rocking and shaking but it didn’t deter him from the act, not in the slightest. when on the brink of orgasm, he pulled out and sprayed his load all over your perky breasts and hardened nipples. the sight of you covered in his seed caused him to smirk in between groans of pleasure. after so long yearning for you, he finally got you.

you too also came. your cunt clenched around nothing whilst your back arched and you saw stars. the knot in your stomach coming undone in one big messy orgasm. it left you shaking, breathless, and coated in tate’s cum.

Once the pair of you came down from your joint orgasms, he grabbed a warm towel and wiped you clean, an almost caring look in his eyes. when he finished that, he lay beside you and cuddled into your warm body; a stark contrast to his ghostly cold one.

“you was great, you did great. maybe later we can go do something else? once we’ve had time to relax of course” he mumbled against your neck, a gentle reassurance that he didn’t want you just for sex, he genuinely likes you.

#american horror story #evan peters #tate langdon #ahs murder house #ahs tate #tate langdon ahs #ahs #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #ahs smut

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serejae · 3 months ago

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I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY. | C.SC

pairing : seungcheol x reader

WHAT !! : in which youre unsatisfied with the way you treated seungcheol throughout your relationship, but destiny will always bring you back….right? (or in which you messed up your relationship with him and the 4 times you tried to fix it and the 1 time it worked out)

warnings: so self indulgent, if ur my ex bby i know we’re still contacted but come back 💔💔💔💔 readers a ass in the beginning, open ending

w.c : 2872

a/n : i never really see angst where the reader messes up and i decided to display it with my experience el oh el . hope you all enjoy

you laid in bed beating yourself up for the nth time. youve been in a rotation of screaming into your pillow, walking around the house, and journaling (or at least attempting to) but you still cant get the guilt and regret off your shoulders

its been almost 2 years since, since the argument, since the day you ended things, since the day you ran away afraid of hurting yourself and let alone him even more than you already did.

everyone you know has told you to move on because theyre sure he already has too but its harder said than done, how could you go on with life knowing you hurt someone who was so willing to give you everything you wanted because of your own selfishness

and as bad as it sounded, you hoped he’d reach out first as desperate as you wanting to catch up so you can show him the new version of you. the version who was ready to commit, a better person, willing to love him correctly. not crazy or stupid like the one before, the one he had the unfortunate case of dating

so now youre stuck in this 3 activity cycle because no one wants to hear you mope about your asshole tendencies to seungcheol, youve sent him a couple messages apologizing and hoping to be civil to which he replied accepting every single one a couple hours later

why wasnt it enough though?

its because you wanted more, and you knew it. you wanted him to reply immediately and accept your apology as well as begging you to come back because you knew not even deep

down, straight foward youd accept it

you longed for his ‘good mornings’, ‘i miss you’, ‘i love you’’s that you took for granted

all because of that one day (s)

you decided that this cycle of wanting ends now, all these cowardly attempts will stop. so you grabbed your coat and put on your shoes and drove to his place

to make up for that night and those days

“i just dont understand why you wont talk to me whenever you feel a certain way instead of running away” seungcheol sighed as he ran his hands through his hair as he sat on the couch watching you pace around the living room

“what part of ‘i dont want to’ do you not get” you raised your voice slightly as you paused to stand infront of seungcheol

“i dont get it because i love you.” he replied calmly as he reached to grab your hand and caressing it. and as he looked up at you you saw it in his eyes, the longing for those 3 words you never said back to him. he was always patient with you, the first time he said ‘i love you’ to you he saw the hesitation and understood, he allowed you go at your own pace until you felt ready. but it got to a point, a point where he started to doubt himself and to a point where you could read it.

“i…i cant.”

its not like you didnt love him, you loved him more than anything, more than yourself

and thats what scared you

you know the saying “you cant love someone until you love yourself”?

bullshit.

he was the reason you forgot you hated yourself because you were so inlove with him

and your pride was the one thing holding you back from facing the fear

“what?” seungcheol said pulling you out of your thoughts

you looked back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed

“you cant say you love me or you cant love me?” his tone became a bit more furrious

you didnt say anything, just stood there which was the first mistake you realized you made throughout this relationship out of the many

“im willing to wait for you yn, because i love you. i love you so much, i never want to rush you to tell me you love me back but its been almost months now. im starting to doubt myself”

you didnt know how to process his words, not knowing how to comfort him you did what you did best

leave.

“this is too much for me” thats all you managed to get out before you left the house without looking back

you heard his protest as you left but they went ignored, like how seungcheol felt in your relationship

seungcheol stood there watching the door close. he never understood how people could be so shocked they freeze but now that he was experiencing it first hand he didnt know what to do

should he run after you?

leave you alone?

was this the end between you two?

this couldnt be, you wouldnt let a small argument get between you two

right?

the first time reaching out.

seungcheol had reached out to you, it was about a week since you left the house without deciding if you two were actually over

he spent each day opening the message app and clicking on your contact name hoping he’ll see the 3 bubbles letting him know you were still thinking of him

so when he was finally fed up with it he sent you a message hoping itll give you a change of heart, he wanted you to know he didnt mean any of the bad things he said and that he still cares for you

“hi, i hope this finds you well but uhm i just wanted to know where we stand. im sorry if i overwhelmed you the last time we saw each other but i really want us to work out, you mean a lot to me and i love you, so much. but i cant keep hanging onto this silence from you. text me back when you can? i love you, and im sorry”

read

you had woken up from your pity nap to his message and spent the entire following week fighting the thoughts in your head

if you replied and told him you wanted to come back, youd still be in doubt about yourself and cause more trouble for the both lf you guys, but if you replied and told him you didnt want to get back together, itll cause a very strange and awkward tension between you two so just ignored the message and left him wondering

now that you think about it, it was a horrible idea but you didn’t know how to solve this. you didnt want to bring more pain to him but you couldnt bring pain to yourself either

so you stared at the message he sent a month later

“i waited for a month and im assuming we’re over? it sucks but i respect your decision. i hope you find someone for you, thank you for the memories we’ve had you’ve been good to me. i love you and im sorry for not being enough”

read

laying on your bed wrapped in a blanket resting on your side the tears fell on your phone. you didnt want him to think he wasnt enough when it was the opposite way around, but its too late now. all you could do was hope he found peace

seungcheol sat on the couch and sighed resting against it as he opened up the message only to see read for the nth time. was it really over between you two? is he never gonna be able to wake up to your face again?

maybe thats the way life goes

he just pushed his luck a little too much

the second time reaching out

its been a couple months, you kept his last messages in your ‘recent messages’ on your texting app. so each time you opened to text someone you still saw his contacy name with the words “i waited over a month….” underneath. youd be lying if you said it didnt hurt but it did, it stung that you let go of one of the best people in your life

so out of impulse, instead of texting your bestfriend a reply to her latest message you clicked on his name

“cheol 🩶”

“this is really sudden but i cant help but still feel guilty. i shouldve been better and replied to you but i was really scared. i was scared of hurting you and myself but im sorry, im sorry for not reaching out sooner, im

sorry for being a dick, im sorry for not being a good partner. i hope youre doing good and i wish you the best”

you held your breath as you sent it. it took you about a hour constantly rephrasing the words. you didnt want it to sound too lengthy or too short. you wanted to sound sincere but not that you longed for him even though you did.

took him exactly 3 hours and 19 minutes from when you sent the message to reply. you waited 22 minutes to open it, you kept refreshing the screen because his reply only had 12 words.

words

“no problem, i wish you the best, you were a good partner :)”

the smiley face really topped it off you could see how he was trying to downplay the situation to have you feel not as guilty , but you were ready for anything

to be blocked, to get yelled at over text, for him to be disappointed but this really twisted the knife

he was so civil about it, he wasnt angry, he wasnt stressed about it

so why were you?

maybe it was the fact you were the asshole while he was the victim. the victim who stood by you and tried to understand you only to be hurt. deciding not to push it you left his message on read and turned off your phone and sighed

when seungcheol got home from hanging out with jeonghan, he turned on his phone after not checking it to see your contact name as one of the first notifications. he said rubbed his eyes frantically and turned off and on his phone again to make sure he wasnt seeing things

clicking on the notification his heart clenched

he hoped you meant everything you said, but its kinda hard to believe when all he could see were words. he’d much rather hear it from you but he doubted his luck at this point.

sending a small reply of what hes able to get out now he hoped youll rack up the courage for you to see him, or maybe he will

the third time reaching out

the third time you reached out wasnt your proudest moment. your friend convinced you to finally go out after mopping about seungcheol for the last months. the main point she gave was

“you already apologized, he forgave, what are you waiting for now?”

she was right, he clearly showed no sign of wanting to get back together so you have to live your life without him whether you liked it or not

and it didnt turn out too well. all you could remember was drinking your face off and then opening your eyes in your bed, still in your outfit. assuming your friend brought you home you picked up your phone and unlocked it to immediately see your text log with seungcheol making your heart drop

there were 3 messages in total since your last apology

“chwol i msiss hou so mwuch came beck i love you se mych”

you saw he read it immediately but took 19 minutes to reply

“yn your drunk, get some rest. stay safe”

“im nat i love you, im sorry”

seungcheol left you on seen.

somehow to your and his suprise the only word you could spell right was ‘i love you’

especially seungcheol. the whole day he subconsciously kept going back to look at the message to see if youd come back and apologize or even try and clear things up but the most important thing to him was the “i love you”

did you mean it?

when he first saw the message on his phone at 2:22 from you saying “i love you” his heart stopped, well until he read the rest of the message, it was clear you were drunk but he hated how it still had an effect on him

drunk words were sober thoughts but still, he wished to hear those 3 words from you when you were intoxicated.

seungcheol still longed for you to tell him you love him even after these months but his expectations for you were low. as much as he’d hate to say it, he began to give up on the chance you’d love him again

but he still loved you.

the fourth time reaching out (sorta)

its been a year and a half since you both had ended things. admittedly you realized your issues and worked on yourself, you weren’t ashamed to admit that you were a horrible person before cause you were. but now you can at least be proud with the person youve became

you took time away from those associated with seungcheol to avoid seeing him and breaking down your healing process but now you were finally ready to face everyone and most importantly

apologize to seungcheol in person

walking inside hoshi’s party the music was blasting, everyone was talking to one another and you walked around looking for some familiar faces.

jeonghan was the first to greet you, he hugged you while mumbling questions asking of how youve been and what youve been up to. but as he hugged you he turned your body to face seungcheol.

you looked up and saw his eyes. he stared at you as if he never saw you before and froze once again

the same way he did when you left

jeonghan whispered a “go talk to him” before leaving.

as cliche as it sounded, in a room full of people you both stared at eachother blanky

he wss the first to smile slight at you and you took that as a go sign to walk to him

as you made you way to him time moved slow, it seemed like everyone wasnt there anymore, just you and him

and like time went back to normal youre now standing infront of him

“seung-“

“cheol!”

you heard another voice call him by his nickname

looking for the voice you found it belonged to another woman.

it was hard to not assume the worst especially when you looked up and saw his embarrassed face.

“i love you….im sorry”

those two words were all you said before you left

again.

but this time you walked away with not the regret of being afraid but instead regretting the fact you let him

go to be with someone else

with tied in with how much you hated yourself for being so selfish you couldnt or rather didnt want to imagine him with anyone other than you

but there was no one to blame but you

walking back to your car you sat in the driver seat and laid on the horn while screaming letting out every single feeling youve felt and held in despite thinking youve let go

i guess somethings never leave

your love for him.

“excuse me?” you looked up at the old lady

you rolled down the window and tilted your head

“your horn” she awkwardly laughed

“oh right. sorry.” you chuckled awkwardly as she left, you reclined your seat back wanting to disappear

the fifth time reaching out

seungcheol spent the entire night and day after the party consoling himself. he tried to convince himself that you already moved on so what happened last night didnt mean much.

you werent worried were you?

she was just his cousin but you wouldnt be jealous or bothered because you had moved on

moved on

moved

oh fuck it. he hoped you didnt.

but he had spent the entire year and a half, almost 2 years afraid to go for what he wants. but life was too short

life was too short to hold him to get you back

whether it ends with him getting slapped or completely heart broken

its okay with him

so as he opens his door with his shoss on he-

you.

you looked as almost shocked as him as he opened the door

you both jumbled your words

“i-“

“well-“

“but-“

“hi.”

you both said

there was a moment of silence of you two deciding what to do, or who should speak first

you shook your head and decided to go first

“i love you

im sorry.”

he froze, the words he longed to hear from you finally hit his ears. there was no ‘and’ between the ‘i love you’ and ‘im sorry’. its as if you were apologizing for loving him like you were scared

and he knew you were. so hearing it made it 10 times better

the silence from him caused you to be able to hear your heartbeat, you looked up and seen him smiling warmly as he opened his arms

your lips curved up slightly as you entered his embrace

“i love you

i havent stopped”

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mythalism · 17 days ago

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more me verbally processing my feelings on this game and it's story that i sent in discord but i know reading these things can be helpful to others processing so im sharing them here <3

even though i think i personally am able to find coherent meaning in solas's ending, specifically the status of the veil, and i do think its good and i like it, i really have to work to do it. the way its written is kind of confusing because the message is like ok. let go of your regrets. but you also have to atone for your mistakes. but solas believes he is atoning by taking the veil back down and bringing immortality back and making sure more spirits are not turned into demons? but the story tells us that version of atonement is Wrong, but why is it wrong? because people will die? but people also die because of the veil? mages are mass incarcerated and lobotimized bc of the veil, elves have been enslaved for millenia, PEOPLE AGE AND DIE, BECAUSE OF THE VEIL? so he isnt supposed to atone for that mistake by fixing it he's just supposed to accept it and let go? so are we supposed to atone for our mistakes or not? what determines whether or not we need to atone? he has to atone for what he did to the titans but not what he did by accident to his own people i guess? and he is going to atone by maintaining the status quo that he created because people have gotten used to it?

i think the answer based on the regret prison scene with rook escaping with varric's help and that banger line of varric's is to take accountability and own up to your choices, they are yours and no one can take them from you. rook says something to one of the regret statues (for me it was harding) thats like "i made a choice and so did you and you knew the risks" or something so i think that is the key. solas cannot accept his choices and so he is desperate to undo them no matter what kind of harm it may do. he is trapped in regret and the past to the point that he cant accept them and move forward, and varric is the perfect contrast of this with how readily he accepts his death as a consequence of his love and hope for his friend. even mythal accepts her own choices when she tells solas that she turned him from his purpose. and she doesnt apologize or even express regret at all, partly because shes a crazy bitch (affectionate) but partly because i think her quiet, cold acceptance is part of the lesson solas needs to learn in that moment. solas is constantly saying, "im sorry, but", "ir abelas, vhenan, but i cannot". mythal just states her actions plainly; i forced you to take a body, i brought you into war, these burdens are ours to bear together, i release you. no apology, no rumination, she is at peace with her decision even though it is wrong. i think this works wonderfully on a personal individual level of personal regrets. it is a good lesson; regret does not serve any purpose other than to hurt you. it brings no one back, it helps nothing, it does not make the world a better place. solas has to let go of his regrets so that he can become the hero that varric sees deep down in him. it is an essential part of his personal journey as a character... but it gets stickier when we are talking about systemic change. obvi a lot of dragon age's modern, young audience is very much in favor of "tear it all down!!" and i am too but i think with solas they are trying to tell a very personal and individual story of a man and his regrets rather than make a social commentary on radical change, but they also dont make that clear enough, so the two get muddied together when it comes to the question of the veil in a way that feels like they are advocating for maintaining the status quo, which i dont think was their intention.

i think this is so muddied because inquisition very much makes clear commentary on systems and institutions with the chantry, the orlesian empire, ferelden monarchy, mages and templars, and the inquisition itself being all vulnerable to corruption, and solas has a lot to say about all of this and he is very much presented as being right (like when he tells you about the corruption in your own ranks in trespasser and how hes spying on you lol) and then veilguard does not do this AT ALL, all of the issues are very personal ones of people and their identity, people and their family, people and their regrets etc. so i think a lot of us are in this mindset from inquisition of like.... yeah disrupt the status quo install a puppetmaster elf to rule an imperialist empire, make leliana pope and radicalize the chantry even if its bloody, dissolve the inquisition, abolish the circles etc. etc. and the question of the veil is very much an extension of these philosophical questions about systems and organizations. and for those of us who leaned towards dissolution of all of those corrupt structures, dissolution of the veil is the logical conclusion to a story thats sending us that message. but then veilguard just. does not even engage with these topics at all. like its not even a question. it takes the question of the veil and translates it into a personal issue of solas's psyche (which is super interesting, just different) and connects it to his past actions, his relationship with mythal, and his perception of himself, rather than a macro-level question of what is best for the world when pursuing change, and the answer for solas on a personal level ends up being different from the answer that inquisition was asking us, but it feels disjointed as a result.

so the veil staying up was the right decision because it forced solas to let go of his regrets and the game is about him. so it was an exercise in his therapy session with his two ex-gfs and some annoying kid who wont leave him alone. but the problem is it doesn't answer or engage with the greater questions and themes about systemic change that the series has been building up to.

veilguard is interesting because it wants to be dragon age 2 so bad while simultaneously being terrified of dragon age 2. solas bringing down the veil would have been the answer to the question that anders blowing up the chantry asked, but veilguard decided to ask a completely different question instead. and i think it did a good job in that specific goal, but it doesnt satisfy 15 years of build up and instead just throws it out the window in favor of something else.

#veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #da:v spoilers #datv spoilers #dav spoilers #mine.txt #i will never stop writing essays

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insomniakisses · 1 year ago

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Unexpected News and Welcome Additions

Character: Aemond Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/notes: swear words, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy, aegon being an ass, aemond being a sweet baby, daemon flipping his shit, protective momma rhaenyra, happy alicent, your rhaenyras daughter u can choose adopted or not, ooc daemon? Slight ooc aegon?

Taglist: @introverbatim, @neobanguniverse,

Part one.

“We have some news.” Aemond grins, standing abruptyly silencing the chatter at the table.

All eyes direct towards him and you can see the confusion on your mother’s face, her eyes darting between the two of you. Never the less you accept his hand allowing him to pull you up next to him.

“We, well..” you pause looking at daemon how his eyes seem to stare into your soul. “We are engaged!” You cheer awkwardly.

You can see otto smiling with a nod, while alicent seems to be piecing everything together and u know she knows with the dart of her eyes towards your stomach. Helaena smiling softly at you seeming excited to have someone to talk to about married life.

On the otherside if the table you see your family, your mother gaping at you while your brothers hold blank faces and you can see the clenched jaw of daemon. Yet, the king seemed to be joyfull. “Wonderful news my dear! You have made me a very proud grandsire!” He chuckles.

Thats when shit breaks loose, aegon just had to speak up. He snickers rolling his eyes saying “Dear brother is such a pushover isn’t he mother?” You see her give him a look to shut up but as always he pays it no mind “I mean fucking the whore is one thing but to marry her once pregnant? God what kind of hold has she on you?”

You’re eyes water when all eyes turn to you, closing them and flinching into Aemond’s hold when Daemon stands. Slamming his hand on the table claiming you must have been forces that the greens were taking u hostage that it was all a plan.

It seems your mother had had enough of the dramatics, sending the children to bed including Helaena and Aegon. Before clearing the room of her husband and the hand stating this was a matter for her, Alicent, Viserys and the two of you to navigate.

—

“So.. you are to be married then?” Your mother asks tentatively causing you to bow your head in shame.

“I planned to explain to you.. But we didnt know how to tell everyone and-“

“Its okay sweet child,” the queen hums grabbing your face and kissing your head. You can’t help relax in her hold, “I can’t say i am upset to be made a grandmother again!” She grins.

“And i a proud grandsire of another fine knight or beautiful princess” the king adds, looking at your mother as if to ask for her opinion. It’s only then that you realise shes crying, the sight making you well up to.

“My baby is all grown up” she chokes out wrapping you in her arms and leaving several firm kisses to your head. Her hand unconsciously rubbing your stomach.

“Your… not mad?” You ask cautiously and she chuckles and says “how, my sweetone, could i be mad at you for falling for a mischievous second son thats also your uncle” and you cant help chuckle at the similarity between you.

—

“I cant! I can’t! FUCK! OW! Make it stop-“ you screamed squeezing your mothers hand tight as the maesters told you to push again. Your body felt like it was on fire. But your mother and Alicents soothing words lessoned your fear, slightly. You had been in labour for almost the full day and the babe seemed to refuse to be born and despite your please they seemed reluctant to let Aemond in.

Well, your mother was. You knew why deep down she was afraid that if the choice was given he would sacrifice you to save the baby. You however, knew that he would not. The thought would never cross his mind. So you begged and plead once more for him stating you would not give girl until he was with you. A task they knew you very well might do so they sent for him and the second he held your hand kissing your head and telling you he was there, was the most safe and relaxed you had felt all day.

Your son came quickly after that, a heavy and healthy baby your mother had remarked kissing your head and leaving with Alicent after she muttered her own praises of her newest grandson.

—

“We should call him Aemond.” Your husband grinned, causing you to slap his shoulder.

“No, I’m not calling him after you.” You groaned.

“And why not!?” He huffs clearly disappointed and you give him a look, “do you want me to be moaning our son’s name while we fuck?”

He shudders audibly gagging at the thought. “Perhaps not.” He sighs.

The two of you had been arguing over a name for hours, your son sound asleep in his arms as he gently rocked him.

“We could call him after someone else though”

You muse, the thought making him look up at you quizzically. “Who?”

“I was thinking Laenor…” you whispered afraid he may reject the idea but he hums nodding in approval. “A fine name from a honourable namesake, a fitting name for our little knight.”

You smile up at him, thanking the gods you got such a loving gentle husband.

“Should I let the maesters know then?” He asks, setting Laenor in your arms gently. “Yes, and could you send my mother in on your way? Id like to tell her first.”

—

“LAENOR GET BACK HERE!” You hear from your place by your husband, both of your turning to see the young prince holding what seemed to be a dragon egg while your Aegon chased after him.

The sight making you laugh, especially when Aegon reaches for the egg only for your son to dodge and throw the egg at his father. Aemond catching it with ease.

“Bested by a 3 year old, brother?” He taunts him, Aegon rolling his eyes in response snatching the egg back and placing it into the pot of hot coals by your bed side.

“Well excuse me for picking an egg out for my future nephew!” He defends, rolling his eyes when Aemond corrects him saying that he is to have a girl this time. The notion making you smile, hes always wanted a daughter to spoil.

Your silence is broken when your son pulls Aegons pants down running off in a bout of laughter.

“OI YOU LITTLE-“

—

“She’s beautiful” your mother coos, her finger moving to softly stroke the babes cheek. “That she is” Alicent joins placing a kiss to your head as she congratulates you.

“Have you thought of a name?” She quizzes looking at her son and then you.

You smile, telling them that their was really only one name that came to mind when you found out you had a daughter. You smile at your mother as you say it, “Visenya.”

She lets out a soft gasp, leaning over to kiss your cheek her heart touched that you would name your daughter that. You embrace her softly before placing the babe into her arms letting her and Alicent fawn over her as you lean back into your husbands arms.

“She’s Perfect” he whispers kissing you sofly. “Plus… Aegon’s gonna be pissed” he chuckles.

ANNNNNND DONE! i doubt there will be a part three :)

#aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond imagines #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond fic #prince aemond #house of the dragon imagines #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagines

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air--so--sweet · 3 months ago

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TUA Season 4 Spoilers

I was so sure we would and then so disappointed that we didn't get, two Ben's in the one body/Sparrow Ben getting Umbrella Ben's memories. And it just occurred to me, the timelines bleeding together, the Keepers having memories of their alternate timeline lives - the plot literary was set up in a way that meant he was primed for it and we still didn't get it. Even if you want to do the nonsensical Jennifer and him become the blob plot you could still have it happen. Have him say something to Viktor in passing that only their Ben could know and that's part of why Viktor is so hell bent on helping him, because he realises some part of Sparrow Ben is also their Ben, even if it's just his memories. Or have Ben remember his sacrifice for Viktor and therefore he feels a connection to him and so will listen to him and accept his attempts to help and it adds further motivation for him to sacrifice himself for Viktor again (even though I hate that he did that, especially when Viktor dies literally what, like a half hour later?).

Have him start to have memories that make him desperate for familial connection to the Umbrellas but they don't see him as that Ben and he's been telling them he's not their brother for years now so he feels unable to forge a connection now. Have him be rebuffed by Klaus of all people, the closest one to Umbrella Ben and the only one who gave Sparrow Ben a chance, and have that loneliness, that desire for love, push him towards Jennifer. Especially as Sparrow Ben has always been a traumatised lonely kid deep down who cant express that because he's been taught it's a weakness. I mean, Klaus practically said as much to him last season and I honestly thought that was where the story was going, that that was why Ben didnt realise something abnormal was happening and that he was being manipulated. But no, the particles were attracting them and made them think and act similarly was the reasoning, and they had no agency at all.

Also making them both say 'I always loved this movie' in reference to The Blob wasn't clever, it was just cheap. Like, considering the tone of the scene it takes place in, it didn't feel like a joke, but if it was meant as serious foreshadowing that's actually worse.

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 spoilers #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #brelly ben #umbrella ben #sparrow ben #negative opinion #negative opinions

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thetravelingmaster · 3 months ago

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Convinced She Can't Resist

Female's Point of View - Conditioning - Hypnosis

His soft, irresistible tone effortlessly pulled my attention upward. I looked up into his eyes, I couldn't help but smile as I felt my will steadily be drained away with each bewitching word he spoke.

He was hypnotizing me again and even though I knew exactly why he kept doing it, I couldn't stop myself from instantly surrendering because his inductions are impossible to resist. The moment I even suspect that he is trying to trance me, I give myself over to the experience even if I know full well that every time I do, he deepens my utter surrender to his will.

And before you say anything, the reason for my helplessness isn't because I'm on board with what he is doing to me. In fact, I'm still very aware that it would be much more prudent for me to do everything in my power to prevent it. However, just like my inability to resist being hypnotized by him, I can't bring myself to complain about anything he does with me, nor can I take any action that would help me break free from his clever hypnotic hold over me.

It’s simply impossible…

So in spite of the number of times he wants to trance me, I always allow him to do it regardless of my mood. I’m well aware that from an outsider’s perspective, my willingness makes me look like a hypno-addict, but in truth, it’s less about my desire to be hypnotized and more about my inability to resist it.

It might have taken me a while to realize he was changing things in my behavior and beliefs, but right from the start, I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to be aware that my trances did more than just relax me. It’s actually pure coincidence that I do though because you see, if I was the type of subject that didn’t remember her trances, I would honestly have been clueless that my new behavior and actions was all his doing. I would have been like those girls you read about in erotic mind control stories and thought that my new beliefs were my own epiphanies.

But as it turned out, I’m the type of subject that always remembers moments from my trances. That’s why I know that during my first session, he took his time and eventually convinced me that his hypnosis skills were impossible to resist while I was deep in trance. I didn't know this at the time, but it turns out that whatever your subconscious can be convinced of while you are that deep in trance becomes part of you as a new truth you can't deny.

I really should have been more cautious…

However, I didn't really believe hypnosis could do anything special so when he first offered to hypnotize me, I didn't see the harm in accepting his request. As a matter of fact, I was so convinced that hypnosis wasn't real that I was surprised when his words actually did make me sleepy. He told me his induction would make me drowsy and they did exactly that. His words pulled me deeper and deeper into new truths and before I knew it, I was in a deep trance.

I remember waking up a little confused as to what I had just experienced, but that quickly faded away and was replaced with genuine awe when I realized that it had worked. Which served to prove the truth of my new conviction because even if I didn’t believe in hypnosis, his induction had pulled me effortlessly down into trance.

I guess that same feeling of awe is why I didn't mind it when he began to trance me every time we met up. It wasn't something I could prevent or resist and since it admittedly felt pretty nice to relax my mind in that way, I didn't bother to worry about his sudden obsession. I'm not a completely clueless idiot however so eventually, I did start to notice that each trance I experienced seemed to bring me deeper and the deeper I sank, the easier it was for him to convince me about new things.

Copy this link to your browser to read the rest of this story

mc-diaries.com/diaries/convinced-she-cant-resist

Model: Reilly Sanders

#Convinced She Can't Resist #full body story #reilly sanders

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m-ayo-o · 1 year ago

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emoji event 🍒💔🖤 : virgin!reader + breakup sex + suguru 18+ messed up emotional situation, depression mention, insensitive reader, good fuck w the saddest boy around :( wc 1k for @i-literally-cant-with-this !! ty for requesting this one was soooo hard

You've been pulling away from him for months.

He can feel the distance.

Or perhaps he's pushing you… he finds it easy to blame himself these days, with the way he's been suffering. All the negative thoughts stacking up, one by one. With each curse he collects, another part of his soul dies. He wonders how much longer he can keep this up.

Either way, your relationship is going downhill.

Since you're a few years younger than him and he's your first boyfriend, he hasn't been pushy with you physically and you've never even had sex all this time.

But now, after another dramatic argument centering around his apparent self loathing and lack of motivation, things are getting quite heated.

If only you knew what he was going through. If only you understood the burden that weighs so heavily on his shoulders.

If only he could tell you.

But he can't.

And he can't stop you hating him.

And with the way you're going, he's going to end up hating you too.

"You don't even want to fuck me, do you?"

He's pulled from his thoughts.

"What?"

You turn to face him, tears in your eyes, "You don't want me."

He can hear the pain in your voice now, everything slipping into place. He realises, through no fault of his own, without even meaning to, he's been neglecting you. He's been hurting you.

"Wait, it's not-"

He panics. But it's already too late. You can't stand it anymore. It's not that you hate him, it's not that you're blaming him for being depressed... you feel guilty thinking like this, but you need the old Suguru. You need the Suguru you met last summer, under blue skies, with that confident smile and those flirty eyes.

You need him. But he's not coming back.

"All I wanted- was for you to be my first, ever since I met you, Suguru... I loved you..."

"Wait, wait- loved?"

"I have to go, I have to leave, Sugu, I can't stay here. With you-" your sniffling and hiccupping is persistent now.

"No..." he steps up to you now, leaving his apathy behind to clasp your hands, "no"

His grip gets forceful while he leans down to face you, nose to nose.

His dark eyes flit between yours; tear stained and puffy. He presses his forehead to yours and blinks away his own tears.

"You can't go," you feel his breath on your lips, for the first time, feeling that desperation and want from the man you so sorely crave.

You shake your head.

"'s too late"

"No, no, baby, please," he grabs the back of your neck now, his expression turning pained.

"Please..." his voice mellows again, "please let me show you... how much I love you"

You blink up at him with those pretty, watery eyes. It's been ages since he told you that.

"Sugu, it, it's different-"

"Please," he insists, pushing you till your ass meets the kitchen counter and his arms surround your body.

"Let me," he presses kisses to your cheeks, like he's trying to make the tears disappear, "let me do this."

Your lip trembles, but you nod and accept a soft, longing kiss.

And another. He keeps going, more and more, until he pushes your mouth open. He takes his chance, slipping his tongue against yours in a kiss so deep and loving he might just convince you to stay. At least for one more night.

"It's really over?"

You look up at him and nod, not knowing what to say, and he claims your lips again; your whole mouth.

This kiss feels heavier, now you can feel the warm trickle of tears down your cheeks. You can't tell if they're yours or his.

But you don't care. You get lost in the moment, finally feeling him touch you how you need it.

Now you're all over each other, everything is just going so fast.

You tug at his hair, then his shirt, stripping him and exposing his muscular chest.

"Suguru…" you don't want to leave him.

You pull at his belt now, undoing his jeans and getting your hands on him.

He looks a little hesitant, but moans at the contact, his hips starting to move as you stroke and palm him.

"Baby," his hands find your waist now, "let me take your virginity."

And there it is.

That sexy, charming voice of his has got you weak at the knees.

"Y-yes, Suguru" you blink and nod, feeling stunned, "yes."

He lifts you instantly, taking you into another hot kiss while your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter to feel every smooth roll of his hips.

"Sugu- ah-"

The bulge in his shorts feels heavenly between your legs- you're so touch starved he could easily get you cumming in your pants, just as he has many times before.

But tonight you're finally getting the real deal.

One of his slender hands pushes your skirt up, panties pulled aside, making you gasp. You can't help the look of hesitation that crosses your face.

"You want me to touch you?"

"Uh huh, yeah Suguru, I, I just need to feel you, please," you're borderline sobbing, hearing his voice so smooth and assertive.

He can't believe you're getting like this for him. He didn't realise you wanted this so badly.

So he taps at your clit, building up that pool of slick that's just perfect for sliding his fingers through. Then into you, slowly, seductively working you open. With each suck to your lip and every pump of his fingers, your pussy throbs and aches for him.

He watches your eyes cloud over with lust when he pulls his fingers out of you and proceeds to smear the wet juice all over his cock.

"Ngh, so fucking wet," you hear him moan, spreading your legs for him eagerly while he pumps himself and massages his tip over your clit.

He quirks up an eyebrow, giving a final check over your expression to ensure you're not backing down, and starts sinking himself inside.

"Ah!"

"Shit- I'll go slower, sorry"

You cling onto his shoulders, watching him bury himself into you, inch by inch.

He gets you crying his name, now he's pushing on such a sensitive part inside you- one you've never touched.

You take in sharp little breaths, the feeling starting to overwhelm you.

"Does it hurt?" He asks softly, pressing kisses over your cheeks.

You nod and stroke his hair.

"Yeah, Sugu it hurts…"

Fresh tears prick in your eyes, feeling the spread of his cock, the ache in your core, in your chest, in your heart.

You never thought your first time would be like this.

It was never meant to be like this.

But god, he feels amazing.

Your body starts to relax, your mouth hanging open with a soft moan as you start to enjoy the motions of his body; your bodies, entwined as one.

"Does that feel nice, baby?"

He holds your legs open and steady, fucking you slow, getting your insides all knotted up with his sweet words.

"Yeah, f-feels so good- s-so full"

"Mm, you feel that really nice deep spot I'm hitting?"

He watches your eyes roll back. Of course you can.

"Yeah, Sugu-"

"If I keep touching you there you'll cum- you want that?"

He sounds so fucking sexy all you can do is nod and take him.

"Yeah, I know you do, I know, let me do it for you"

He fucks you so sensually, your hands tangled in his hair with his lips sucking at yours, your bodies undulating together; pulsing like waves.

You collide again and again, in and out, until you're introduced to a new kind of pleasure.

He fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life- you know it may be the last he'll give you. Seeing you lose yourself, leaning back on the counter to accept every ounce of pleasure, he fills your body to the brim.

"Ngh, yeah, well done baby- how does your little virgin pussy like my cum, hm?"

"F-feels hot, Sugu"

He pumps you slower and slower, bringing you down gently.

"Did so good sweetheart."

He kisses your cheek and brings your head to his chest, his body engulfing yours in a big hug.

"Now you can at least say you'll miss the sex," he hums and kisses your head.

He lets you get cleaned up, watching you set your clothes back in place while he savours every moment of your presence. He knows he's going to have to watch you walk out that door at some point.

"Stay," he brushes your hair out of your face, "just for tonight."

"I-I-" you hesitate, looking down.

"Then I'll let you go."

Suguru, why are you doing this to yourself?

"It won't hurt as much if I get to fuck you a few more times."

suguru | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #female reader #geto suguru smut #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru #geto #magic.events⋆⁺#500 followers event #emoji event #🍒💔🖤#breakup #heartbreak #tw: sex

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altf4d3lete · 6 months ago

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Episode One this is single-handedly bringing back my obsession even though it never left

- its 2022. Why is everyone freaked out bc a girl wears all black. Like people do that on a daily basis nowadays

- PUGSLEY POOR GUY :(

- “I want names” didn’t you JUST see them walking away from the locker

- Stop shoving him in a locker tied up is actually so mean wtf

- I see people use this piranha scene as justification that she’d be okay with murder, but really it’s justification that she wouldn’t be okay with people hurting her friends and those she cares about AT ALL. She’s trying to KILL these guys just for bullying their brother. Imagine what she’d do to Tyler for hurting Eugene and Enid.

- The intro is SO fucking cool

- Emma was so far down on the list of actors and now my girl is #3 behind Jenna and buscemi. She’s a main character now B)

- If I were Wednesday I’d be pissed too. I CANT with the parents. Like I love you but RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER 😭

- It’s five minutes in and I have so many notes

- Have to say again with the “terrible, they’d know I didn’t get the job done” that Wednesday is MORBID, not okay with murder unless she deems the person deserves it

- Ergh there is clearly so much discrimination against outcasts

- Weems and morticia r lowkey giving homoerotic rivalry…

- I FORGOT HOW FUNNY WEDNESDAY IS

- I genuinely can’t even like… I CANT WHY DID WEEMS PAIR HER WITH ENID 😭

- Guys Enid is SO cute holy fuck. She is UNPHASED bro, she’s just so excited to have a roommate she’s so cute I’m sobbing. She just wanted to accept Wednesday.

- YALL WHEN THEYRE WALKING DOWN THE STEPS WEDNESDAY LITERALLY GRAVITATES TOWARDS ENID. LITERALLY RUNS INTO HER

- Wednesday just lies about killing two kids to Enid and Enid just moved on like nothing happened.

- Also HELLO? THEIR BANTER? Enid takes NO shit 😭

- Hmm part of me wonders if those wolves howling were making fun of Enid.

- They’re literally leaning into each other wha

- “You better watch your back” and Wednesday is behind her that’s so funny

- How do you go from “cute but clueless” to “obsessed” enjax was lowkey forced whereas wenclair had chemistry from the beginning

- AW PUGSLEY HES SO CUTE

- Wednesday being a housewife will NEVER make sense

- I know people hate the relationship between Wednesday and morticia but it’s very realistic. You can easily tell they still love each other despite the harsh words.

- YEESH THE HYDE TORE HIM APART (I think this works with my theory that the more Tyler is aware of the Hyde, the more controlled his attacks get. Which also means that he knew what he was doing when he killed Kinbott, leaving her alive to taste her fear. And he knew what he was doing in the forest when he tried to kill Wednesday and nearly attacked his father)

- WENCLAIR FIGHT THEYRE SO FUNNY TOGETHER THEY ARGUE LIKE AN OLD COUPLE

- when did Wednesday check out enid’s blog. How and why.

- THE LITTLE SCOFF BEFORE “you mean emojis?”

- Enid huffing is crazy girly is ANGRY

- The way they just stare each other down is crazy wenclair is SO full of banter I forgot how hilarious they are

- ENID SIDE EYES WEDNESDAY SO MUCH

- Bianca lowkey eating everyone up…

- Bianca is so aggressive in her fighting style, whereas Wednesday is precise. It’s really cool

- THE GASPING IN THE BACKGROUND AFTER “let’s see if you bleed in black and white.”

- Xavier scoffs so much in this show and every time he does it lowkey makes me hate him more

- “No good deed goes unpunished” okay elphaba

- Girly was smiling when she was about to die.

- DUDE WHY WAS XAVIER LEANING OVER HER? WHO DOES THAT? JUST SIT DOWN NEXT TO HER.

- “Call it instinct” shut up actually

- Bro she had NO clue who Xavier was 😭

- It bothers me that ppl think she cared Xavier was in the coffin. She just wanted to see the godmother come back to life fr

- THING HAHA MY FAV

- I would be flabbergasted if my therapist read the equivalent of my journal before our sessions. She never should have been sent that.

- Ergh Tyler…

- The deep voice lowkey sounds really forced, idk what it is about Tyler’s voice but it bugs me. I think it’s the way his lines always kinda have the same delivery.

- Twenty bucks when he probably makes that in like half a day of work 😭

- The pilgrims look like such dorks bro who are they tryna scare 💀

- Why are they asking her if she’s “been with a normie” that’s so weird

- “THIS LITTLE THING TOOK DOWN THREE BOYS???” HELP

- Her playing with the necklace means everything to me

- Damn the hiker was the third victim

- The sheet music doesn’t match what she was playing but that doesn’t rly matter

- Love that enid went from disgusted to things bff

- Their roof scene is so meaningful to me. They work so well together. Enid doesn’t need anyone but Wednesday and Wednesday doesn’t need anyone but Enid. Enid teaches her how to relate to others and feel empathy and Wednesday teaches Enid to unapologetically be herself.

- Nero :(

- Them bonding is so cute 😭 this is rekindling my obsession

- Notice the immediate disrespect from Tyler but Enid gets close with thing so quickly

- Damn Enid is suspicious. Bro has some killer instincts

- “Hint taken” and Xavier proceeds to KEEP talking to her

- So Wednesday gives Tyler a time and place and you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence that those three pilgrims show up at that exact time at place? Literally there WAITING? No way. Tyler had to have told them, sorry about it.

- I lowkey feel bad for Weems. She’s a little controversial but she was just trying to do her best for nevermore

- Nah man that was an absolute ploy. There’s no way they just happened to know where to be. Tyler was trying to keep her from leaving. He already knew who she was by then and that they needed her.

- Rowan was so conflicted he didn’t deserve to die. He was just trying to protect people

- The way she scrambled over to him even after he tried to kill her :(

- YALL I LOVE THIS SHOW WTF 😭

#wednesday #netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #tyler galpin #xavier thorpe #bianca barclay

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valentine-writes · 1 year ago

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Can you do enemies to lovers with 1016 Miles?? :3

[ this will be my last req for this account, moving to my new blog officially once this one is up! catch me on @l0vem41l <3 reqs will be open there when i'm ready ＞︿＜ ]

overachiever

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, burnout, reader also attends visions academy, reader is trying so so hard to not be mean and fails (im so sorry), one-sided academic rivalry, author doesn't know how american schools work (i am so so sorry), comfort (?) 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3」

↳ ft. miles morales (1610)

author's note: YES I CAN!!! however,, i put a lil twist on the prompt given and made it academic rivalry (i genuinely cant find a viable reason to beef w/ miles i am so sorry (-﹏-；) !!) anyways! hope this works with you!!! soz itz so short!!! :[[

"wow," your friend's eyes light up, scanning over your test results, "...you've gotta be like, the smartest person i know."

you laugh politely, smiling at them as they hand your paper back. "no, it's really not that big of a deal–"

"what do you mean 'not that big of a deal?! dude, you got 100% on a test most people failed." your friend shoves their paper in your face as evidence– a 57% in red on theirs. "that's like... the highest grade achievable. probably the highest in cla–"

"THIS GUY GOT A 101%!"

everyone turns to the voice– the loud kid who sat behind miles eyeing his test.

you blinked in disbelief. you didn't even know getting extra credit was possible on this one.

miles looked up at the faces of his staring peers faces filled with disbelief and slight annoyance, and fumbled to set his test face down on his desk. he flashed an awkward grin "uh... yeah?"

▸ you liked miles. he was friendly. sweet. genuine. you couldn't hate him if you wanted to. no, you didn't feel hate towards him. it was just... jealousy. simple, petty, burning jealousy.

▸ visions academy was something you had to work your ass off for, constantly studying just to stay on the level of the students who attended. NERDS. all of them were nerds. but you were attending this school too sooo,,,

and then there was miles. someone who barely even had to try to get the highest grades. he had you seething.

▸ the most humiliating part was the fact that he had little to no interest in competing with you at all. the few times you had spoken were awkward and curt on your end, and yes– it felt awful being so mean for something as small as personal resentment.

▸ nothing justified your one word responses or the accidental snark that would slip into those few words. you mentally kicked yourself for the times you watched his grin falter because of something you said, miles awkwardly trying to laugh off whatever cold remark you just shot at him.

he'd walk away, dejected, and you'd stand there for a moment– frozen as you fought the urge to run up to him and try to explain yourself or beg for forgiveness. it didn't make sense to at this point. maybe he'd just accept this was the way you were– the way things would be between you two.

▸ so yes, perhaps in your pursuit of favouring school over every other aspect of your life, your social skills were left rotting and underdeveloped. but you knew, deep down, it wasn't just you being awkward.

being around him made you feel small. talking to someone, radiating the aura of someone with a promise-filled future made you look completely directionless and clueless in comparison. the effort you put into your academics was almost repulsive to think about when miles could take a test with a blindfold on and probably still score 90s.

maybe it was the deep set fear that you'd never amount to anything if you didn't burn yourself out trying. all of a sudden, the academic validation of being good wasn't enough. not when you were one of the best once.

▸ you spent an absurd amount of time trying to avoid him, deliberately moving to the furthest corners of the library so he wouldn't see you there struggling to wrap your head around whatever you were being taught in physics.

heavens above forbid that he walk up to you, greeting you with that sunny smile and cheerful voice that could make anyone falter. you may have been jealous of him– but oh, how you hated that feeling that way when he nothing but well-meaning.

the last sip of your coffee– long cooled by now thanks thermodynamics– did nothing to make you feel less dead. you had lost track of the time you had spent practically decomposing in this library, studying for an upcoming physics test that had you reeling just by the mere thought of it.

you sighed, staring at the papers strewn on the desk. your hands fidgeted with the pencil in your hand, it's eraser and tip rendered flat and useless by now, as you tried to muster the energy to gather your things to leave. it was much too late. the library would be closed soon and you'd be forced to go back home to study at your own desk in your bedroom.

this was routine. go to school, study in the library until it gets dark, and go home to study more– the next day, you'd find yourself still awake and studying or with a headache, your cheek pressed to the desk, and drool on your notebook. yeah. your bed hasn't been used in a solid while. and science homework isn't exactly the comfiest pillow. but this is what you were used to.

standing up, you stretched out a bit– and immediately froze as a familiar voice called your name. you paused, reluctantly turning to the source of the voice.

"...god, morales–" you huffed, "you nearly scared me half to death."

this is the friendliest you've been towards him in a while, he notices, as you flash him a tiny, crooked smile on your tired face. all potential malice you could have held had been beaten out by your absolute lack of energy.

he approaches you and looks at your desk, considering what to say to fill the silent air. he places a hand on your shoulder, you stiffen–

"hey." miles flashes a grin, not his signature smile but,, somewhat of a forced smolder.

you stare and resist the urge to cringe, wondering if you were sleep deprived to the point of hallucinations. you gently brush his hand off your shoulder.

"...hi?" you respond, unsure of what to do.

miles is snapped out of whatever stupid trance he was in by your voice.

"oh– uh– yeah, hey," he repeats your name again, trying to recover from whatever that was, "is– is everything okay?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

he lets out a little chuckle. "you know what i mean. all... this." miles' hand gestures vaguely to your desk and current state of complete entropy. "how long have you been here?"

you avert your gaze, shame burning in your face. "i... don't know?"

a pause.

miles places a hand on your back this time, in an attempt of friendly comfort. geez, are they keeping you locked in here?" he quips, earning half of a dry laugh from you. "c'mon. you should probably get home and rest by now."

"but–" your lips part in protest, looking back up at him to argue– but he just looks back, concern filled in his dark doe-like eyes. all possibilities of fighting him on this were out the window.

"you need it." he insists, a gentle smile forming on his face. much better than the weird smoulder from earlier, you think. "i'll even walk you there."

before you can speak up, he moves away from you, beginning to help you gather up your things to pack up. you mumble a silent thank you to him, which he accepts happily with a nod.

as he hands over the papers, his eyes scan them. "oh! physics? i love physics."

"no shit, morales." you scoff, snatching up the papers from him and stuffing them in your bag. "it sure seems to love you."

yet again, you've managed to mess things up. you bite the inside of your cheek before you can say anything worse. a sigh escapes your lips, as you decide to at least try and save the interaction.

"look... i'm really sorry. it's been a rough day, i've been struggling to get the concepts down, i'm falling behind and feeling stupid as hell right now, and– to make everything worse, the fucking test is just stressing me out and i just– i just..." you trail off from your ramblings, a sob getting caught in your throat as your shaky hands grip your backpack.

"woah, woah, hey– it's okay."

he slowly puts an arm around your shoulder, careful not to startle you or make you uncomfortable. you don't even realize how you lean into him. "let's just get you home. you've done your best, yeah?"

you nod. he offers you a little smile.

"exactly. and that's enough. okay? you're doing more than you can handle right now." there's a few more shared words as he reassures you.

part of him wonders how long this had been going on– how long you had been working yourself until you broke– mainly because that test that was stressing you out was more than a week away. yeah. he'd need to convince you to watch after yourself more often.

"and now a silly one!!!" (more lighthearted hcs below for the aftermath of this becuz goodness me.)

▸ things definitely ease up around miles. if he can't convince you to step away from your work, he's chosen to be able to regulate it.

studying with him in a local cafe is now a frequent thing you two do together. miles always gives you time to work, but will then ever so subtly lure you into moving on from your work to hang out with him normally. and it works. every single time. you might start in the library or cafe, but where you'll be later? always a mystery.

whether it's a walk in the park, going back to his place to chat, or finding some random activity to do, you find yourself bonding with him more and more. your jealousy begins to fade, finding a friend in him instead of someone you have to one up.

▸ you both spontaneously decided to see a new horror movie once and accidentally got miles in trouble with his parents for coming home after curfew. and he'd 100% do it again in a heartbeat if you asked.

▸ no matter what you get on that next test, miles is going to congratulate you like it's the best he's ever seen. he's overjoyed to share your achievements, to celebrate them like no one in your life ever has.

miles holds up his test as you tell him your grade. "you got a 92? hey look– me too!"

a snarky voice speaks up, "well, i got a 98% so–"

"no one was talking to you." miles retorts.

you press a hand to your mouth and look away, trying to stifle laughter. was he always this sassy or did you just end up rubbing off on him?

▸ you both end up being extra studious for the next test (breaks included this time) and he's sure to be extra loud about congratulating you for your perfect 100%

maybe the sass wasn't all you,,, but the minor pettiness definitely is your influence. it's actually not. miles is pretty easygoing,, but man did he not like when that random ass kid gave you attitude.

you smile at miles, ensuring to do the same for him if not, a little louder

"what? 'm complimenting you." you tilt your head at miles' stunned expression.

for a moment, he stumbles over his words. "i know– you just– i didn't expect that from you, so–"

you laugh. "what? you want me to go back to being mean or something?"

miles laughs too. it's hard not to stare at the way he lights up a room like this.

▸ things feel lighter now. you've made social progress with others, you have a life beyond just school– and you have miles. part of you wonders if you'll ever be able to tell him just how much he means to you and how you wish you could've just been his friend from the start.

sometimes, in the corner of his eye, he catches your wistful stare. and though he doesn't utter a single word, you start to feel that he cherishes you just as much.

#WOOOOOO #and we are MOVING!!#unedited as balls im so sorry #i like miles. i did have to rewatch clips cuz i STILL CANT GET SPEECH PATTERNS RIGHT.#i will one day. trust #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman: across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #many tags #academic rivals but it's a conflict with no teeth

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