#I think I had food poisoning or something

[ikkosu]

Can you please rant about your favorite Prowl imagines?

I have so many. Prowl is a perfect box of delicious imagines. (Mild nsfw)

His personality, for starters, is really interesting if he ever had a person he liked. There's two ways I'd like to think how prowl would react.

Realistically, he'll consider you to be a weakness and does what he always does best when it comes to weaknesses — he avoids it. It's tempting to imagine he'll act cold to you, give you the cold shoulder and douse you with his icy-cold glare. You'll never know why he acts that way and he'll make sure you never find out. (His pride and misery depends on it. )

But, and this sound crazy, can you imagine a prowl not being cold but instead accepting of his feelings? Like, the moment he starts noticing and realizing why he acts the way he does around you (Door wings more expressive, face plate pinched in a way he's more focused, and the biggest giveaway : his sparkrate picks up.)

Obviously, avoiding you is going to distract him. Even worse, meddle with his work. So, his TACNET proposed he might as well get on with it and confess.

He did spare some mind not bring it out too bluntly, guiding you to the garden then holding your hand. The way he said it made it sound like Cybertron will verge on destruction if he didn't confess (if you also didn't accept) and if it were any other person he'd understand if they slapped the engex out of him and walk away. Nothing good comes out a coerced relationship.

Which is why he was genuinely surprised when you accepted. His TACNET temporarily sputtered, crunching on same words over and over again. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes—"

He was like that. For the entire day.

With the confession out of the way, I'd like to think, aside from lumbering through base with his 'Work Personality' turned on, he's unusually gentle with you. He's still prowl. Sassy prowl. Grouchy prowl. Straight to the point Prowl. Table flipping prowl. But he's a lot less that when he's with you. (Can you tell I love grouchy characters with soft spots) . You saw all the times he's calm. All the times he's gentle and all the times he's loving.

Like Earthspark prowl, I want him touchy. I want him handsy. Ratchet notices Prowl actually gets off work on time these past few months. Prowl is quick to stride into your little house and pick you up by the arm does, emulating the way you do with your car, and nuzzles you. He loves the soft touch of your palms on his back, especially the sensitive spot between his door wings. Whenever you press down, his wings flutter and flatten, engine revving into a purr.

He likes the touch of anything soft. That includes your body, your bed that smells like you, and pillows. But the thing is, he's too big for your bed so anytime he comes and stays over, you both retreat to the living room where the entire space is a mattress comprised of all the pillows you hogged from every corner of your house. Prowl liked to press his face into your belly and chess and recharge.

He's got an exceptionally brilliant sense of smell. Which is why you never won at bide and seek. In all of the hiding spaces you used, prowl simply snatched you out like a wet rag with a twist to his lips.

Prowl doesn't care if he has to show affection in public. He'll only do it when he wants to and doesn't care of what people think. Of course, there's a time and place too, he's not that indecent freaky.

I can't help but envision him to be perfect husband material XD

He's straightforward. He might hide some things from you, either becuase it's a safety concern or something else entirely. But hey, you have to trust him on this. The only thing you have to know is that there's a special place in his spark that has you in it.

He learnt how to cook human food, and is incredibly precise with it. He thinks too much or too little of the said ingredient might poison you, while simultaneously using a decade old energon mix to whip up his meal. And, possibly, get sick from it. But his favorite past time is scouring through the Earth Internet and trying to bake sweets. He might even try to make you Organic-friendly Cybertronian food with how insistent you are sometimes.

And when you're all but being cute with him, sometimes he have limits and he'll pinch your chin and tip your head up into a kiss.

It's always fun when he's horny. Mostly becuase he's just awkward about. Like he doesn't know what to tell you how to deal with this raging boner he has .... sit on it, please?

Prowl doesn't want to mess up this relationship like he always did with the many ones he could've had something more. He's tired of fighting against himself. For once he realized he could have something different. Maybe, live a normal life. Have actual people who care about him.

At some point he notices the subtle nuances in his behavior ever since he accepted his feelings. He thinks he might relapse and shrink into his shell again. But with your head on his lap, playing your phone as he reads his report — sometimes things aren't meant for change.

[dakota1435]

Moonlight -- Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 3.3k

tags: 18+ NSFW!!, mention of blood, biting, penetration, mention of alcohol

previous chapters on Ao3 / This blog !

Chapter 6

After your…newfound experience, Sylus left the house to attend to more business matters. Always so busy, yet didn’t seem bothered by it. But, like the past couple of weeks has been, you’ve been left alone with your thoughts. Now, something different was blossoming in you. Your mind was constantly preoccupied with the memory of Sylus’ sweet, poisonous words. His bite wasn’t anything like the first time. It burned like fire, the heat searing across your body. It gave you goosebumps, recalling the feeling. But the pleasure and pain were both equal with each other. You found yourself wanting to feel it again, craving it like a strong wine. 

           Most importantly, you found yourself confused. The old you would have rather died than to submit at the hands of someone violent and arrogant. He had everything at his fingers, and you easily fell into all of it. Just like he knew you would. Your life changed completely overnight, yet it only took a matter of time to accept this new one. How long would he keep you around? Would he tire from you, bored of your mortal existence? If so, would he set you back out into the world? You felt dizzy just thinking about it. These negative thoughts weren’t good for you, but it was hard to think about anything else. It made the feeding so much easier, and felt heavenly at that, but your dumb mortal emotions reacted strongly. You didn’t know what to take from it. You were food for Sylus, your only purpose to serve him what he craves. Maybe he didn’t care about you like he acted. Maybe he didn’t want you, other than for one reason you were purchased for. 

           Truthfully, it made you depressed. A hollow feeling started to form in your chest. For the rest of the night, you didn’t leave his room. You dismissed off the twins who brought you dinner, having trouble finding the motivation or energy to exist. Maybe it was some deeper, inner insecurity you never realized you had. Time moves slow, too slow when all you did was lay there. Your thoughts were swimming, questions firing left and right in your brain. It felt like hours have passed, your body aching from your stillness. You expected Sylus to be there any second but he wasn���t there.

          “Miss? You feeling okay?" said one of the twins on the other side of the door. You couldn’t tell which one spoke, their voices muffled by the physical barrier. You just stare, unsure what to say. They must know something was off. 

          “I’m fine,” you responded plainly. The twins were too keen on their senses to not know something was up. 

          “Boss said you must eat or drink something. What can we bring you?” You internally groan with their persistence. They told Sylus you refused dinner. You truly weren’t hungry though, so you said the first consumable item to pop in your head. 

          “Okay, can I have some wine?” You asked. There’s a pause behind the door and part of you wonders if you’ll be refused for the first time. 

          “Of course. We’ll send some up.” They don’t give you time to respond as you hear their footsteps walk away from the door. Wine sounded pretty good anyways, and maybe it’ll help ease the weight on your mind. Within mere minutes, a bottle of unopened wine appears in an ice bucket outside your door. It almost felt like room service, much to your amusement. 

            You’ll just take some personal time for yourself, relaxing. Self care. Although, unfortunately, you know you have all the time in the world for that. Considering Sylus’ never ending work, you had too much alone time. You shake off the anxious thoughts creeping back into your head before opening the wine bottle. It was a high quality red wine and you knew this was a good decision. 

            The taste warmed your throat the same way Sylus’ lips did against yours. You were thinking about him too much, and tonight you didn’t want that. You drink more, a little sloppy, but in your desolate state you could care less. You scoffed out loud, wondering when Sylus’ touch began to stick to you. Maybe you’ll take another bath, hoping to feel like a new blank state. The lack of substance in your stomach made you tipsy quick, but that was kinda the plan anyways. You ease off of the massive bed and head towards the open bathroom. The king-sized clawfoot bathtub was still in its original place as you last used it, just hours ago. With one hand preoccupied with a wine glass, the other fumbles with a knob, causing hot, steamy water to pour out. You lean against the marble counter, continuing to drink. You still thought of Sylus, and part of it scared you you were becoming too attached to him. Naturally, you didn’t have anything but him. He wanted that though, so what if you were attached? 

         Seeing the water was filled just enough, you decided to slip off your clothes and go inside the tub. As you pull your shirt over, your elbow ends up knocking against the wine glass. It fell over, shattering in the bathroom sink. The abrupt sound made you spin around in surprise, only to find the remnants of glass. Well, at least it’s all in one spot, you thought. You sigh, carefully taking the bigger shards out first. Before you stick your hand in again, something cold and hard stops your movement. You knew it was Sylus’ hand without looking at him. 

            “Always about to prick your finger when I’m around. Careful, sweetie, we wouldn’t want that.” You look at him in the mirror before you. You’d think he wouldn’t be visible, like the stories, but your mind was burning the image of his body powering over you. The way his eyes took in every detail of you and the way his hand easily wrapped around your delicate hand. This new pet name, sweetie, felt almost belittling. But there was something ravishing in his tone when he said it. 

           “Sorry…” You looked away from the reflection. You move out of his grasp with ease. 

           “You…are drinking?” Sylus cocks an eyebrow. He didn’t sound mad, but there was a genuine curiosity in his question. “Luke said you refused dinner. Are you feeling alright?” He said, sounding more flat. 

           You realized your chest and arms were casually exposed to him right now. You look at the steaming water, then back to Sylus. “I just wanted to relax today.” You hold your arm, feeling sheepish. He stares at you for a moment, deciding if you were truthful or not. 

           He closes the gap between you two. “Feeling modest aren’t you? A little late for that now, don’t you think kitten?” His body presses up against yours as he grabs the arm that was across your torso. He brings up your hand and places his lips on your knuckles. You flush instantly, his touch reminding you of the great pleasure he’s capable of. “Don’t hide yourself from me. I own you, I own everything about you.” His lips now graze against your wrist, his fangs hovering. You tense, preparing for anything. This doesn’t go unnoticed. He drops your hand back down. 

“Tell me what is wrong,” he demanded suddenly. His patience was thin tonight and you understood that you couldn’t hide your feelings, no matter how hard you tried.

“What will happen to me when you’re done with me?” The words proved difficult to speak, but once you said it you felt a little lighter. Sylus’ expression doesn’t change but you have to know the answer. You couldn’t spend the rest of your lonely time here just waiting in anxious anticipation.

“Done with you?” He repeats, sounding confused. “Whatever do you mean?” You could tell he knew exactly what you meant, and it was amusing for him to see you try and open up. It was frustrating, but there was no other way you would be able to get this done.

“You know! Done with me. Bored with me, a human. You know exactly what I mean,” you said, your tongue feeling sharp. Sylus stares at you, his expression blank and unreadable. It’s like those crimson eyes of his could see right through you. He positions himself in front of you, causing you to lean against the marble counter. There was barely any room left to breathe. 

“Bored of you?” He spoke softer now as the distance between you was nonexistent. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear gently before tracing his touch down your jaw. His hand holds your jaw in place, causing you to be unable to look away from him. “Don’t be so foolish. I told you before, you’re mine forever. It is going to be very entertaining.” He leans his head down, his breath barely caressing your ear. “You gave yourself to me. You’re in this for the long run, sweetie. I know you, now. I feel the way you tense up, the way your heartbeat quickens. How warm you get when I touch you like this.” He slides his hand away from your jaw, tracing down past your chest and just barely above your torso. His featherlight touch felt like pure electricity as it made its way down to your lower body. He grazes his long fingers against your inner thigh, causing you to hitch your breathing. 

Oh, how he was right. How he was right about everything. Even now, as he easily proved you wrong, you were turned on from his voice and his touch. Intoxicating as always. He presses a quick kiss against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With one fluid motion, he places both hands around your legs and hoists you up upon the bathroom counter. It was cool to the touch as your legs tried to adjust comfortably on the marble. Sylus now stood, his physical presence hovering over you as you sat. Opened, and exposed, for him. He radiated desire and you could tell it took effort to control himself. He was ready to devour you whole. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a low, husky tone. You wondered if he truly would, if you said no. Clearly, at this moment, that’s not what you wanted. It  made you blush when he asked permission. He could take you any time, any moment. You were at the mercy of his hands after all. You shake your head.

“No…” You murmured. Your body felt like fire as you sat against the cool marble. Sylus was pleased with your answer, continuing to roam his hands over you. He somehow managed to slip your bottoms off with ease, causing you to be mostly bare in front of him. He traces his fingers over the underwear you still wore, teasing. Testing you. You knew he could hear your heart hammer against your chest. He could feel the heat pooling in your most sensitive spot. 

“You are the most intoxicating, my dear.” He plants another kiss on your neck, onto your jaw, before placing his lips on yours. You melt into his kiss without hesitation. His praise, whether for you or for your blood, turned you on more. You wanted more– you wanted him. His heavy fingers touch softly over your underwear, making you twitch with anticipation. Without warning, he tears off your last remaining fabric as if it was nothing.

“Wh–!” 

“They were in the way,” he growled. He touches you directly now, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he continues. You hear him snicker as he feels you are already wet with desire. “Such a good, obedient pet,” he whispered, teasing your entrance. He eases a finger into you as his thumb rubs your clit. You lean forward, grabbing Sylus as if he was the only thing anchoring you in this world. You feel him place a hand behind your back, holding you against him. He kisses the top of your head as he begins to move his hand, slowly adding another finger. This all happened last night, but it felt like it was the first time all over again. You moan and whimper into his shoulder, feeling yourself unravel just from his hand. 

“Mmf— Oh…God.” You can’t stop the moans that slip past your lips. You wondered if he would bite again so soon. 

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. His hand never stopped. He looks down at your body against him, clutching onto his sleeves. 

“More,” you blurted. Little did you know what you were truly asking for. It might be too much, too overstimulating, but you were on a high of pleasure. You couldn’t stop here, now. Sylus smirks, his brows lifting at your confidence. He pulls his two fingers away from you, causing a whine of disapproval. He takes a step back, taking a good look at you. A wet mess, sitting on top of his counter. Unexpectedly, he picks you up from where you sat. With one arm, you are perched up against his body as if you were weightless. He strolls out of the bathroom and plops you down on his massive bed. Laying down, sprawled out for him, you realize this was going to be more than last night. A lot more. You swallow, trying to relax as you watch him unbutton his shirt. He doesn’t break eye contact, his red eyes burning into you, as he removes more clothes. 

Seeing his erection was all you needed to know. You can’t help but widen your eyes at the sheer size of it. There was no way all of that was going to fit. He notices your reaction and smirks with satisfaction.

“Worried?” He teased. If just his two fingers made you feel full, you couldn’t imagine anything more than that. 

“I—I’m not,” you stammered. You could feel yourself throb with pleasure and anticipation for what was about to come. You’ve only had a couple of boyfriends before this mess, and you nothing would compare in size against Sylus. He leans closer, fully hovering over you. He kisses you more, this time it’s hungry. He grabs you tighter as his tongue pries into your mouth. You return with the same energy, not wanting to falter back by any means necessary. Something dripped on your stomach, only for you to realize it was his precum. He wanted you badly and you wondered how he managed to have the patience left in him. 

“Relax,” he purred into your ear. You could feel your stomach tightened. This was going to be the point of no return. A very small part of you felt anxious. After all day stewing in your thoughts about Sylus, and your future, you laid here submissive for him. His touch and his praise was all you needed to melt away any thoughts. You felt like a blank canvas, waiting for him to paint you out. You suddenly feel something prodding at your entrance. You inhale, knowing it was the tip of his cock. By God, that alone, felt enough. “You can take it,” he reassured. Although, you truly didn’t know if you could. He teases you a bit more before cautiously pushing in. You grasp onto him tightly again, unable to hold anything else. He kisses the side of your face, you assumed this was for comfort. His brows were furrowed as his breathing became quicker. He was really trying to hold back.

“ ‘s not gonna fit,” you whined. You couldn’t tell precisely, but he was halfway in. You were already so full. Your clit throbbed with need, swollen with pleasure. He looked at you and your eyes, glazed over with lust. 

“Yes, it will,” he grunts, pushing in a bit further. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, before Sylus kisses them. You take a deep breath, trying to relax yourself again. He applies pressure on your clit again, the touch along with the pressure inside you makes you roll with pleasure. “You’re doing so well,” he praised. He exhales as he carefully slides out of you right before pushing back in. You felt everything, each minor movement causing you to moan lightly. It’ll be a miracle if you can walk after this. 

When Sylus realizes you can take all of him, he begins to move his hips more. You couldn’t stop staring at him, the image of his naked body over you burned into your mind. It’s like he was sculpted by the Gods, every part of him. He was…beautiful. It made you feel satisfied and delighted seeing him vulnerable like this. Your mind was drunk on pleasure, but in that moment you didn’t care if you were used for blood. He wanted you. Craved not just your blood, but your body too. 

His pace begins to pick up, each thrust sending you over the edge. You can’t help but moan for him, moan his name. You could tell he enjoyed every sound that came from you. He groaned back, never releasing the hold he had on you. You could feel your orgasm building with each movement, a sweet release you anticipated this whole time. 

“Ah! Mm…Sylus, please,” you begged, unsure what you were begging for exactly.You could feel yourself getting close, all this overstimulation making you feel drunk. He grabs your jaw, his pace never slowing down. 

“Speak,” he ordered. His breathing was uneven as his brows were still knitted together. His thrusts become heavier now, each one making you forget all the words in your mind. Your eyes roll back, taking every single bit of pleasure you could get. 

“Please,” you lowered your hand, lightly touching yourself. You were getting desperate now. “Mm…Ah, ‘m so close.” You were breathless. So full of him. You didn’t know what exactly you needed to come, but you were determined to find it. You didn’t care if he fed again, or whatever he wanted to do. None of it mattered anymore. His touch changed you completely. As your core tightened around him, you were bound to unravel against him any second. Sylus felt the shift in you. He grunted, grinding himself in you.

“So tight…” He hummed. “Come for me, darling.” He didn’t have to ask twice. He was practically slamming into you, all of him. You couldn’t speak anymore, all words lost to your vocal moans. If he kept this up, you were going to see stars. You grab him harder, your nails digging into him as an attempt to hold on. You were on the edge and it drove you insane. With the little strength you had left, you forcefully pulled Sylus down closer to you. It threw him off guard for a second, before realizing what you wanted. You fully exposed the side of your neck, beckoning him. You wanted him to bite you, because there was no greater pleasure than that. He doesn’t say a word before his teeth plunge into your soft skin. The bite was harsher this time, causing you to scream out. You reach your climax instantly, the release was like nothing you ever experienced before. Your mouth hangs open, unable to even make a sound as Sylus’ hips begin to slow against you. His mouth is still over your neck, his wet tongue lapping over the hot blood that oozes from the wound. 

As the rush begins to leave your body, you feel extremely lightheaded. Black spots form in the corner of your vision. This isn’t good, you thought to yourself. You were too weak, too exhausted to say anything. Let alone push Sylus off of you. You attempt to make a noise, the black spots never fading. You feel Sylus lift himself up, the room spinning in your vision. You hear Sylus say something, but it’s muffled as you slowly lose consciousness. Without control, you feel your eyes roll back into your head. 

Your body becomes numb, before you are dragged back into the darkness.

[glader13]

Chasing Memories of You pt. 3

Miguel x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

“Lyla,” his voice slurred, “Play file zero.”

Lyla came to life, her frown deep as she saw Miguel surrounded by bottles. His eyes were hazy and drunken as he held a picture frame of you. Lyla wanted to say something but she knew that any word would spark an argument, with Miguel thinking that Lyla is trying to make him forget you. She pulled up file zero, which is multiple files of you and Miguel getting to know each other. They’re scattered, but each file shows a deeper connection between you two.

The first file begins to play and Miguel instantly recognizes your New York, seeing you fly in your black suit, the spider symbol in gold flashing in the sun. Your mentee, Gwen, was flying next to you in a red and black suit. It was here when he met you, answering the call of an anomaly in your universe. He viewed another one, instantly knowing which memory this was. You stormed into the medical area, to where Miguel was resting, insisting that he was acting reckless trying to save you, that he wasn’t thinking about his daughter, who needed him to be around. The argument was cut short when he pulled you into him, kissing you for the first time, breathing that he also needed you around.

Goosebumps then, but nothing now. He watched these files so many times, that all that they had created was a hole, numbing him. Taunting him of a reality that he’ll never have. As he drunkenly scrolled through the files, he came across one labeled as surprise. Even in his hazy mindset, he knew that he had never seen this before. He opened the file seeing more videos of you. He clicked on the first one, holding his breath as he saw you appear in front of him. He sat up, his mind gaining the clarity that it desperately searched for.

“Miggy, wait,” you mumble, pushing his mouth away, “I think I’m going to puke.”

He instantly got up, before walking you to the bathroom, asking you what you ate earlier. You told him the same as usual, but for the past few weeks, you’ve been avoiding greasy food, and eating more salads and bowl-type foods. Anything that you ate could set off your nausea, but at the same time, you wanted to eat everything.

“This has been happening a lot back to back recently,” Miguel said from the other side of the door, “It’s probably something that you’re eating.”

“Maybe the food in 2099 is made so poorly that if you aren’t used to it, it makes you sick,” you joked.

“Like your poisoned food is any better,” he said which caused you both to snicker.

You finally came out of the bathroom, telling him that you still felt the same. He kissed your forehead, asking if you wanted to sit on his balcony. You snuggled further into his hoodie as the two of you looked over Nueva York, the sounds of the city were peacefully quiet, as if a hush went through, and the neon hues washed you in warmth. You snuggled closer to Miguel, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you further into his side. He softly kissed the side of your face, before trailing down to your neck. You could feel the worry fall off him and onto you. In between the kisses, you felt him stare as if he could see what was ailing you. He’s on eggshells, the funeral was just only months ago, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He frets over you about anything, trying to control every aspect to mitigate any possible consequences.

“I think you should see a doctor,” he says softly, “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am,” you kissed him, “But what if it’s not anything serious?”

“Then what would it be?” His question was fragile, threatening to break under a possible reality. You stayed quiet, not wanting to voice that possibility, especially when he was still trying to heal.

“Nothing, I’m fine Miggy,” you smiled, “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

He should’ve known then, he should have picked up on the signs: the nausea, the pickiness of your appetite, the slight plumpness of your body. If he had known, if he wasn’t blinded by grief, he could have protected you, the both of you. He would have put you on fewer missions, and made you do more lab work, hell he would have taken your watch away so you wouldn’t be hurt by an anomaly. He saw another file, his hand moving faster than his mind, as he clicked the file. Watching memories of you compares to a dark paradise, filling him with poison that he knows stops him from healing.

“Lyla,” she appeared next to you in Miguel’s bathroom, “where’s Miguel?”

“At HQ,” she said, “Want me to get him?”

Your eyes widened as you quickly said no, your hand clutching around something that Lyla couldn’t make out. She appeared closer to your hand to see, but you moved whatever it was to your chest. You let the toilet cover down, sitting on it, hunched over, quiet. You tapped your foot on the ground, your mind a mess while your mouth was unemployed. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, the reality threatening to make your lunch come up. Two months, the funeral was two months ago and you’re … You shook your head, ignoring Lyla’s words about your heart rate. You softly rocked back and forth, before getting up and pacing around his bathroom. One hand still clutching the small, but very significant change of your life, as you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t catch your reflection in the mirror, not feeling brave enough to do so. You tasted the salt from your tears, as you slid to the floor, what if he hates you, resents you for a mutual, intimate action? What if he makes you get rid of it, makes you choose? What will happen then?

“How accurate are your tests?” You shakily breathed.

“What tests?” And with her question, you reveal the pregnancy test. Her quiet was deafening, sinking you further before she answered that it was accurate, the most it’s ever been. But to ease your worry, she did a bioscan of you, confirming that you are pregnant.

“Well,” she began slowly, “Congratulations, but how did this happen?” You shot her a look, which caused her to sigh, “I know how, but when?”

“It was when,” you began to search through your memories, peeling back the layers of your brain, to the moment when the two of you were alone, “I don’t know Lyla, I don’t know what to do, the one person that I need, I can’t tell.”

You cleaned your eyes, thinking of what to say to Miguel, imagining how he would react. Would you have to leave him, be alone with your child? Your mind could only imagine Miguel’s face twisted in disappointment, or even anger. He’s going to hate me, was the only thing that you could think despite your heart trying to tell you otherwise. You felt as if you were in a headlock, not knowing if you should go or trust Miguel.

“You are going to have to,” Lyla said, “You’re going to start showing.”

“I… I know, but Lyla, you can't tell him,” you cleaned your eyes, “Please.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

You finally felt some comfort in the silence before you spoke again, “Do you think I should surprise him, with dinner, or a party?”

“Party,” Lyla smiled, “And we can get a confetti gun filled with pink or blue confetti.”

You nodded, cautiously smiling, your mind filling with the possibilities of a new future. Finally, everything felt like it’ll be okay. A new beginning for you both.

Miguel turned it off, unable to look at your face, unable to bear looking at the hesitation on your face about telling him about your pregnancy. It’s unbearable with you being gone. He took another swig of his bottle, feeling another memory from his mind appear, rolling slowly like thunder approaching a city. He was able to figure the rest out, how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy, a surprise party. But that day will be forever stained with your blood, the loss of his second family. That day, that memory, always bubbles up, it can never be defeated by the alcohol, by how many villains he beats into a pulp, by each thought of seeking another just so his bed won’t be empty. It’s always there, chained to him. He can never seem to forget.

He stood at the door to your apartment, taking a shaky breath. He’s going here to think. To think of how to tell your family that you’re dead, that he failed to protect you. He leans his head against the door, trying to collect his breathing as more tears fall from broken eyes. He didn’t bother to clean his eyes or nose, which made everything hurt all the more. He was startled by pink and blue confetti, and voices yelling “congratulations”! Miguel took a step, looking around as he felt the urge to vomit. In silence, he took note of the various baby decorations, pink and blue streamers hanging from the ceiling and on the wall. The table had small sandwiches and chips with the dessert being small pink and blue cupcakes. He saw lettering decorating the wall, condadulations, Miggy!

The smiling faces were choking him, closing in on him. He felt his breathing become shallow and shorter as if he was exhaling every time he inhaled. He leaned against the door, struggling to look at faces, especially your parents, he couldn’t tell them that he failed his promise.

“Where’s my daughter?” your mother laughed, she was holding a cake, “She was supposed to come with you.”

Miguel began to take large breaths, as he couldn’t stop his tears, the inky hands of grief pulling him down. He sunk to the floor, holding himself feeling a sick realization that this was how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy. At a party, not in his arms, dying. He painfully tore his eyes away from the ground looking at your mother, and he was drowning again, this is how you would’ve looked, aging with beautiful and graceful features. She knelt in front of him, telling him to breathe, as he was barely aware of her cleaning his eyes with a napkin. He pushes her hand away, he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, not after ruining her life forever, “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I … I failed her. I’m sorry,” he repeats, holding your mother.

“Miguel,” your mother’s voice is still kind, though there was a worried edge in it, “Miguel, breathe okay. Whatever argument you two got in will work itself out, it’s just her pregnancy.”

Oh, he wishes it was an argument. That means that he’ll be able to have you back in a matter of moments, he’ll argue with you about anything if that means he’ll be able to hold you again. She said to relax again, telling him to breathe, and he finally gave in to the despair, “She’s dead. She … died in my arms. There was an attack … I couldn’t save her in time.”

Your mother’s face paled, all the light, all the life, drained from her face. Her body slouched, the only sound was the plastic plate hitting the floor. Miguel couldn’t say anything, but how could he? Who would want to be comforted by their child’s murderer? Your father filled the silence, stepping past his wife and pulling Miguel up by his shoulder. Your father’s face was the opposite, lit with a fury that can only be caused by grief. Miguel forced his eyes to stay on his face, as your father demanded what happened. As he demanded to know why he let you die. Your father repeated the same questions, each time getting closer and closer to Miguel. Miguel felt as if he was set on fire, feeling nothing but hopelessness. Nothing else mattered, all was obsolete. Your father repeated the same question, but to Miguel, it sounded distant, as if someone was yelling at him behind thick walls. Even if he heard the question, he couldn't care less, your father isn’t the only one who’s grieving. The world was spinning, yet shattering around Miguel, he was lost in a haze. The last kiss that you gave him, your lifeless body, crushed him. Two people died when you permanently closed your eyes, you and the man who he thought he could be. He was right there, on the edges of his fingertips. Ready to be everything that you wanted, that you needed. But your death makes being dead alluring. You made death look like mercy, a dark paradise.

Miguel’s focus on you was shattered when your father’s fist connected with his face. The shock caused him to fall over, his hand covered in red from his nose. Your father shook off your mother as he stepped over Miguel. “You should have stayed away from her,” your father sneered, “Then she would still be here. You should have taken her place. She should be here in front of us, not you.”

“You don’t think that I agree with you,” was all Miguel said.

Miguel and Gwen stayed outside the medical room as your parents grieved over you privately. He couldn’t do anything, he wanted this day to be over, he wanted to go back in time and correct this mistake. He wanted to be the hero that you always thought he was. But you were the hero, always saving him, and he hates you for it. If you didn’t save him, then you would be here, and that’s all that would matter to Miguel. When his memory fails him, will your love abide? Looking at you, he knows that he’ll love you for a long time. If his mind fails to remember, his body and his heart will remember.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Gwen asks him, her eyes begging for a sliver of hope, “Are we going to be okay?”

Miguel blinks away some more tears before he looks at her, and he breaks. She seems so small, holding herself against the wall. Her small, huddled frame reminded him of Gabi when she was upset. He would kneel in front of her, clean her eyes, and tell her that everything was okay. He found himself doing the same thing, slipping so easily into father mode. It wasn’t hard for him, as your mentee, Miguel and you were her second set of parents. Going to school events and even covering as her guardians so her parents won’t know about her slipping grades or missed classes.

“Hey,” he said, cleaning her eyes, “We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get through this together,” he hugged her, “I promise.”

Just as he did with Gabi, to make her less upset, he would lie. He kissed the top of her head, repeating another lie of comfort as he focused on your dead body. He wanted to say I don’t know if we’ll be okay, at least he knows that he’ll never be. Without you, the darkness eats him, he’s not himself, and he won’t be ever again. He’ll love you for a long time, he’ll miss you for a long time. A wound that he’ll never heal from.

And now, he’s forced to watch videos, these memories of you that he’s slowly tainting with the desperation of guilt. He can’t let go, and he won’t let go. He knows that you would want him to, but he won’t. He’s in a daze, and he needs you, but you’re so far away. Across a sea that he can’t cross … unless. In his room, the soft beeping of his watch caught his attention, he stared at it feeling something be planted. Thinking of all that it could do, thinking that it was how he met you. He thought of HQ, of all the Spiders there, how they all traveled by that watch. Would it be possible … if there are Spiders from different Earths, then … He got up, opening a portal to HQ. He can end this, end this feeling of being alone. He’ll have a chance to go home. To be closer to love.

He realized that he was only someone with you. That only you loved him naturally, and he needs you, he has always needed you. This time, he won’t leave you alone, you’re his sun and stars, the air that he breathes. He’ll never leave you alone again. On his screen, he ran multiple tests, screening each Earth for your DNA, and bio-scans, essentially screening for you. He was in a headlock, trapped by you. He thought that he was better than this, but grief, no desperation was stronger. Desperation to protect, to bring back something that has been lost. Miguel finally felt something break, no, not break, he felt something resolve, grow stronger.

He will have you in his arms again, he can start again. He will start again.

The screen started beeping, indicating a match. He zoomed in on that Earth, moving past the people, his eyes quickly moving over the faces of strangers. He did another scan, this time to pinpoint where you were, which was a TV studio. Miguel felt his heart in his lungs, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see you in real time. He opened your location, and his breath was gone. He was gone, he fell to his knees, silent tears on his face, it felt like ages since he last looked upon your face. You were beauty beyond words, a force in the room. You were a goddess, dressed fittingly in white. He closed his eyes as he listened to you talk during your interview. He felt it all ending, his senseless grief, the hole in his heart was closing the more that he listened, swaying to your words as he was drunk.

He felt as if he was in church, on his knees in reverence and you were who he was praying to. When you would look into the camera, he felt your eyes, he felt your soul, and it was warm, feeling like home. He reached out, aiming to touch your face, only for his hand to go through the projection, your image briefly flickering. A bitter reminder of reality. At least he won’t be chasing memories of you anymore, closer to love, he found you again. And, in time, he’ll do more than monitor you as if you were a machine. He’ll join you, he won’t leave you alone anymore. That sea that separated the two of you disappeared.

“I’m coming home, my love,” he whispered to the projection, he whispered to you.

A/N: Writer’s block has me in a mf chokehold, I fear. Also, do people still read Miguel O’Hara fics???

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here)| Chapter Ten(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[electronix-arts]

2 mainly becausei think if you knew latin you’d send me random words in latin in my asks

1. the first time i tried to cook something i got food poisoning

2. once i had a nosebleed so bad 911 had to be called

3. i almost got frostbite because i wanted to play at the park before school in 30 degree weather

hi guys reblog game (/nf)

put 2 truths and a lie and guess prev's lie 👍

I'll go first:

i have never skipped any classes

i ate a whole leaf before, specifically a maple leaf

i almost burnt down the house once

[pockykierra]

Spent the night so sick and laying in the bathroom, so I'm a little tired. BUT I literally just remembered that for some reason while I was curled up on the floor, sweating profusely and shaking, all I could think of was that one Disney channel show Wendy Wu Homecoming Warrior. I don't remember what I thought about it, I just remember that for like 30 minutes straight It was at the forefront of my mind LMAO

[sergle]

people being dramatic about "american cheese" (in quotes bc americans didn't make it) is one of my favorite topics because it's funny to see people talk about it like it's a biohazardous waste when it's literally just Cheddar That Has Been Watered Down With Milk, And Then Emulsified

[haliaiii]

I'm thinking I should reread dungeon meshi because I feel like I would've connected with it way better had I not decided to read the whole thing lying sick in bed from food poisoning 💀

[fallloverfic]

I am legitimately confused by repeated comments that ORV's opening is slow or boring or uninteresting, especially people who say you need to read [insert some very large number of pages/chapters] to get to the "good" parts. I've seen this on multiple socials at this point and I originally wrote this post months ago, but recent potential news has brought back people saying this again, particularly in recommending it to other people/trying to get other people into it.

I would personally argue that ORV has a good opening. A very good opening. And the early part of it is very good, too.

ORV opens with a literal train of angst, attempted friendship, workplace harassment (Sangah getting harassed by her boss), some neat Korean folklore (dokkaebis hello), graphic violence (remember when Bihyung just kills the president on TV?), a group of people in a subway attempting to beat an old woman to death, Dokja winning a pissing contest with a teenage edgelord, a bunch of people getting murdered, bonding in times in despair over a really unique form of problem solving, a man breaking open subway doors with his bare arms, young love, and magic, fleeing onto a bridge that gets exploded to bits by an evil gremlin, a horde of zombies appearing, the protagonist getting new magic powers, and then his getting held by the neck over said broken bridge in a complex back and forth with the "true" story protagonist before getting dropped into the mouth of a giant sea monster.

It covers topics like the limits of human compassion in times of strife, the complicated presence of the military (Dokja hated his time being drafted v Hyunsung's military leadership doesn't save anyone), international relations (Sangah is learning Spanish), trope subversion (I mean it is and isn't the entire book and Dokja's character, but he's constantly trying to be 5-10 steps ahead of what's going on, including literally fleeing Joonghyuk until Joonghyuk grabs him by the collar), workplace harassment, bullying, and it's all taking place during multiple apocalypse scenarios.

This is the like first 11 chapters of the book. And it never stops. There are "slower" moments, moments where characters take a breather (like it takes a while for Dokja to negotiate his contract with Bihyung, which is slow if you ignore the fact Dokja is arguing with an interdimensional being/alien for the limits of his own life and autonomy in the most dangerous streaming event imaginable, knowing he may still die if he gambles wrong on his personal wikipedia brain), but it's still frequently confrontational, whether that confrontation is about what characters mean to each other, what lives are at stake, finding your purpose in life, adaptability to complex circumstances, overcoming trauma and self-doubt...

And it's more intense in a way in the manhwa adaptation because you can clearly see most of it visualized (e.g., how visually wrecked the characters get, how young the kids are, how terrifying the monsters are, how scary the odds are, and how dangerous Dokja's gambles can really get with a fickle streaming audience), and Sleepy-C's art is gorgeous.

I just have to wonder (though this is more of a rhetorical question), what on earth do people consider fast? Because I am quite honestly terrified of what the answer is.

Like I get that ORV is long. It can be hard to recommend very long books to folks (and as the manhwa keeps going, long comics). To each their own, everyone is different, what appeals to me won't appeal to others. But there's a difference between "it's hard to recommend a very long work to someone" and "it's hard to recommend something that's long and takes a while to get into", and maybe folks are just writing the former a bit weirdly. I completely understand having trouble recommending long series to people. Also ORV has a very complex plot and I don't blame folks having trouble recommending that. I'm writing fic for later parts of orv and other manhwa and I dread explaining all the context for all that to someone who hasn't read them.

That being said, ORV has a very good introduction. Both chapter 1 of the novel and episode 1 of the manhwa are very good. They're not perfect, I can't say I was hooked from the immediate moment I started reading the page, but both of them have good introductions and it doesn't stop, and there's stuff to love in just about every chapter/episode, and I was definitely hooked enough by the time I finished to keep going to chapter/episode 2. Chapter 1 of the novel has great angst and character building, and it's funny and sweet and tragic. When I first read Dokja trying, earnestly, to recommend TWSA and getting harassed about it and worrying it will hurt this art and artist he cares about, but not being able to do much else to give thanks for this experience because of his circumstances, I cried. The first page/episode of the manhwa has them delicious boys love vibes and gorgeous art (and cute baby Dokja, I die for him), and the promise of a fascinating story ahead, and then the following page/episode has more gorgeous art and angst and great characters (combining them cause the first page feels sort of more like a teaser than a first page, though Episode 0 ends with a spread of Kimcom that makes me tear up). We'll unfortunately never know if I'd have loved ORV as much if I'd read the novel first, but I like to think I would cause ORV's opening is just that good.

I just truly, truly do not understand the sentiment that idk the opening and the first [insert large number of pages/chapters] aren't good or interesting or engaging enough. Maybe I'm out of touch. To each their own on what appeals, maybe I'm built different (doubt it though) but it just feels kind of dismissive of ORV's opening, in both the novel and the manhwa, which are both really good. Will it win over everyone? No. It's fine if you weren't grabbed by the opening or the first [insert however many pages/chapters/arcs]. It's fine if you took a while, even a long while to get into it, or never really did, and maybe don't like the manhwa, which is a great gateway into the story, or don't like the novel for whatever reason and prefer the manhwa. And at the end of the day it's just random opinions online, we all have different ones. Make the posts that appeal to you on your blog, complain on your socmed, whatever. But the opening is good, it keeps you very engaged with a lot of difficult scenarios, the characters are great and fun and funny, in those parts especially, and idk why I'm supposed to pretend that's not the case.

Anyway I don't like writing complaint posts. The opening and general start are excellent and Imma go back and cry over Dokja again ty singNsong for my tears.

[kangaracha]

queenmaker should be coming in the next few days, depending on whether i have bad hayfever or a cold today - this is supposed to be my holiday week, so i would expect that i am actually sick, but then also i've passed out for every hour i haven't been at work today so i'm both caught up and screwed up on sleep ready for my half days 😭😂

[piplupod]

mother: "theres this great job where you'd be on-call to come in!"

me: "ahhh i don't really want to be on-call, that would stress me out a lot because I'd always be on edge,,"

mother: "no you wouldn't, you could make it your thing!"

me: "...my thing?"

mother: "being on call! it'd be great! :)"

me: "i would probably be crying like... a lot ahaha. because I would always be on edge never knowing when to expect having to go into work, yknow?"

mother: "nooo, you could just make it a thing!"

me: "sorry, what do you mean by thing?"

AND I NEVER FOUND OUT !!

[somecunttookmyurl]

i gotta get off tumblr and work on my (various) (overdue) (behind) (many) (closet is full of yarn) commissions so if you see me (behind) (procrastinating) on here in the next like 3 hours yell at me

[neonjazzparty]

Finally updated my Meet the Artist

Fun fact: I am not a person but a concept

[calamitys-child]

Unstoppable force (I wanna make a ttrpg campaign I wanna make it so bad it would be so cool) vs immovable object (any time I see a rulebook or a form of literally any kind it makes me hiss and spit and have a furious panic attack and never touch it ever again)

[the-broken-pen]

I suffered a mental break after writing like eighteen college essays and wrote the newest one about a bagel and I just call it college essay bagel and it haunts me but like objectively it’s funny because it’s about a bagel you know? And my English teacher is gonna throw a book at my head when she finally reads it

[here-there-were-dragons]

every time i think the "staff can do no wrong and any form of complaining or expressing literally anything other than "yaaay love it <3" with no further comments is bashing and literally evil we should never say anything that could even potentially be interpreted as mildly critical ever because ~some artist who worked hard on this is probably reading the forums and might feel bad if we ever express anything but praise~ also we must be constantly positive at all times unless we're passive-aggressively shaming someone for having an extremely polite and apologetically worded criticism and if you ask the staff for literally anything you had better be prepared to preface it with 3 paragraphs of apologizing for breathing air" attitude is bad on tumblr, i take one look at the forums, and holy fucking hell is it SO much worse on site