#I’m Exited for more opportunities to feel alive

[a-myriad-of-stars]

In 50 years, I’m not going to look at the wrinkles around my eyes, and think “damn, I should have smiled less”. I’m going to think about all the things that MADE me smile.

In 50 years, I’m not going to look at my freckles and think, “damn, I shouldn’t have been in the sun so much” (unless I have skin cancer). Im going to think of beautiful sunny days I spent with people I love, and how my eventual partner will love to kiss every freckle they see at any given opportunity.

In 50 years, I’m not going to look at the creases around my lips and think, “damn, I shouldn’t have used a straw”. Im going to think of milkshakes with my dad, and kisses on cheeks, and Thai tea with my best friend and Pho with my sister, and all the slurping, sipping, kissing things that brought me joy in my life.

Sure, I take care of my skin, but i don’t fear becoming grey and wizened. The folds, creases, and wrinkles I gain won’t remind me of how I’ll die.

They’ll remind me of how I lived.

“Straws give you wrinkles” “sunlight gives you age spots” “smiling with your eyes gives you laugh lines” okay but what if I did that. What if I drank Vanilla Coke from a bendy straw and danced in the sunlight and laughed with reckless abandon. What then. We all age we all get wrinkles we all grow old and dammit I will do it with the sun on my face and the joy of life at my back

[lqveharrington]

Fake-Love | C.S.

summary: a boy was bothering you, so you and Coriolanus take it into your own hands.

pairing: university!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: a very unstable, toxic relationship between the two, (arranged marriage), making out, comments toward the reader’s body, implied sex (it isn’t written), mentions of murder

a/n: soooo, as i write for the Silver Roses & Fallen Snow series, i decided to write a billion one-shot for our favorite blond to keep the era for him alive so i can finish my series 🫡. also, the uniforms are based of the gilmore girls’ one, since they are in university now and not academy.

The arranged marriage between the Snows and the Edevanes were always doomed to happen. You were born the same year as Coriolanus, and your families were already close with each other.

It was just, you and Coriolanus despised one another.

The feeling was 100% mutual. The reasoning for such a feud was due to the never ending fight for the brightest student in the Capitol. During your years in Academy, it was a tie in every class. Of course, your hatred for one another was more tame.

It only really changed when Coriolanus came back from serving the Districts as a peacekeeper. There was something about his demeanor that was much different, plus the way he was built could have made you weak in the knees.

He joined University a little after it had started for your class, but that didn’t stop him from becoming the best. You were currently the top of your class in University, but that changed when he joined under Dr. Gaul. His jabs to your reputation were much stronger than in Academy. He would make comments about you when walking down the hall behind you, making sure you understood that he would do whatever it took to be back on top.

So, when your parents dropped the bomb on you that you were to be engaged to Coriolanus as soon as possible, your blood boiled at the male. You could not believe he stooped that low to get back at you.

And about a few weeks after the initial announcement, you and Coriolanus officially got engaged, becoming the sudden talk of the Capitol.

“How did you keep your dating life such a huge secret?” A reporter stuck their microphone up to your face as you and Coriolanus exited a car together.

“Well, we were just so love struck with one another that we didn’t want others to know.” Coriolanus smiled, answering the question for you.

His arm was looped around yours as you were guided into the University, answering all the questions being asked of you both. The moment you stepped inside the school grounds you let go of the male, dusting off your uniform’s plaid skirt.

“What time do your classes end?” He muttered toward you, adjusting his own uniform.

“I have study hall all day, I’ll be done whenever you are.” You state as you head for the library, ignoring the icy stare your fiancé was giving you.

Since Coriolanus studied under Dr. Gaul, you knew you would have to stay a lot longer in the University’s library than usual, but you did not necessarily care. You had textbook assignments due, and it was an opportunity to get everything done.

That was the goal until a first year at the University started bothering you.

“I told you, I’m busy.” You stand from your seat, furrowing your brows at the young male. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a book for my psychology lessons.”

“Aw, don’t be lame.” He inched toward you, grabbing your wrist. “Why don’t we have our own fun instead? I’m sure you’re just as beautiful underneath your skirt.”

Your eyes harden at his words and mess with your engagement ring, “You‘ll have to excuse me, I have to be somewhere.”

Swiftly, you weave through the different shelves full of books. You swore under your breath when you hear the footsteps of the male behind you, sharply turning into a more secluded space. To your surprise, you found Coriolanus pulling books from the Hunger Games previous years.

“What are you doing in here?” You question, quickly moving around to his left. “I thought Dr. Gaul needed you today?”

“She wanted me to understand the history of the previous games to help with the programming and DNA of new animals.” He mumbled, looking through a thick book from the first Hunger Games. “What are you doing?”

“This guy was hitting on me.” You shrug, meeting Coriolanus’ darkened eyes. “What?”

“What guy?” He placed the books down on a cart, grabbing your chin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I don’t know his name, but he’s a first year here. Why do you care so much?”

“Because, gorgeous, you’re my fiancée. Any guy who even looks your way that isn’t me is dead.” He backed you into the shelf, hand still tight on your chin. “Did he saying anything or touch you?”

“Yes.” You whisper, gaze dropping to his lips before back up to his darkened blue eyes. “He grabbed my wrist and said that ‘I’m probably just as beautiful underneath my skirt’.”

Coriolanus took his other hand and firmly placed it on your hip, eyes wandering your face. “I’ll kill him.”

You turn your head to the side as you heard footsteps nearing before Coriolanus slammed his lips onto yours, pulling your body close to his. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss without a care in the world.

“Mm, Coryo—“ You part, feeling your skirt hike up. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles, shutting you up with a harder kiss, slipping his tongue through your parted mouth.

Coriolanus changes his hold on you, both hands now on your waist. You shift your hips, earning a quiet groan from the male. He retaliates by tracing a hand up to your throat, slightly squeezing it which earned a moan coming from you.

“Oh, so you’re just a whore.” The male scoffed from the front of the aisle, looking at the couple.

“Kill him?” You ask between kisses, tugging at his tie. Truly, you didn’t know he would take that request to heart as the male soon was deemed missing a day later. But for now, you were caught up in the heat.

Coriolanus grins, leaving one last kiss to your swollen lips. “He talks to my soon to be wife like that, it’ll be worse than a quick kill.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[fairy-writes]

REAL OR NOT REAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Trigun Stampede

Pairing(s): Vash the Stampede x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Reader is Short, Use of Various Nicknames (smalls)

Notes: I’m also taking this concept from The Hunger Games.

PART ONE HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

After three months, your memories of Vash still haven’t come back.

You ended up visiting the doctor who had discharged you, and he reassured you that they’d likely come back in time.

But you were impatient, and Vash was losing hope that you’d ever get your memories back. That much was obvious. He put on a show that he was fine, but you had the feeling he did that so as to not worry anyone.

He was succeeding in anything but that.

Nicholas noticed. 

Meryl noticed.

Roberto noticed. 

Hell, even you noticed!

So, Meryl came up with a game of sorts. She knew about your strange dreams and the odd flashes of déjà vu you’d get around certain things. Thus, the game “real or not real” was born. It was simple, if not a bit dumb, but it allowed you to voice your thoughts and feelings better than before, so you put up with it. You’d ask a question, like if you had been somewhere before, and then ask, “real or not real?”

More often than not, it was real to some degree. 

Vash came alive at the chance to talk about your previous memories. A small smile played at his lips when he spoke about your adventures. The shenanigans you’d get into. Some of it was before you met Meryl, Nicholas, and Roberto. But you found your heart thundering when he grew near. Your palms grew sweaty, even more so than in the desert sun. You liked it best when he would answer your questions. 

Was this what it was like falling in love with Vash?

“You’re killin’ me, smalls! Just get out!” Nicholas complained as you paused in getting out of the van. Meryl had stopped for a bathroom break in a small town, one you didn’t know the name of. 

“We’ve been here before, real or not real?” You ignored him in favor of asking as a wave of déjà vu washed over you. 

Soft sunsets. 

A declaration of love.

A gentle kiss. 

“Real, though you might want to get out of the van before Wolfwoof gets upset,” Vash said good-naturedly as he clambered out behind you. Now that you were slowly grasping at your fleeting memories, you were more comfortable sitting beside Vash. So, you’d all end up alternating who sat where just to give the middleman a break. Nicholas spills out with a few choice words in your direction, but you pay him no mind. Instead, your eyes are locked on a small tavern just on the edge of the town. 

“You took me there once before, real or not real?” You whisper to Vash, who chuckles and rubs at his undercut, 

“Real,” He says cryptically, not elaborating like he usually does. You frown and look up at him, but he avoids your gaze. 

What was up with him?

After a few minutes, Meryl exits the tavern, having relieved herself and ready to return to the desert road. 

“Actually… Meryl, would you be okay if we stopped here for the night?” You ask hesitantly, and when she stops, you elaborate, “I feel like I have missing memories here.”

At that, she readily agrees, much to the chagrin of Nicholas and Roberto. 

You were supposedly on a time crunch to make it to July, where a man named Millions Knives would be waiting. 

But you weren’t about to pass up on this opportunity, so you wander. Some faces are familiar, some aren’t, but something about this place makes you feel warm and fuzzy. You pass an alleyway where you swear there's the ghost of fingertips at your hips and a mouth on yours. 

But nothing comes of it, so you move on. 

Only to realize you’re being followed. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things—a flash of red fabric here, a smidgeon of blond hair there—but you aren’t stupid. You pick up on what’s happening rather quickly. Ducking down the very alleyway you had passed before, you ignore the phantom brushes of gentle caresses in favor of waiting. 

And when Vash passes by the alley, your hand darts out as quick as a whip and snags his jacket. He yelps as you pull him into the shadows with you. 

He’s close, blue eyes wide behind his glasses and lips parted in shock as he nearly falls into you. He barely manages to catch himself with his hands. 

“You’re following me. Real or not real?” You tease and see a pretty pink flush color his cheeks. He laughs awkwardly, 

“Alright, you caught me.” You grin,

“Well, you weren’t exactly being subtle about it. That coat of yours is hard to miss.” You say and release his coat. 

But he doesn’t move.

Your heart skips a beat as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you hung the moons in the sky. You remember the feelings you had when you passed this alleyway and got into this town. 

Soft sunsets. 

A declaration of love.

A gentle kiss. 

“You told me you loved me here. Real or not real?” You whisper and see his eyes light up. 

“You remember?” He whispers back, just as softly, if not more so. All you hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Vash is impossibly close, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze as he searches your eyes for any hint of a lie. 

But you wouldn’t lie. 

Not to Vash.

“I’m starting to.” You say, stretching up on your tiptoes to kiss him. You gently hold his face as he starts in surprise. It takes all but a split second for him to respond, and he’s desperately kissing you back like when you first woke up. 

The only difference is this time, you don’t pull away. 

[oatmealzz]

Firstly so sorry for the graphic image. I found this on the Danganronpa reddit. Also MAJOR DANGANRONPA V3 SPOILERS.

I feel like this very crudely drawn image of Kokichi’s dead crushed up corpse is the last piece I needed to fully accept his death.

Not being able to see the state of the body during the investigation, created a barrier for me to fully understand Kokichi’s exit out of the main story. It just felt like he “left” rather than died.

Additionally, none of the characters saw the dead body and that definitely had an impact on their attitude towards him. His death was brushed off because they also never got to see his dead body. Maki didn’t investigate the body and such. There was no opportunity to be traumatized but ample to refuel their hatred towards him. Remember when Nagito’s body was found? The characters wouldn’t stop talking about the stab wound and the spear. The graphic depictions of Nagito stabbing himself added to the nightmare fuel situation. Like SOMEONE did that to his body vibe. In this trial, that wasn’t discussed in a manner that resembled 2-5. Not being able to see the graphic nature of a body being crushed flat means the characters can avoid it. Again, put yourself in the situation you felt when you initially saw Kokichi’s death. Seeing his crushed body would absolutely impact your experience because it’s like DANG, WHO DID THIS?! Did he really deserve a death like that? And so on.

This is why his absence during the class trial wasn’t discussed to its extent such as with other characters. Imagine seeing the body and then going to the trial where the exisal was talking in his voice. It would be SUPER weird. LIKE I SAW HIS CRUSHED BONES AND ORGANS OUT ON THAT PRESS AND NOW IM HEARING HIS VOICE? I know for some people, not seeing the body meant that maybe both Kaito and Kokichi were alive and that they used another body to substitute a killing. After Monokuma revealed that it wasn’t possible to do so, I don’t remember anyone who acknowledged the body afterwards due to how the trial was going.

I’m no Kokichi Stan but I did warm up to his character pre-chapter 4. I always felt that his death and trial were lackluster and lacked needed impact. Personally, I thought the trial wasn’t very good but seeing a depiction of the body has changed my opinion on the trial.

Kaito also never saw Kokichi afterwards because he never lifted the press after it crushed him. Kaito doesn’t really have to carry the weight of the plan and his actions, because he never gets to see the honest result of them. Therefore, he was able to focus on the plan to foul Monokuma and stick to the script that a dead boy wrote. Personally, my entire view on Kaito would drastically change more if we both saw the state of the body. Like learning that Kaito killed Kokichi in the most violent way possible. This is no stab to the neck or strangulation where a character might crack a joke (throwback to Ryoma, Miu and even Nagito). I remember thinking that their plan failed because the gang ended up figuring out their scheme and there is a viewpoint that Kokichi’s plan failed. If it did, he died for nothing and in the most violently unnecessarily way possible too.

Danganronpa V3 had many victims where the remaining cast had a short mourning period for (Rantaro, Ryoma and Miu). Each student had different circumstances where the cast couldn’t comment too much on their dead peers. Rantaro distanced himself from others, and no one was particular close to Ryoma or Miu.

However, Kokichi was one where almost no one mourned his death.

It’s interesting for sure. I think more people mourned the losses of the culprits more than the victims.

Anyways - I recommend reviewing 3-5 again and seeing this image somewhere during the investigation. I promise, my opinion on 3-5 drastically improved afterwards.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Yandere Jack, Hercules, Rudra, Poseidon, Hades, Ares, Qin Shi Huang, Hermes, Buddha and Platonic Adam and Zerofuku with Fem!Loid Reader?

During her fight with (God/Human) she wins and for her wish, wants her Daughter to be accepted in the prestigious Valhalla Academy where Deity Children go (Daughter isn’t hers biologically, but she took her in as her kid because she’s an orphan, similar to Reader, and even took Zerofuku in as her kid too) she’s still is a spy, but she mainly keeps an eye on those that look like they’ll cause trouble in Valhalla (Zeus agrees, trusting her to be his eyes and ears for this kind of stuff)

However, the only problem is the School needs the children to have both parents come in, cue Reader screaming/panicking in front of (Human/God) how is she supposed to find a man that would marry her in 48 hours?! Which he tells her he’ll do it (He refuses to miss this opportunity of a lifetime to marry the woman that stole his heart) causing Reader to fall face first to the floor in shock (As they’re running away from some of Reader’s ‘Patients’) and she uses a Grenade‘s Safety Pin to give (Love) as an Engagement Ring (He can’t decide if he should be impressed by her creativity or amazed by Reader’s ‘boldness’ to do a role-reversal on asking him the marriage proposal) Girl Boss Reader

Cue Boss Music as Adam isn’t very happy with what (Love) just said (And proceeds to chase him around yelling how a relationship is supposed to go, with dates and getting to know each other, not immediate marriage)

-You did it, you had won your fight! Mission accomplished, and now you would get your wish from Zeus!

-You had become eyes and ears for Zeus, after he learned that you were a spy on earth, and a damn good one at that, and you had the job of keeping an eye on those who would cause problems around Valhalla.

-Your reports were always thorough and detailed, proving that you were very diligent at your job, but recently, you had an additional job, becoming a parent! You had recently adopted two children, one god and one human child, Zerofuku and Eri (I’m feeling lazy and she’s an easy character to write).

-Eri was an orphan, much like you were, and she was just a little girl, needing someone to protect her in this world, and as Zerofuku had been the one to first find Eri, he came along but was happy to join a family like yours, as you were warm feeling, being a good parent.

-You had heard both Zerofuku and Eri cheering for you in your fight, showing your combat skills, even Zeus was surprised by your skills, you could be quite dangerous if you really wanted to be!

-Ragnarok was now a yearly tournament, no longer a fight to the death, and the winner of each round would get one wish granted, which is the reason you joined.

-You wanted nothing more than for Eri to get a good education, as you didn’t get one, having grown up in a time of war, and your wish was for her to be able to go to the very prestigious Valhalla Academy, a school for both gods and humans, but it was notoriously difficult to get in.

-So that was your wish, for Eri to be able to go to school, something that made her beam, as she wanted to go to school, having not been allowed when she was alive on earth and Zerofuku was elated as well, seeing his little sister and mama so happy!

-You went to the school to get the application, but when you exited, you were surrounded by gloom, your whole body pure white in shock as you sunk into a park bench, burying your face in your hands.

-You knew this was a prestigious school, but you hadn’t realized all the requirements, all students had to have both parents come in for the interview, no single parents allowed!! How were you going to do this in less than 48 hours?!?!

-(Love) saw you lamenting on the bench, as the gloomy aura you were projecting wasn’t easily ignored. You had proven yourself a worthy opponent in this years Ragnarok, beating him of all people, and you had gotten your wish, so why did you look so gloomy now?

-He sat next to you, “Y/N?” you looked up and immediately your eyes went huge, and you grabbed his hands, “Marry me (Love)!!” he froze in shock at your sudden and very bold proposal.

-He could see the fire in your eyes, there was some reason behind it, and while elated at your proposal, as you had managed to steal his heart in your fight, kicking his ass while still looking so prim and beautiful, he spoke, “Before I say yes, I need to know why first.”

-You explained that your wish was for Eri to go to this school, but for the interview process that was in less than 48 hours, every child needed both parents, as single parents weren’t permitted, something that he grew angry at as there were lots of single parents out there.

-He fell for you even harder, seeing the lengths you were willing to go for your daughter, as he had seen you out and about with Eri and Zerofuku, the two of them holding your hands, you were a perfect mother!

-He instantly smiled and went to accept when you heard a voice shout out, “Oh no you don’t!!” you both turned, seeing your adopted father Adam there, surrounded by flames of rage, “That’s not how marriage works! You’re supposed to court each other and go on dates! Not jump right into marriage!!”

-You tried to explain your reasoning, and while honorable, Papa Adam wasn’t happy about it, chasing the two of you around.

-(Love) swept you up princess style and leapt down off a bridge onto another path, running away as he beamed at you, “I’ll marry you Y/N!” you beamed brightly up at him, showing your own joy, your arms around his neck, “I’m so happy!”

-You managed to lose Adam, but he called you later, still fuming and you told him that your plan was to do things the old-fashioned way, once Eri was accepted into the school, which placated him for the moment, but threatened (Love) to not hut or upset you, Eri, or Zerofuku.

-Eri and Zerofuku were elated to see that you now had a husband, and they had a father figure now. Zerofuku was instantly getting along with (Love) which made you happy, while Eri clung to you, a big shy with this new man.

-You watched him kneel down, getting down to her level, a gentle smile on his face, greeting her kindly. You explained to your children the reasoning behind the sudden marriage and Zerofuku grew upset, changing into his Envy mode, which caused you to pull him into your arms, trying to calm him down.

-Eri looked up at (Love), “So we’re playing pretend family so I can get into school?” He nodded softly, before giving you a small smile, “At first yes we are playing pretend, but I want us to become a real family, Eri, Zerofuku, Y/N- I want to be a part of this family.”

-Your bright red face was rather cute to see, holding your cheeks, which immediately brought Zerofuku back to normal, as both of your children cuddled you, thinking you were adorable!

-Eri got in with no issues, something you all cheered for, taking her out to her favorite bakery to celebrate, and you hugged (Love), overwhelmed with joy.

-When you tried to pull back, he embraced you back, hugging you close, a smile on his own face, making a silent vow that he was going to be a part of this family, no matter what.

-Became the best father possible to your children, he would read to them, help Eri with her homework, and always made time to take them out to parks to go and play. Your kids were easily won over by his devotion, making good on his promise that he was going to become a perfect father for them. He doted on your just as much, helping you around the house, cuddling you close like you were his real wife, and even taking you out on dates, proving to you that he was a good husband for you. It was hard not to fall for him, especially when he would accompany you and Eri to school, proving to everyone that he was indeed a good father and would defend you against others who didn’t believe you were a good mother. Both he and Zerofuku were very protective of you and Eri, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put anyone in their place to defend both of you.

-Jack, Poseidon, Hades, Hermes, and Qin Shi Huang.

-Took to being a father naturally, would cry when Eri would cry, would hug Zerofuku close when he would get upset and go into his Envy form, doting on him. You were impressed with his skills, and he showed you what a good father and husband he was for you, showering you with love while out and about, something other mothers grew a bit jealous of when you would drop Eri off at school, seeing how attentive your husband was to both you and Eri. If she would tear him, not wanting to leave, he would kneel and hug her close, giving her a pinkie promise that you both would be there to pick her up at the end of the day. Then he would peck your cheek, beaming brightly, “C’mon Y/N- let’s go on a date!” he loved seeing the envious glares on others, he was the one who had your heart, who had such a lovely family, not them, and he was going to keep it that way.

-Hercules, Ares, Rudra and Buddha

[diazheartsbuckley]

⛪️⬇️❤️‍🔥

These ALL sound so freaking good but I NEED more about these 3!!! 😍😍😍

Hiya!

⛪️ (Mob boss!Buck x Priest!Eddie

“So what made you come here?” Eddie asks, carefully sitting down on the pews but without turning to look at the man besides him.

There’s a long stretch of silence and he can see how tense Buck becomes, jaw clenching tightly as he stares at the lit candles at the back wall.

“I just-…” Buck sighs. He shouldn’t confide in someone else. He shouldn’t let anyone in. The walls that he has built around himself have been under construction since he was ten years old and his father went to prison. For that exact reason, he found it increasingly difficult to wake up and look at himself in the mirror, accepting his own fate. “I don’t want to be like my father”

⬇️ (The smutty mechanic fic)

The heat of a familiar body presses up against him, arms on either side of his box him in and Buck exhales softly, his eyes never leave the engine room. Eddie was trying to teach him just a little bit about cars but it had been fruitless since Buck kept distracted by work calls and stepping away from the car.

“Alright, darling, this right here is the ignition system” Eddie drawls, the southern accent and charm shining through in every single word. “So what we’re gonna do…” He stretches a hand forward, roaming around the engine and then holds up a part that to Buck, could’ve been anywhere on the car. “Is take this here part out”

Buck isn’t listening to a single word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, he’s just staring at his sweaty and slightly greasy forearms and his right hand that’s resting dangerously close to his hip. “And then what?” Buck breathes out as the heat from Eddie’s body disappears ever so slightly.

“What would you like to have happen?” A proud and teasing grin spread across Eddie’s face.

❤️‍🔥 (bratty probie!Buck x newly appointed Lieutenant!Eddie)

Inspired by the amazing @bidisasterevankinard 🥰

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been entirely by the book during that car crash they responded to earlier, but hey, it had gotten the job done and everyone made it out alive.

He slams the door behind him as he exits the engine, the heavy thud reverberating in the garage and he begins to open his jacket, allowing a cool breeze to flow through the thick fabric.

“Probie!” An angry voice calls from the other engine, determined footsteps making their way towards him hurriedly. Lieutenant Eddie Diaz is front of him, as close that he can almost feel his breath against his skin. “What the hell were you doing out there? That is not protocol” Eddie tells the young man in front of him.

He’s got that devilish teasing smile on his face, a face that’s sculpted by actual gods and Eddie hated to admit it because he had to be professional, he had to be his superior officer, but the ass on that man? It made his mouth water on several occasions and he had maybe (maybe not) gotten himself off to the thought of fucking the attitude out of him.

“So?” Buck raises an eyebrow and darts the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, noticing how the lieutenants eyes can’t help but to follow it.

“What do you mean, ‘so’? You could’ve gotten seriously injured back there” The older man stretches his arm behind him, indicating towards the call that they just came from. People were watching them or at least keeping an eye on them as they stood face to face, Buck’s back pressed against the side of the engine.

The opportunity presents itself wide open (which is exactly what Buck wants to do for his superior officer) and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. You should find an appropriate punishment” Buck almost can’t contain his excitement as he watches a pretty shade of red rising to the lieutenants face.

Make me write ✍️

Gonna use this as my wip(s) Wednesday🥰

Tagged by @tizniz @actuallyitsellie 💕

Tagging!!

@himbobuck @hippolotamus @wikiangela

@wildlife4life @daffi-990 @jeeyuns

@inell @underwaterninja13 @bilosan

@butraura @bucksbignaturals @bucksbirthmark

@evanbegins @bucks-daddy-issues @honestlydarkprincess

@watchyourbuck @namjroon @monsterrae1

@exhuastedpigeon @extasiswings @spotsandsocks

@dangerpronebuddie @cal-daisies-and-briars @fiona-fififi

@steadfastsaturnsrings @ronordmann @rogerzsteven

@theotherbuckley @pirrusstuff @loveyouanyway 🩵

[cherryhazee]

right where you left me | Luke Hughes

Warnings: Angst with open ending.

"You left me no choice but to stay here forever" inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'right where you left me'.

Luke stepped into the campus diner, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and bacon enveloping him. It was a busy Thursday morning, and the place was alive with the chatter of families, students, and solo diners enjoying their breakfast. He glanced around, his eyes quickly searching for an empty seat, failing to find one leaving Luke to sigh in mild frustration.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he needed to eat breakfast now. Luke's gaze swept across the place once more, and that's when he saw her—a beautiful young woman sitting by the window, her dark hair pinned up, a book propped open in front of her, and a plate of chocolate chip pancakes beside it, but most importantly an empty seat in front of her.

Luke hesitated for a moment, considering his options. He could wait for another seat to open up, but the aroma of fresh pancakes and coffee was tempting. Gathering courage, he made his way towards her table. With each step, his heart raced a little faster. When he arrived, he stood beside the table, his mind racing as he tried to think of the right words.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice surprisingly steady, “I think you noticed that the diner is quite full today. Would it be ok if I joined you at your table? I promise not to disturb.”

She glanced up from her book, surprise evident in her eyes. For a brief moment, their gazes locked, and Luke felt a mixture of anxiety and doubt. He was prepared for her to decline, but her lips curved into a warm smile.

“Sure, go ahead," she replied, gesturing to the empty seat across from her.

"I'm Luke, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Emma,” she introduced herself with a soft smile as he settled into the offered seat.

As Luke got comfortable, he picked up the menu, his attention split between the options and the woman in front of him. After ordering, he decided to try and make some conversation, as they talked the initial awkwardness dissolved. Luke discovered that Emma was also a freshman attending the university and wanted to become a writer, while Emma learned that Luke played for the hockey team.

As they finished their meal, Luke glanced at the clock and realized that he was late for practice. “Shit! I should probably get going," Luke said while grabbing his phone and seeing all of the missed calls from his teammates.

Emma nodded, understanding. "It was nice meeting you, Luke. Maybe we'll run into each other again."

"I hope so," he replied, a genuine smile lighting up his face. With a final goodbye, he headed towards the exit, leaving the diner. As Luke reached the door, he paused for a moment, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and determination. He couldn't shake the feeling of meeting Emma, and he didn't want to let the opportunity slip away.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and walked back towards her table. She looked up, a curious expression on her face as she met his gaze. "Hey, Emma," Luke began, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness "I had a great time talking with you. Would you be interested in giving me your number?” Emma's eyes lit up with a soft smile, and she nodded. "I'd like that, Luke."

That was their first of many encounters, but time had passed. Now Emma was sat alone at the diner, her gaze fixed on the spot where he had once been. The wind blew through the trees, carrying with it the haunting whispers of their shared memories. The world had moved on, but she was still frozen in time, in the same place where they always met on Thursday mornings, trapped in a moment that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

She still remembers how her mascara ran down her eyes and the sound of the glass shattering that she knocked from the table while getting up. She still feels the emptiness that Luke left the day he left, she still feels that hollow that cannot be filled in her chest.

He didn’t give her a choice, he left her for someone else and then left for New Jersey, he didn’t say a word after it. Not even after 2 years. Time has passed, and she has dated several men but nothing too serious. At the end of the day, she always ends up in that campus diner, sits at that same table and she waits for him in case he changes his mind, even after all this time.

Is he still dating her? Or had he already found someone else? Someone he planned to have a family with and spend Christmas with their kids.

“Is this seat taken? The diner is quite full” a deep voice asked her, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up and felt her heart stop and her breath hitch at the sight in front of her.

“Luke?”

[electricaquarius]

Hello friends, I come bringing my very first GeRolan fic and also my first m/m smut! The lovely people over on the Geraldus server got to see the genesis of this idea as well as the whole fic early, so please join if you're interested in our dear Harper Prince! Also on AO3 if that's more your speed.

Summary: It's a super hot summer day in Baldur's Gate and everyone is feeling sweaty and miserable. Rolan/Geraldus smut eventually, handjobs, anal sex, the lightest touch of angst.

It was hot. It was, quite frankly, more than hot. Geraldus had never experienced heat quite like this before, and certainly not in a city. The tall buildings, the crowds, the sticky heat settling on his skin, it all combined to make him summarily miserable. Heat like this conjured images of pale yellow grass and parched soil from back home and Geraldus felt like he was wilting right alongside his mother’s crops. He’d tried his best to hold his tongue, his mother often told him that complaining got him nowhere, but the inescapable humidity was getting to everyone. Lia, for example, hadn’t stopped complaining since she draped herself across the couch and began fanning herself dramatically. 

‘Come on, Rolan, you’re certain there’s nothing you could do? I’m on the verge of melting!’ It was a futile request really but if there was one thing Geraldus knew about Lia, it was that she couldn’t stand being reminded of things she couldn’t control. A lot like her brother, in that aspect. Rolan snapped shut his book and breathed an irritated sigh, turning to face her. A bead of sweat rolled down his back and he suppressed a disgusted shiver. 

‘Lia.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Powerful as I am, there isn’t a wizard alive or dead that can control the weather. You know that, and I know that you know as this is the third time I’ve told you. Now I’m going to strongly suggest that you leave before my patience entirely runs out and we spend the rest of the afternoon arguing.’ His tail flicked in short strokes from side to side, clearly cross but trying to keep his temper in check.

Lia rolled her eyes and stood up, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. ‘Fine, fine, but I’m not bringing you back any ice cream.’ She shot an apologetic look to Geraldus. ‘Afraid that means you, too, sunshine. Unfortunate that my brother isn’t feeling more charitable.’ She shrugged, grabbing her hat from a nearby table. ‘Well, off I go to faint from the heat!’ 

Geraldus managed a quiet ‘goodbye’ as Lia exited through the portal, not wanting to stoke the flames of the looming argument between her and Rolan. The remaining tiefling muttered something under his breath looking in the direction of the portal. Geraldus took the opportunity to stretch out now he was no longer sharing the sofa with Lia, resting his head on the arm and covering his eyes for a moment. He could feel the heat radiating off of him, sweat sinking into the cushions beneath him. 

Rolan took a moment just to admire him, as he often did. Delicately pointed ears against stark black hair swept up off of his elegant neck into a bun, stretched across the sofa like a big cat. His shirt had hitched up slightly exposing his pale skin, a sheen of sweat catching the light and giving him an almost ethereal look. Geraldus was a work of art, and Rolan knew it. He entertained the thought of swiping his tongue across his lower stomach and up towards his navel but thought better of it. Satisfying as it would be, Rolan knew far better than to just maul his lover whenever he felt like it. Still, it was a tempting idea…

‘I can feel you staring’ mumbled Geraldus. ‘Please, just tell me what it is.’ He bit back on an additional, far less nice comment. The heat wasn’t Rolan’s fault, of course, but Geraldus really didn’t have the patience for Rolan to dance around whatever it was he wanted in weather like this.

Rolan, slightly taken aback by Geraldus’ forwardness, came towards him and knelt in front of the sofa. ‘Just admiring you, that’s all.’ He placed a hand on Geraldus’ naked stomach and slowly started drawing it up when the half-elf grimaced. Rolan stopped, concerned. ‘Everything alright?’

Geraldus placed a hand on top of his and gently placed it back on the sofa. ‘In any other circumstance I’d be quite happy to let you… have your way with me,’ Geraldus felt the heat rising in his cheeks, ‘but I'm coated in sweat and very uncomfortable which doesn't lend itself to feeling, well, cuddly.’ Geraldus usually struggled a little with discussing their more intimate moments but had used his frustration to find his voice. 

‘Ah. Of course.’ Rolan backed off slightly, drawing back his hands to rest on top of his knees. Rejection never felt good, especially to someone with his pride. Not to say that Geraldus didn't have the right to say no as freely and often as he wanted, but it being due to Rolan's infernal heat gave a unique sinking feeling of disappointment. Rising, Rolan picked up the jug of water and took it to the kitchen, turning the problem over in his mind as he refilled it. If the heat was making Geraldus uncomfortable and miserable, then that had to be remedied immediately. Create Water wouldn't help as the humidity was too high, and he wasn't certain of his ability to create a Gust spell gentle enough just to cool them both down. Rolan was deep in thought when he heard Geraldus approach. 

‘Um, I'm sorry. For being short with you. I'm sure you understand but I've never quite experienced heat like this and I'm… having trouble acclimatising.’ Geraldus took the jug and poured himself a glass of water, taking two large sips. ‘I hope I didn't upset you.’ He put the glass down and pressed a quick kiss to the tiefling's cheek. Rolan turned to face him and gave him a warm smile.

‘You are far too sweet for your own good, my skylark.’ He chuckled. ‘No, I was just considering our predicament. I told Lia there was nothing I could do as she'd have me use all my energy turning the tower into a ski resort if she thought it were possible.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘But, there might be something I can do for us both to cool us down. No ‘snuggling’ required of course! I just want to make us both more comfortable.’

Geraldus hummed in confirmation, leaning back against the counter. ‘I'll leave you to it, then. Don't work yourself too hard, my heart. Come sunset I'm sure we'll both feel better, anyway.’ He patted Rolan's hand and headed back into the lounge.

***

Not more than a couple of hours later Rolan had emerged from his study, looking triumphant. Geraldus swivelled around from his seat on the floor where he had been folding paper cranes to pass the time. Keeping his hands busy had allowed him to stay calm and forget the more unpleasant side effects of the heat but he was happy all the same Rolan appeared to have solved their problem. Rolan crossed over and offered him a hand to help himself up from the floor, which he accepted gracefully. 

‘I think you'll be quite surprised at my ingenuity this time, my lark. I've made us an oasis of cool in this hot, humid tower. And now I know how, I can recreate it whenever you please.’ Rolan led him over to his office and opened the door, waving him through. 

As Geraldus stepped over the threshold he let out a sigh of pure relief. A cool breeze immediately stirred around his body intense enough to create goosebumps on his arms. ‘Oh, it's perfect, Rolan! What did you do?’ Geraldus turned just in time to see Rolan right behind him, wrapping him in a hug from behind. He began to explain, punctuated with kisses along Geraldus’ pale neck.

‘I began with a Cone of Cold. Perhaps overkill to just cool down on a hot day but I wanted to make sure it would work. Tweaking the intensity, I found a level that was pleasantly cool, then added a Gust spell on top to make sure the air circulated nicely.’ Geraldus reached a hand back behind him to brush his fingers against Rolan's horns. A shuddering breath of pleasure caressed his ear.

‘Am I to assume this is an invitation to pick up where we left off?’ Rolan asked in a low voice, trying to hold himself back from grinding against Geraldus’ thigh. Geraldus melted, arousal stirring deep within him at his lover's touch. 

‘Mmh… Yes, please touch me.’ Geraldus took Rolan's hand and trailed it down past his stomach to his cock, pressing down lightly. Rolan continued to kiss him, sucking and nipping at his neck as Geraldus moaned softly. Unable to resist, Rolan pressed his hips against his ranger's firm thigh and cursed under his breath at the sudden spark of pleasure. 

Rolan's hand went lower, removing Geraldus’ cock from his trousers and beginning to stroke lightly. Geraldus gasped, pressing his hips up to his lover's hand needily. The cool air of his study combined with the warmth of his hand was a completely new sensation, and all the more exhilarating for it. Geraldus’ moans grew louder as Rolan increased the pace, the half-elf's hips moving as he chased the pleasure until Rolan suddenly stilled his hand.

Geraldus was panting, whining, precum leaking from his tip as Rolan savoured every moment of his desperation. A low chuckle escaped his lips. ‘You did very well, my sweet. Very well. But, I'm not quite finished with you. If you'd let me, I'd quite like you to lie on my desk so I can make love to you properly.’ Geraldus shivered as Rolan caressed his inner thighs, turning his head to catch the tiefling's lips with his. Slowly they disentangled from one another and repositioned themselves, Geraldus winding a hand through Rolan's hair as they gazed at each other lovingly. Rolan stroked his lover's hip, adoring the sensation of soft flesh under his hands.

Rubbing his cock against Geraldus’ entrance, Rolan opened the desk drawer with his other hand and pulled out a bottle of oil. Geraldus mewled softly as the oil was applied, Rolan slipping a finger inside of him for a moment. The half-elf's cock twitched against his stomach, feeling very close to climax. Rolan smirked. ‘Ah ah, not just yet. Do you think you can hold on for me, skylark?’ Geraldus bit his lip and nodded, hands gripping the underside of his thighs.

Slowly, slower than he'd liked to, Rolan entered Geraldus. A shiver of pleasure pulsed through them both, knowing that neither would last long. Rolan began to move, pushing deeper with each thrust as Geraldus cried out, hips pressing up against his partner's. Every twitch and shudder around his cock sent a shock of pleasure through Rolan. He cursed under his breath, feeling his own climax approaching quickly. And when Geraldus wrapped his legs around his waist he was done for. Pushing down on the small of Rolan's back with his heels, Geraldus came on his stomach and chest. Something primal switched on in Rolan as he chased his own end. Before he knew it, his jaws clamped down on the spot where Geraldus’ neck met his shoulder. Rolan whimpered loudly against his lover's neck as he came inside of him, shooting three times before finally pulling out.

Panting, Geraldus slid over on the desk so there was room for Rolan to take a seat. A quiet moment stretched out between them. Rolan reached over and took Geraldus’ hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles. ‘Let it be known, my lark, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.’

[kendsleyauthor]

🎨 Journey + Hush + Labyrinth + Regret 🎨

Promptober 2023

Print / Trinket Universe (Kylian and Bluebell)

~2000 words

Warning: Dehumanization, fearplay

A sequel to this story. These were the only two stories I planned for this month about Kylian and Bluebell, but you can expect more in the future. 😉

@marydublinauthor

Bluebell was a woman of many talents and skills. Cleaning was not one of them. This was especially troubling because there were no other openings available for prints at the time she took the job. And changing roles was unheard of—she should be so grateful to have a job in the first place.

Thankfully, the fellow prints and even the human members of her crew were easily charmed. But was sure she was on thin ice despite that.

Kylian Hart, the owner of the estate she cleaned every Monday and Thursday afternoon, surely wanted her dead—or, at least fired.

Ever since he caught her dancing around in front of his mirror like an idiot, he glowered at her whenever they crossed paths. Even when she averted her gaze and hurried off to find something to clean, she was aware of his gaze following her like a lead weight.

He was probably waiting for the opportunity to pounce—ready for the moment she would do something frivolous and stupid again. It had been two weeks since the incident, and every time she had to return to the sprawling house, her stomach curdled with fear.

If Mr. Hart had complained to her supervisor, Bluebell hadn’t gotten wind of it yet. Which meant, for some reason, the enigmatic artist was keeping her slip-up to himself. That only put her more on edge. Any time now, he would fire her when she least expected it. She’d learned from the others that he had sent away cleaners for even less. Prints who were fired from a high-profile assignment like this were dismissed from the company entirely.

Against all odds, cleaning rich people’s ridiculous homes was a high-value job among prints. I’m grateful, she told herself over and over, as though it might nullify the karma that was chasing her. I’m very, very grateful.

If she lost this job, she doubted she’d find another. She wouldn’t starve—not when she had a way with charming meals from the neighbors in the slums. But it would mean having no money to wire to Aster. Not that she sent much, though it was something. And the wire transfer was one of the few ways she could assure him that she was still alive.

“Where are you off to, Blue?” Elara, one of the prints on the crew, spotted Bluebell wandering away while they were supposed to be polishing the contents of a china cabinet.

Bluebell barely needed the movable scaffolding to reach the floor. She landed lightly, slinging a rag over her shoulder with a warm smile. “Off to get a head start on the next room, sunshine. I feel so clumsy around all that fancy stuff, anyway.”

Elara gave a short laugh. “Please. You could do cartwheels around these things without leaving a smudge. But go on. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Can’t stand the way he skulks around like a ghost.”

A wry smile stayed painted on Bluebell’s face as she exited the room. He’s skulking ‘cause of me, sunshine.

When she reached the next room, she didn’t stop. The timing wouldn’t get any better than now. This was the floor she needed to be on. The humans on the crew, somewhat nice or not, wouldn’t have let her wander off again. Although they didn’t know about the incident, her penchant for vanishing hadn’t gone unnoticed.

She stayed close to the wall, winding her path toward the studio that Mr. Hart caught her in. Maybe if she apologized in person, he would have mercy on her. Maybe, just maybe, he would appreciate her bravery in speaking up.

Silly, ditzy me. Can’t help myself when I see a mirror. You know how rare a clean mirror is in the slums? Rare, Mr. Hart, very rare. I hope you don’t think that’s how I spend my afternoons here, though. I work so very hard. And I’m grateful. So very grateful.

Much like the first time she meandered into the room, it was open just a crack. The lights were off, and the curtains were drawn as she peeked her head inside. The hallway fixtures provided just enough illumination to confirm that Mr. Hart wasn’t there—and that there were several new canvases set up around the room.

Although her heart sank that she wouldn’t get her chance to apologize right then, her attention was drawn to the canvases that towered high overhead. She squinted. When she last intruded into the studio, there had been a few sketches pinned to the walls and books stuffed on shelves, but not much else to look at.

Her gaze remained fixed on the nearest canvas. She could make out a figure. One that looked like… But no, it couldn’t be. She was seeing things.

Get out. He’s not here. Go.

But she had to know. 

Grunting, she pushed her entire body against the door to widen the opening. The hinges were well-oiled enough, but the weight of the wood proved to be cumbersome. She managed to widen the net of light from the hallway that fell into the room. Panting from exertion, she looked up to see the canvas—and its neighbors—properly.

She would have gasped, but her lungs refused to take air. She staggered further into the room, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

All five of the canvases—even the new sketches pinned to the walls—were her.

“Holy hell,” she breathed.

Most of her likenesses were full-body portrayals. Blue skirts, dark hair, dancing poses in motion. All kinds of expressions, too—from full-blown grins to pensive frowns. 

He had been watching her.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, gaping, but she didn’t know what snapped her out of it—footsteps thudded down the hall, fast approaching.

Bluebell cursed under her breath. It was him. No one else in this house would dare walk as loudly as he did. She couldn’t bolt out the door—he’d see her. She scrambled further into the room and ducked under the table, praying and praying that he would simply pass the studio.

The door creaked open wider. The footsteps entered. The light flicked on. The door shut firmly.

She cowered against the wall, hiding among the clutter. Boxes of half-used art supplies and scraps of crumpled sketching paper created a maze around her. Clearly, Mr. Hart had not allowed anyone to clean this room in ages. Thank heavens that worked in her favor. 

Polished shoes approached. She pressed herself hard against the wall, covering her mouth to keep from screaming. He settled into his chair. After a moment, she heard a harried scrape of pencil on paper. 

Another sketch of her?

Bluebell stepped gently to the side, looking past the clutter to catch a glimpse of the door. There was a wastebasket there, surrounded by more wads of paper. If she could huddle behind the basket, she could flee whenever he opened the door again. 

She turned her attention to his shoes and slowly, slowly crept against the floor molding. With all her attention fixed on him, she didn’t pay attention to her path. A pencil lay at her feet, and she stepped squarely upon it. A squeal burst past her lips as she dropped hard to her hands and knees.

The sketching stopped.

“Who’s in here?” His voice was vicious. 

His shoes scraped against the floor as he stood, shoving the chair back. Cowering in the soft puddle of her skirts, she looked around desperately for a hiding place. Perhaps one of the boxes—but the world rattled, making it impossible to think clearly. Massive hands dug at the clutter, determined to leave her with nothing to hide behind. Clawing fingers almost blindly took her into their grasp.

She bolted, slipping expertly among the boxes, but it was no use. He shoved one of the containers so hard that it knocked into her. Pain lanced through her body as she was forced into the open—right into his glare’s path. 

His hand descended and squeezed her into a tight grip. A scream wanted to come out, but she didn’t have the air to produce it. A pathetic whimper came out instead as he dragged her out from under the table. Her legs hung over empty air, her stomach churning from the sudden ascent before her captor’s eyes.

All at once, his murderous glare snapped into surprise. His grip loosened, nearly dropping her, but his other hand shot up to stop her fall. She gasped for air and bowed her head while she gathered her bearings. He said nothing, so she scrambled to fill the silence.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. Both hands were around her, leaving her entirely at his mercy. After what she had seen in the studio—from the art to the bite of his glare—her inner speech abandoned her. All she could produce was a whispered, “I work so hard. I’m very grateful. I-I…”

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said, filling the pause after she trailed off. His tone was unreadable, and she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

She nodded shakily, wishing he would put her down. “It’s me,” she confirmed with a high little laugh. “I was just going to apologize about the other day, and I…” She chanced a look at the canvases around her, then winced.

He stood, carrying her with him effortlessly to the tabletop. He dropped her onto the surface. Her breath caught. He had, in fact, been sketching her. She could see the outline of her heart-shaped face taking form on the paper. The table was littered with blue pencils and markers. She swallowed hard and scooted back on her rear, wondering what he would do with her now that she’d seen his work.

“I-I… I should get back,” she said hoarsely. “They’ll start to wonder if I’m taking a nap somewhere.” She gave a forceful giggle. “N-not that I would ever—”

“You don’t like them?”

She blanched. He regarded her stonily.

“W-what?” she asked. “Oh. The—” She wet her lips and blinked around the studio. Something sinister crawled beneath her skin, but she forced another dainty laugh. “The me’s. I just… Sir, I just don’t understand why…” She pointed at herself and smiled cluelessly.

Don’t play dumb. You love the attention. Well, here it is.

Mr. Hart steepled his fingers imperiously, leaning the lower half of his face behind his hands. She dared to look higher and meet his gaze. She hadn’t noticed before—he looked less disheveled than usual. Hair combed back instead of messy. Clothing neat instead of rumpled. Facial hair was shaved close to his skin. Maybe he’d looked like that every time he glared at her the past weeks—she’d just been too afraid to look at him long enough to notice.

“I thought you looked compelling.” His voice sounded matter-of-fact, yet small behind his hands. Almost bashful.

A bizarre silence followed. He watched her closely, his stare digging into her face like hot knives. Was he taking the opportunity to examine her more closely for his next piece—or did he truly care about her reaction to his work?

As if that reaction could be anything less than undying appreciation and awe. He had her cornered. If she displeased him… Disappearances weren’t uncommon. Her crew and neighbors might mourn her for a few days—their charming little mascot lost. 

Only Aster would really care—but she was more or less dead to him already.

Still, self-preservation took hold. 

She fixed her expression into a bashful smile as she cowered before him. She batted her eyes coquettishly. Little old me?

“I’m… so very touched, sir,” she said.

For the first time since she’d ever laid eyes on him, Mr. Hart looked pleased.

[green-kat331]

My Friend Spider-man

Pt 2: Opportunity

(Spider-man x reader)

Warnings: None

Pt 1

A new day has begun.

The sun is shining, and the horns of New york traffic are blaring through your balcony glass doors. Lazily, you detangle yourself from your blankets and push off the mattress for a nice refreshing shower before your roommate could wake up and steal all of the warm water for himself.  

You sit in the shower, letting the water run down your back. As you sat in the tub, you got to thinking about how you would go about scoring that interview. You were stumped, nothing came to mind…Unless—

BANG BANG BANG!!!

Sudden bangs break your thoughts. 

“Yo! Are you alive in there? If you are, hurry up I gotta get going. - And don’t you steal all the hot water!” Your roommate Mikey shouts into the thin bathroom door. 

“Shut up, I’ll be out in a sec!” You shout back reaching for the shower handle and shutting it off. 

After a rushed routine, you exit the bathroom already glaring at the man in front of you. 

“Geez finally” He huffs, towel and his clothes under his arm. 

“Can’t you shower at your girlfriend’s place?” You ask as he pushed past you. But he slams the door in your face not even bothering to respond. 

Quickly you get dressed in your most professional outfit. Readying your bag and notepad you made sure to also bring an audio recorder just in case. A ping from your phone grabs your attention. It was Peter.

Peter: Sorry, Can’t meet up with you today got busy. :( 

A heavy sigh leaves your lips when you read the first few words. Peter just always seemed to get busy at the worst moments possible.

You: That’s fine. say hi to Aunt May for me 

Peter: Will do. Sorry again.

Shaking your head you stuff your phone into your pocket, grabbed a quick breakfast, and went out into the city streets. 

You tapped your pen on your chin, looking over your notes on how to grab the Spider’s attention. 

You contemplated jumping into traffic but that was too risky. 

Getting robbed was an option though there was no way you could properly set that up and turn it into an opportunity without getting flustered. 

Maybe standing on the roof of a building… but he might get the wrong idea.

“Hmm…” You hummed to yourself. How the hell does Peter do it? Always at the right spot at the right time you supposed. 

The right spot…

You stop in your tracks and looked over to an alley similar to the one from yesterday.

A smirk appeared on your face as you walked into the entrance “Just a holler and you’ll come swinging right spider-man? Well… We’ll see how true to your word you actually are.” You say and placed yourself right in the middle of the alley grabbing your notepad a pen and activating the audio recorder before abandoning the bag. 

Quickly you scan the area to make sure it’s free of people.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! SPIDER-MAN!!! HELP!! HELP ME!!!”

You shout using every breath of air you could store in your lungs. The enclosed space made the screams echo back to you, you tried your best to make the plea as realistic as possible. People that walked past shot you strange looks making you feel slightly embarrassed. After a few seconds, You tapped your foot impatiently “Guess not–.” 

“Y’now, when I said give me a holler. I mean when there’s a real emergency” The voice behind you made you scream and turn around. 

“Holy shit you actually did!” 

The famous hero looks around the alley spotting your bag and the audio recorder on top of it. He shakes his head and turns it off. 

“Ma’am I respect the dedication to your work, but I don’t think this is how you get an interview. Someone else might—” 

He stopped suddenly, you took out your notepad and pen and walked towards him more.

“I would like just a few minutes Spider-man, just a few questions. I won’t be long. I swear.” 

“...”

When you were met with silence your shoulders drop. “I’m sorry. It’s just You’ve inspired so many including myself and I just wanted to—” 

Suddenly Spider-man grabbed your arms and pulled you with him into the air. At the same time a log arm smashed into nearby buildings and large pieces of gravel fell into the alley you were just standing in. 

You gasped and yelped clinging onto the hero, arms tightly wrapped around his neck. As he swung around the giant metal arm grabbed his leg and pulled him along with you in the complete opposite direction. Everything was so fast and blurry, quickly you felt him protect your head as his back smashed into a building. He stuck to the wall while holding your waist. He crawled around the building, there was a ledge and he set you down on it. 

“I’ll come back, just stay here.” you nod at his words but your ears rang and your mind was cloudy making everything dizzy, not even noticing when he jumped off the ledge. You forced yourself to not look down. 

You sat as close to the wall as possible hugging your legs. Heavily breathing and struggling to keep up with your rapid heartbeat.

—

After what felt like hours you no longer heard crashing and banging, the sound of gravel faded away and the shaking stopped. You look around for any sign of the web-slinging hero, you huddle into yourself keeping all your limbs as far from the edge as possible. 

Slowly you see Spider-man lower down in front of you, hanging on his web. He steps onto the same ledge as you and waits. There is silence between you two, he reaches his hand out. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” You just sit. The fear in your stomach doesn’t allow you to move even an inch

Slowly he crouches in front of you “Hey, You can trust me alright?” His words were gentle as he held his arm out for you. 

Finally, you grab his hand and he carries you off and around the city. Occasionally you point out what direction to go in and in no time your balcony was visible.

“Now… When you want a real interview, be sure to call me like a normal person.” He says gently placing you down on your balcony.

You were dazed and slowly released him from your bear hug, though to him it must not have felt like anything. You smiled up at him. “but…I-I don’t have your number.” 

“That’s right, so maybe you should give me yours.” He responds.

 You couldn’t see his face but you just knew he was smirking under his mask. “Smooth.” You chuckle and pull out your notepad again to write your number and quickly hand it to him. He tucks it into his sleeve and salutes you goodbye, shooting a web. 

“Until next time miss reporter.” 

“Yeah…Until next time, spider-man”

With that, he jumps off your balcony and swings away. You watch as he turns and flips in the air until finally, he’s out of your view. You squealed in excitement and jumped up and down, rushing into your room to open your computer and begin writing. 

'Spider-man Saves City From Doc Ock.'

No no no...

That’s way too basic. Everyone knows he’s a hero, despite some other opinions. Everyone knows he’s done so many good deeds. People need to know him, people need to know the person behind the mask. You need more information.

Ping

You glance at your phone.

Peter: (____)!! Oh my gosh did you see the news? Are you okay? Where are you right now?

You: Yeah I’m okay Doc Ock just attacked out of nowhere, Luckily Spider-man made it there on time. He saved me, Peter. Again

Peter: That’s good! Meet me at the diner just wanna check up on you.

You: I thought you were busy. 

Peter: My Schedule, just cleared up :)

You laughed at his message, He’s always been so sweet, even during high school and that really strange point during senior year. You dismiss the thought and were about to leave your apartment again before realizing your clothes were all dirty and messed up. You huffed in frustration and quickly got changed and out the doors. 

You saw people crowding around destroyed buildings, construction workers were at the sites and TV news reporters were also gathered around. You walked passed as quickly as you could but a reporter caught up with you “Excuse me, ma’am. You are the woman who was saved by Spider-man this morning is that right?” The woman says walking with you, her Camera man following close in front “I.. um” 

“How would you say Spider-man knew how to defeat Doctor Ock?”

“I- I don’t know, I didn’t ask him. Listen I really gotta go.” You say quickening your speed, She tries but decides not to keep following you. 

At last, you make it to the diner scanning for your friend. He waves you over. You were shocked to see a bandage covering his cheek and forehead. You ran over to him.

“Oh my gosh, Peter are you okay?” You asked holding his face to examine it. 

He smiles and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah I’m fine, I just so happen to have been at the scene the same time the attack happened. Don’t worry, okay?”

“You were there?” You asked sitting across from him

“Yeah, just running a few errands for Aunt May when suddenly the building was smashed through, I was hit but nothing serious.” His story made you worry more. His eyebrows furrowed then he turned and grabbed his bag. “Anyways amongst all the chaos, I managed to take these.” He says and pulled out some sheets of picture paper. 

He lays out the photos on the table, you stared in awe at the pictures. One was of Spider-man in the middle of battle, Doc Ock’s metal arm wrapped around his waist and another in Spiderman’s arms. 

Some others were of Spiderman swinging around the city. 

And the last one was of the Spider carrying civilians in the air protecting the two from the villain close by, one of Doc Ocks arms was in the shot. Every detail was captured in the image. How the civilians clung to the hero's arms. His chest logo was also visible in the shot. The perfect image. It made you wonder how it was possible for an image to be captured. 

“Oh, Petey these are amazing!… How you manage to be at both the right place and the wrong place at the same time will never cease to surprise me.” You say messing with his wavey brown hair.

He lowered his head shyly.

After you two got lunch Peter offered to walk you home and you gladly accepted. 

You walked together speaking about random things and reminiscing about your history together. He has been your closest friend since middle school, through thick and thin he has been the most constant person in your life. Eventually, the topic got back to Spiderman. “You get any luck on the interview yet?” 

This made you pause and stare at the ground nervously 

“Well… uh…I mean I had something planned but it didn’t really go as i wanted.”

“Huh, is that right?” he laughs 

“Yep, I had everything completely under control—” You say walking into the road but before you even had time to realize what was happening, the back of your shirt was grabbed and you were pulled back and fell to the concrete. Blaring horns speed past you and the driver shouts in your direction. You stare shocked. this is the third time you’ve almost died and it hasn’t even been 24 hours. 

You look up at Peter who held a concerned expression. 

“I uh. Think I might still be a bit dizzy from the events this morning.” You admit, Peter shakes his head in disbelief and helps you up “Nice reflexes by the way, since when could you do that?” You ask brushing yourself off.  

“Uhh….That doesn’t matter let's just get you home before you actually die,” Peter says and wraps an arm around you protectively and you both walk huddled together.

—

You make it to your apartment without losing your life. 

You sight when you finally make it through the door and walk into your room to flop on your bad. 

Ping

You hum in annoyance at the new message. 

Sluggishly you pull out your phone and look at the contact. 

Unknown Number: 

I think I’m ready for that interview now. 

A simple message. No context was needed for who the sender was. 

You stare 

And stare 

And stare… 

10 minutes

You have been staring at the message on your phone for 10 whole minutes. Everything wasn’t real to you because if it was then that meant that Spiderman. The Spiderman just agreed to an interview with you. 

Jittery butterflies scattered in your stomach. Just think, Spider-man sitting beside you answering question after question, answer after answer until finally, you have all the material you need to make the best report in your career. You'll be generously rewarded and celebrated for sharing all that you know on the vigilante. 

And so will he. The city will shine a different light on the red and blue hero. 

You'll make sure of that.

[gayphob1a]

Loop 17

tags: angst, referenced drug use, violence

Continuation of this post:

“You know this isn’t the first time we’ve hung out?”

“No?” Chrissy always asks, a little hopeful that Eddie will tell her he knows her. He’s known her for 16 loops, and this one, number 17 is going to be different.

“You don’t remember?” Exactly what he said the first time, exactly what he says every time that breaks her heart a little more in each loop. Chrissy has never been that lucky, so she doesn’t know why it would start now, when she and this doofus she’s growing to love keep dying.

It’s all trial and error at this point. She knows if she buys Eddie’s weed and leaves, Vecna will get her later this evening and that will be the end of the loop. If she stays here and smokes with Eddie, there’s a chance they’ll sit here and talk all night. She’ll still die, but at least Eddie won’t be the prime suspect in her murder, although she’s not sure it really matters — what happens to the world when the loop resets is unknown to her. Maybe there are 16 alternate timelines, or maybe they cease to exist. It hurts her brain, sends her spiraling to consider the possibilities.

This loop she decides to go for the ket again. So far it’s the only way she’s managed to stay alive. The loops tend to blend together so it’s hazy, but she thinks after the first one Eddie plays music when they get back to his trailer. She doesn’t know why, but the heavy drumbeat in Eddie’s music of choice is grounding. She kind of likes it.

Her survival doesn’t stop the killings, and no matter what, Jason is always small minded and obsessed with hunting Eddie down, convinced he’s inducted Chrissy into his ‘cult’. There have been a couple loops where seeing them together drives Jason to kill Eddie. With each loop, she loves him a little less, hates him a little more.

So when Chrissy sees Jason at the gun counter of the Warzone, threatening Nancy Wheeler, she snaps. She marches up to him with purpose, placing her tiny hand on the barrel of the shotgun, between where the two of them play keepaway, and tugs. Chrissy is a cheerleader, a flier, she’s much stronger than she looks, despite her petite frame. The gun falls from both of their hands into hers.

“Jason. Outside. Now.” She grits through bared teeth. She relishes in the way he ducks his head and cowers slightly, taking the opportunity to grab him by the scruff of the neck and lead him out of the emergency exit to the back alley. Without a second thought, she’s aiming the gun at him.

Jason throws his arms up in surrender. “Woah, Chris — Chrissy, hold on. I’m sorry, please, just put the gun down.”

“You’re sorry? That’s the best you can come up with? You’ve taken everything from me over and over again and all you have to say is ‘I’m sorry’?”

“W-what are you talking about? I didn’t- I haven’t done anything.”

“You haven’t? Then what do you call the mob we’ve had to hide Eddie from loop after loop? What do you call the times that you’ve KILLED HIM right in front of me? What do you call that in there with Nancy? Just letting off some steam? Boys being boys? Well let me tell you something Carver: I’m getting really sick and tired of you and your boys.” She pumps the shotgun for emphasis. Jason takes a step back, his strategy of redirection completely failing him as he stares down the barrel, meeting Chrissy’s piercing blue eyes through the iron sights.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jason shouts.

“You never do.” Chrissy says, her tone almost bored as she pulls the trigger, firing a round of buckshot into his chest.

It should be terrifying, traumatizing. Chrissy should scream and feel regret for what she’s just done, but the sight of his blood leaking from his chest into a pool on the asphalt makes her think of the first time she saw Eddie the same way. She feels nothing.

Until the door swings open and Nancy is standing there. Her face is calm like she’s seen worse on any given Tuesday. She reaches for the gun and calmly says: “Everyone heard that shot. We gotta go.”

Chrissy nods, letting Nancy ease her grip on the barrel of the shotgun and take her hand, sprinting back to the RV. The rest of the Party is already there, and Steve steps on the gas as soon as the door is shut. They lurch with the force of the acceleration and Chrissy falls into Nancy’s arms. She realizes she’s panting, the adrenaline finally catching up to her and maybe it’s making her a little crazy because she thinks Nancy is beautiful like this. Calm and powerful, tightly gripping Chrissy’s waist to hold her steady.

Chrissy can’t help herself, leaning her head up to catch Nancy’s lips in a searing kiss. Nancy holds on tighter, kisses back stronger and they melt into each other. When they pull away Chrissy is for once thankful for the prospect of the time loop as 6 pairs of eyes, wide as dinner plates stare at the two of them. Thank god they won’t remember this.

[nightmare-the-cat]

Crimson Wings

An AU where Hunter successfully kills himself and Belos in TFTM- only to wake up in hell.

Yeah. Yeah this is Hazbin Hotel Hell

Will there be a continuation? Maybe. Is this depressing as fuck? Yes. Is Hunters name mentioned even once in this? No.

Proceed at your own risk

Flit

A streak of red and white darted across the blood soaked street. One would assume it to be a trick of the light, if it wasn’t followed by two foreboding streaks of grey. On this day, they were abundant, striking down anyone that caught their gaze.

The chase was on it seemed. Some poor soul was attempting to flee the Exorcist’s wrath, woefully unaware that superior speed had yet to save anyone. Those hiding among the crevices of the urban hellscape dared not interfere, but only those with the blackest of hearts didn’t pity whoever the victim of the demented chase was.

He just kept flying, panic blinding his sense of direction. The poor boy had nary a month after his manifestation to even understand the dreaded Extermination was on the horizon. He’d been unprepared, hiding out in an abandoned estate when the Exorcists descended, only to be discovered mere hours later, trembling in a corner as the holy executioners circled in.

So he did the only thing he could do, what he had been doing near constantly every day since his death.

He fled.

His speed and experience with evading others mid-flight were his saving graces, dodging every wayward attack thrown his way as he struggled to ditch his pursuers. It would be an impressive show should anyone have been observing, expert dives and weaves like the demon had been born to fly.

Still, pure skill in the air wouldn’t keep him alive forever, he already had a few scrapes from near-misses. Thirty minutes in he was running out of steam, while his pursuers seemed limitless, slowly gaining on him while his wings strained to stay ahead.

So, when he saw a break in the storm of violence that was the Extermination, he took the opportunity and dived, holding his arms up in front of him after he aimed for a window in the near pristine manor below.

CRASH!

The small sinner didn’t waste time popping back up on his feet after the impact, frantically taking in every detail of the cavernous room he’d broken into. Cold coloration framing oddly plain marble doors made the space feel even more hollow than it already was, empty of any decoration or furniture. Dread pooled in the young demons stomach as a panicked check of one of the doors revealed they were locked.

“Ah, you have to love it when the prey corners itself!” One of the exorcists crooned in a high voice, making Hunter tremble as he turned to watch the pair of angels casually slink inside using the window he’d just broken. “Aww, cute, he thought the Fallen One would be stupid enough to leave ANY doors unlocked during the Extermination”

The blondes crimson wings flared, falling into the familiar stance of self defense as one of the Exorcists approached, the mouthy one guarding the only exit. He couldn’t go down without fighting-not again.

A slamming door interrupted the confrontation, light cutting through the gloom, and all three beings snapped their heads towards the newcomer.

“Did you jokers break my window AGAIN!?” An oddly performative voice cut in, the owner looking little more than frustrated despite the carnage going on outside. “How many times do I have to tell you the manor is off limits to you bloodthirsty little cretins?”

“We weren’t the ones who broke the window, sir” the quieter Exorcist hissed, jabbing her spear towards the cowering sinner, stopping just short of piercing his throat. The blonde winced as the blessed metal tip then pressed into the underside of his chin, refusing to break his terrified stare towards Lucifer as his head was forcefully tilted upward. “Don’t worry, I’ll make this quick-“

“Not in here you’re not! I’m the one who’ll have to clean that up” the king of hell snapped, before jabbing the apple head of his cane at the broken window. “Just-get out of here, I can dispose of this one myself”

“Sir-“

“That wasn’t a request- GET OUT” the demon ordered, dropping the aloof tone, and both Exorcists scrambled for the broken window in a panicked haste.

Lucifer Morningstar, for what it was worth, planned to make the intruders execution quick. Many came to his manor expecting mercy before, back when the yearly Exterminations first began, and in a sense they got it. Being instantly obliterated was a better option than bleeding out on the pavement-but the message was clear; Lucifer would not spare any sinner, survival was up to them.

Still, he occasionally got the odd straggler who’d plea for Sanctuary, and at this point he’d heard it all when it came to his “subjects” begging for mercy.

He’d spared none.

Even with all that experience dealing with the scum of his “kingdom”, he was woefully unprepared for this particular intruders reaction when he turned on him.

“No-no, I’m sorry-I was just trying to get away-“ the sinner stuttered, trembling as Lucifer approached, tears forming in his panicked magenta eyes as he fell to the ground. “The bells-The light in the sky-they just came down, started killing everyone! I don’t want to die again, please-“

Lucifer stopped short as the sinner’s begging dissolved into genuine crying, his words becoming indistinguishable among the sobs.

None before him had done that-cried so genuinely. Sounded so confused about the Extermination-even though the date was so heavily broadcasted throughout Pride as the day drew near.

“Are you slow or something?” Lucifer found himself asking, startling the crying sinner quite badly. The tears didn’t stop, but he seemed to be trying to process the question.

“W-what?”

He was scarred.

“You’ve clearly been through an Extermination before, this isn’t fresh” Lucifer pointed out, using the end of his cane to poke at the thick, old scar on his cheek. “Got amnesia or something?”

The small sinners hand ghosted over the old wound, shivering as he looked back outside.

“Not them-I don’t know them” was all he said, wiping the remaining tears away as best he could, taking on an empty smile. “I guess he was right though-nothing I did mattered in the end”

He started laughing.

“I mean-I didn’t see him when I woke up, he’s probably still up there!” He cackled manically, holding his forehead as a wide, disturbed smile finally broke out across his face, stumbling to his feet as he continued to laugh, staring out the window. “He’s probably already doing something like this back home-all because I couldn’t even drown myself properly-“

Lucifer stepped back as the sinner suddenly turned on him, not knowing what to make of anything he was spouting off about. None before him had expressed such genuine regret-ever turned to face him, or their own sins, without excuses.

“I ran from what I rightfully deserved, just because I stupidly thought I could get out, fix my mistakes, save the ones who cared about me….” He was slowing down, the laughter turning into something far more pained. Despair, lifetimes worth of it, echoed in what he said next, the young demon stepping back, bowing his head. “I’m sorry- even now I’m delaying what should have come my way long ago”

He dropped to one knee.

“Please-I deserve no mercy”

His voice was empty now.

“Everything was a mistake”

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

A/N: In case you feel more comfortable reading on AO3, you can find the link right here. Since there are several chapters already, I'll create a masterlist for you to easily go from chapter to chapter. Comments or feedback are greatly appreciated!

Word count: 2,248

Warnings: MCU typical violence, mentions of war, mentions of death and un-aliving people.

Namor cursed under his breath when the brush once again went a little too much to the side, leaving behind a crooked line. With a frustrated huff, he carefully scraped it off before starting over. The Talokanil man knew his mind was somewhere else, and his usual distraction wasn’t working as well as it should.  It wasn’t just that Mercedes had called him by a name that didn’t feel right coming from her anymore, but the way she had said it. Hell, it was more like she had spat it, but mixed with the anger that laced her words was something else. Something that caused his chest to hurt a little if he thought about it for too long: betrayal.

It was then that he realized the girl actually thought the only outcome was for him to relent and let her go back to the surface. And what troubled him was that he had actually considered it for a moment until the presence of Namora and the recollection of their previous conversation made him realize doing so would only prove her right.

Later on, he found himself wanting to visit Mercedes in her quarters to try and smooth things over. While he had said he was sorry, it felt more like a meaningless courtesy rather than the true apology he felt compelled to offer. Everything had happened so quickly and there were many things he hadn’t said out of fear of seeming…soft. Namor was still, however, a proud man, and so he bottled up those worries and retreated to his murals, attempting to find solace in the symmetry and colors of his paintings.

He took a deep breath, slowly releasing the pure air of his surroundings before leaning closer to the wall, and slowly dragging the brush across it. And, of course, she was serious about missing that day’s lesson. That was another missed opportunity to try and talk to her alone. Namor had planned to cover the elaborate way in which the Mayans had used the city of Chiꞌ Chꞌeꞌen Its Jaꞌ and its privileged location next to a cenote to trick the neighboring tribes into believing it was an entrance to the Underworld. She would’ve loved the story. He peeked over his shoulder at the manuscripts on the table for one second too long and by the time he remembered the brush in his hand, he had drawn yet another crooked line. As he hurriedly scraped it off, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“That’s not supposed to look like that, is it?”

“I thought you were skipping your lesson. What are you doing here?” He asked, distractedly placing the brush behind his ear, his focus now elsewhere.

“I’m not here to apologize,” Mercedes clarified adamantly, “And I want you to be aware that I do not intend to stay here for another month.”

“Is that so?” He replied, turning around pretending to fix something on the painting to hide an amused smile. She was so fragile compared to him. Helpless, even. Namor knew he could very easily retain her in Talokan for as long as he pleased, and she probably knew it too, and yet Mercedes refused to accept her lack of control over her situation. Still, he did not intend to anger her further.

“For how long are you willing to extend your stay then, Xmeech?” He replied. She was too smart not to realize he wasn’t taking her that seriously, but a little bit of teasing never killed anyone.

“One week. That’s all.” She replied, her voice full of resolution. “Do we have a deal?”

He could’ve asked what she would do if he refused. While they had taken walks around the tunnels, he had made a point of not taking her anywhere near the exits, most of which were below sea level, and led to a new maze of underwater caves. Even with an oxygen supply, attempting to blindly find the way out of such caves was certain death. She wasn’t leaving until he decided so.

“Fine,” He agreed with a smile. She reached out her hand and he stared at it in confusion before remembering her surface customs and shaking it.

A tense silence settled between them, both of them secretly doubting each other’s intentions. Mercedes looked at the unfinished mural once more and scoffed at the crooked line. Namor’s pride didn’t take kindly to it.

“Think you can do it better?” He huffed in a challenging tone, gesturing towards the wall.

“It’s a straight line, it can’t be that hard,” Mercedes muttered, snatching the brush from his hands and pulling her hair up, pinning it in place with the long handle before picking another from the table, which she judged to be of better width. She leaned closer to the wall, carefully placing the brush against the rock. Right before she could slide it, Namor’s voice interrupted her.

“Don’t hold your breath,” He instructed.

“What?” She asked, his words causing her to unclasp the handle for just one second as she furrowed her eyebrows almost apprehensively.

“Just breathe. If you hold your breath, your hand will start to shake and it will be even harder.”

“I swear if you try the ‘here let me show you’ thing and come any closer, I’ll tear each and every piercing off your pretty face,” Mercedes scowled, moving closer to the wall to hide the awfully uneven line she’d just painted.

He just laughed and raised his hands to prove his innocence, slowly backing away from her. After several attempts, Mercedes was once again washing the paint off with a cloth to start over.

“Are you trying to erode the rock to make an escape tunnel?” Namor asked mockingly.

“You know what? Forget it. My brain is too oxygen deprived for this,” Sadie huffed, giving the brush back and grabbing a glass of water that rested atop the table, taking a large sip just to start coughing so violently that she almost spilled the content.

“What is this thing?” She asked, her voice hoarse as she carefully smelled the contents of the glass.

“Definitely not what you thought it was,” He replied with a chuckle, “You might like it if you’re careful, though.”

Hesitantly, Mercedes took another sip. He wasn’t wrong.

“It’s really good, but I have made it my policy to never drink alone,” She said, standing up to look for another glass.

“I’d rather not.” He replied while shaking his head.

“Oh, come on, don’t…”  Suddenly, something seemed to dawn on her as she pursed her lips thoughtfully, “Oh, right. Sorry, I get it, you probably shouldn’t drink around someone…you don’t…” She seemed to struggle to find the words and left the sentence unfinished knowing he would understand.

“No, that’s not it, I just…” Namor sighed and snatched the glass from her hands, reaching out for the bottle and pouring himself a little less than half a glass.

Barely smiling, Mercedes sat down and poured herself a full glass, carefully turning her back on him before putting some manuscripts away. When she did, Namor quickly grabbed the bottle and poured himself some more.

“One glass, I swear,” She affirmed, punctuating the word “one” by lifting one finger. He nodded firmly.

“I just don’t understand how the whole water thing works,” Mercedes once again started rambling, “Do you need it? How would you drink water underwater?”

“The Talokanil don’t need it,” Namor replied, absorbed in watching the beads of his vibranium necklace slide from one side to the other when he tilted it, “I don’t need it either, but I drink it sometimes. I like the way it tastes.”

“That makes no sense!” Sadie protested, her voice rising two octaves, “What the hell does water taste like?”

“When you spend five hundred years surrounded by saltwater you realize that any other type of water does have a taste.”

After pondering his statement for a few seconds, Mercedes suddenly started to laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. She had folded her arms on top of the table and her head was nestled between them, but then she lifted it and laughed while looking at Namor through a few strands of her hair.

“Has anyone ever told you that you can be insufferably pretentious sometimes?”

He was sitting on another chair closer to the wall, leaning against it. The alcohol had warmed him up, so he had placed the teal shawl that he’d been wearing and on top of his knees, carefully folded. From where she was sitting, Mercedes could admire the beautiful embroidery work and wondered what kind of material it was made of, and whether it was as soft as the clothes they gave her. He was a warrior, and his rough vibranium chest piece seemed more fitting for his brash personality. However, right then he didn’t look like a warrior. The warm light of the shelter shimmered in his eyes, and a drowsy smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

“My cousin. All the time,” He replied to her question, emphasizing every word of the last sentence.

“I think she’s right,” Sadie sighed, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand, “I’m a terrible influence on you.”

“Did she say that?” Namor asked, slightly furrowing his eyebrows like he did whenever he was upset.

“It was more complicated than that,” Mercedes said dismissively, “And I get it, you are their leader and not my friend and it wouldn’t look good for you to…you know…fraternize with the enemy,”

“I thought I’d told you I’m not your enemy,” Namor protested, standing up and unsteadily making his way toward her despite his best efforts to walk normally. Finally, he managed to reach the table and dropped himself on a step next to her. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t fraternize with you,”

“Alright, then maybe I shouldn’t fraternize with you,” Mercedes protested, poking his chest with her finger to further accentuate her words, “Where I come from, there’s a word for people who form emotional bonds with their kidnappers, you know?”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” He replied, to which Sadie looked at him with raised eyebrows, “What? Did you think I only read ancient manuscripts?”

That made her laugh again. However, it was more like a repressed snicker followed by a deep sigh. After a few minutes, Namor turned to look at her and gently grabbed her shoulder.

“Mercedes…I’m sorry, I don’t remember your last name right now,” He said, once again chuckling, and maintaining eye contact, “I would like to be your friend.”

He was close enough for her to be able to smell his breath. It smelled like alcohol, but there was also a hint of the honey that the liquor contained, along with something vaguely floral.

“Sure, why not?” She replied with a shrug, turning her head back to the front and leaning back against the wall.

“Are you sure it’s not Stockholm Syndrome?” He asked jokingly. She shook her head negatively.

“No. I still think you’re a narcissistic idiot.”

“That’s a new one,”

When Mercedes turned to her right once more, she realized Namor had fallen asleep, so she stood up as quietly as she could and walked towards the exit.

“Xmeech? Where are you going?” Namor’s voice stopped her.

“I better get going,” Sadie replied with a yawn, “I need some sleep before I wake up with my worst hangover in a while. I’ll see you later, kän-än.”

He repeated the word quietly, not understanding it. Before he could ask, Mercedes continued.

“You can’t be Namor anymore, can you? And K’uk’ulkan can get too formal.”

She lifted her hand to pull back a strand of hair and her fingers found the handle of the brush she’d used as a hairpin earlier. Apologizing, Mercedes was about to pluck it out to give it back until Namor stopped her.

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it.”

With a subtle smile and a nod, Mercedes left the room and disappeared among the halls.

Mercedes was right about the hangover part. Namor woke up what felt like days later with his mouth uncomfortably dry and sticky, a pulsing ache coursing through his entire skull and blurry memories of the conversation held hours before. He replayed whatever he could remember in his brain, dreadfully waiting for the embarrassment he was sure would come. Except it didn’t. All he felt was warmth all over his chest, unsure of whether it was because of the remnants of alcohol in his blood. Still, he felt compelled to apologize to Mercedes for whatever he might’ve said, or even worse, done in that state.

So, slowly as to not cause himself any further pain by tripping or something, he made his way to her room.

“Mercedes? It’s me. Are you awake?” He called from the other side of the tapestry, receiving no answer. The poor thing was probably in as much pain as he was. Namor was about to turn around and come back later when he realized something.

Not a single sound was coming from inside the room.

Not a single painful groan, or snoring, and not even her soft breathing.

Carefully pushing the fabric aside, he stepped into the room. At first glance, everything seemed normal. However, one detail caught his attention and froze him in place. Every single piece of clothing they’d given her during her stay was neatly folded and placed on the table, and right atop rested the brush he’d told her to keep.

Namor, having almost forgotten his own pain, rushed back to the room where they kept the suits to find his worst assumptions confirmed.

There was an empty spot next to the only suit left.

The Translations

Chiꞌ Chꞌeꞌen Its Jaꞌ: Also known as "Chichén Itzá", one of the main cities of the Mayan culture located in the Mexican state of Yucatán.

Kän-än: Guardian. This is Lacandon Mayan from the state of Chiapas as opposed to Yucatec Mayan, which explains why Namor is unfamiliar with the word.

[laurenreneelca]

Hi Friends - welcome to my page :) todays message has come to me before bed and I’m grateful you’re here to read it :)

My question to ask others: what am I closing myself off from receiving?

Am I closing myself off from love from the universe?

Am I open to receiving gifts, opportunities and new experiences?

These things can be material - but for me I am specifically focusing on the spiritual and internal experiences from the present moment.

When I connect with my breath - I connect with God. To me breath is life - breath is God - God is breath and God is life. It is what keeps us alive and Guides us. It’s not just an action for mindfulness but a navigation system my body has to drop me into the other minds in my body - the heart mind and the gut mind.

The heart mind is my higher self and the gut mind is my immediate intuition. When I tune into my heart and my gut I can tell if the feeling I get is positive or negative - if it’s negative the feeling will alert me to pause and walk away, exit, and leave the situation. Therefore in this instance the breath literally saves me.

For example when I stop and breath - and tune in - and I feel uneasy - I go back to my mind and think - first is this my energy of uneasiness or is it the person I’m with, the place I’m at, or the situation I’m in.

Then I can separate myself from the situation - and take the space to recognize it was either someone else’s energy and not mine to carry, not a good place for me, or it triggered me into something I need to address myself. This helps me move through life with ease - because I know these tools with God are always with me/

It’s become second nature to the point it takes about 4 seconds of inhale and 4 seconds of exhale to immediately tune in — and if I can’t leave - I can tune out and allow my body to deactivate from the negative response. This is emotional cognition of self.

When someone else around me is activated and I am in the position of “calming” or de-escalating - I first can let them get all the problem out. I let the person speak freely and openly - and then I validate - and the question I always ask is what do you think you should do - can you give yourself grace in this moment to understand yourself and what you’re going through better - and be okay with the fact that you are frustrated - let the individual find their own solution because 10/10 times they already know the answer - and just need someone to listen and say it’s okay.

So today - out of everything discussed and learning how to gauge your emotional natures - how can you move around in life the way you want to? What word would you best want to describe your demeanor? How can you embody it?

I like to look up the frequency/sound of the level of feeling I want

Most of the time I reach right for the abundance frequency of 888 hz. This gives me auditory activity that allows my mind to cognitively process the vibration of abundance. After repeating daily, this sound immediately brings me to a state of peace and positivity - because I know when I play this sound that I’m ready to focus on getting myself spiritually aligned.

This is also a gratitude frequency. When we thank th universe for the experiences it gives us, it will give us more and more of those experiences bc we now have acknowledged the gift of the present experience and when we acknowledge the gift - we are in direct communication with the universe and God. This is saying to the universe - “thank you for this moment - it feels like a blessing, a gift, and a beautiful moment.” And the universe will keep affirming that acknowledgement with more of those moments.

When an unpleasant experience visits us, we can simply say - thank you universe - show me what you want me to learn 🙏🏼 this has been a great day and I hope you continue to learn alongside me as I write my channeled lessons here on my page.

Sweet dreams

Lauren

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 16)

(*E/N: Sorry, make-out chapter is tomorrow; I have to feed Novel Updates today. Please bear with.)

Usually, people failed at pretending to be unconscious, especially if the person they were trying to fool was as close as Cassis and I were. This was because there was a slight- but noticeable- difference between the breathing pattern of a person who was conscious, compared to one who wasn’t.

Despite this knowledge, I couldn’t tell if Cassis was indeed conscious- he was still lying quietly with his eyes closed, exhaling soundless breaths. I studied him for a while, but his expression and general demeanour remained unchanged.

Hmm… “It may be funny to say this to an unconscious person earlier,” I murmured, “But I’m sorry I couldn’t stop my father earlier.”

It didn’t matter if Cassis was truly unconscious, but it would’ve been nice if he weren’t, so he could listen to what I was saying.

“But it won’t happen again. Now that you belong to me, no one else can touch you.” In this family, nominal titles mattered more than ever. Even Lanche couldn’t touch Cassis if he wanted to.

I gently stroked Cassis’ head again. “I’ll definitely help you get out of here.” I wasn’t sure if my words were directed as encouragements toward Cassis or myself. Can I really manage to help him escape?

Cassis’ appearance at House Agriche had created countless doubts and questions that lingered in my head. Of course, they were all unconfirmed and unanswerable.

* * *

As Roxana suspected, Cassis was conscious when she visited him- he hadn’t even fainted in the first place.

“My shoes are dirty.” After finalizing Roxana’s ownership of Cassis, Lanche Agriche called for a nearby soldier. “Wipe it.”

“Yes, Master.” The man ran up, kneeling to wipe Lanche’s shoes with the hem of his shirt. He looked like a well-trained slave, rather than a soldier.

This display of excessive servitude made Cassis sick with disgust.

He waited until Lanche Agriche left, before finally acknowledging the pain he was in. He pretended to faint.

* * *

“Who even is this guy? To think that even Master would make an appearance.” The soldier supporting Cassis’ right half spoke, voice bubbling with curiosity.

‘I guess it’s rare for Lanche Agriche to publicly torture his captives,’ Cassis thought.

“Quit it.” The soldier to Cassis’ left replied. “It’s not for people like us to care. Whatever- if he’s already in such a state during his arrival at House Agriche, he’s not going to be leaving alive.”

The two soldiers paid no heed to Cassis, who was keeping track of the guards’ walking paths and patterns to map out the structure of the mansion in his head.

Even in such an injured state, it wouldn’t be difficult to deal with these two men and escape. However, he couldn’t be sure of the nearest exit.

Moreover, his vision hadn’t fully recovered, and everything was still a little blurry. If he’d been tortured with poison instead of magic, his recovery would have been so much faster.

In this current state, it would be impossible to escape without getting caught. However, Cassis was unsure if there would ever be such an opportune situation as the one he was in right now, and didn’t give up his scheming.

“Isn’t this the first time that Miss Roxana’s taken a toy?”

“She’d probably the best master; if this guy had belonged to another kid, his organs would have been gorged out after a few days- he’d be their hunting dogs’ next meal.”

The name fluttered into his ear- Roxana Agriche.

Cassis had been slightly surprised when he learned that the girl in the dungeon had been Lanche Agriche’s daughter.

However, her saving him only introduced more questions- he didn’t feel deceived and confused by the whole situation, but then again one could only feel deceived if one had trusted in the first place. And he didn’t trust Roxana in the slightly.

Yes, it was much better when his vision was completely blurry, and he had to keep his guard up all the time because he didn’t know who was approaching.

Of course, Roxana’s words had created a most lasting impression on him. ‘I’ll educate this toy well and do my best not to disappoint you, Father.’ Those were her words- that was her promise, and yet- ‘Until you escape this place I’ll protect you.’

Only Roxana would know which of the two promises were true.

At the same moment, Cassis felt a fourth presence approaching the trio; he closed his eyes tighter.

“Oh, hello, Madam.” The men supporting Cassis greeted nervously.

‘She’s a mother of Agriche?’ Cassis thought, frowning slightly at the appearance of this unexpected visitor. ‘Come to think of it, I hear that Agriche has a considerable amount of children.’ Unlike the Pedelian children, who only had one mother, Lanche had taken many wives.

“That child… is he dead?” The woman’s voice was of an exceptionally feeble tone- Cassis would never have expected such a voice to come from a member of the Agriche family. ‘I suppose I am covered in enough blood to be considered a corpse, though.’

“No, he’s just passed out…”

“… But what are you doing here? Are you here to visit Lady Roxana?” The men spoke quickly to change the topic of conversation. They seemed reluctant to explain Cassis’ situation in more detail; judging by this reaction, it was likely that she wasn’t used to, or comfortable with, the sight of blood.

Cassis recalled the soldier’s question. ‘Roxana? ... Is this woman Roxana’s mother?’

“I heard that Xana is taking a toy. May I see it?”

“… This is Lady Roxana’s toy.”

“This child?”

‘Toy’… It was a label that made Cassis uncomfortable.

“But how could Xana let this child get like this?!” She asked in disbelief.

“No, this wasn’t done by Lady Roxana, but Master.”

The woman let out a sharp exhale, audibly relieved at the solider’s words. The strange tension emanating from the two soldiers also disappeared.

Soon after, another set of light footsteps was heard.  

[naerwenia]

Prey on the Meek

A short drabble inspired by the thought of Grand Moff Tarkin enjoying predator/prey play, and I’m probably going to elaborate on that, but wanted to get this short thought out of my system first. 

In the end, I didn’t name Tarkin in this, only using he when talking about him, so it could be anyone you want. It’s also a gender neutral reader insert fic. Includes violence and death. Otherwise, enjoy!

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

You had no idea how you got here, but it seemed like the best decision to make at the time. There was a list of things you could have done differently, could have planned better, but when the price was your freedom, it seemed like the best thing to get as far away from him as possible. But when the cargo ship made an unscheduled landing on a small mining planet to check the engine, you saw an opportunity in staying there for a day, before you found a local transport company with a shuttle for short trips and got a lift to another planet. You were taken in by a grandma, who shared stories of her youth with you, giving you a bed and upkeep in exchange for your help.

 After a week, she made you board the same ship you came with, making you go to Chandrila. The old woman had been a spy in her youth, and knew the best place to be was just under their noses, in a place they could not touch you. With a short letter and a package of treats and gifts you boarded the small shuttle once again, waving goodbye. You felt confident for the first time during this chase, but you knew he must be close, as he knew you better than you knew yourself. A forest planet was his playground, he could track anything and anyone there, but a city might give an advantage, if you made it that far.

A sudden flash, a bang, and metal ripping, descending to the planet at a speed you were sure would kill you, but you were alive when you opened your eyes again. Your pilot, however, had died, but not from the crash, but a blaster shot through the head. This was the end of the game, you knew. You were found. You started to cry, but every breath you took hurt, especially when crying uncontrollably. You had no chance of winning from the start, just an empty promise from his lips. Still, you tried, and failed. 

Getting up was the hard part, but when you knew your legs were working, you stumbled to the emergency exit, holding your sides, crying with every step. Your gaze was cast down as you emerged from the wreck, and you could feel his eyes on you. You knew he wouldn’t be happy, so all you could do to mitigate the anger was to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness. 

“You shouldn’t have trusted anyone”, was all he wanted to say, and with his bloody boot he kicked you on your back, making you wince out of pain, but before you could try to get back up or even shield yourself, he kicked your side. Crying out in pain, snot all over your face, you knew his soldiers were watching you too. Blood was running down your face, your lip was open and the cold air wasn’t helping you feel any better, only making you shiver more. 

Rather than just leaving you on the ground, watching you suffer, he put his boot on your neck, but didn’t put all his weight on it, only doing it to make you stop moving. There was no doubt in your mind that he would crush your neck without hesitation if you displeased him once again, so all you could do was stay still, look him in the eyes, and ask his forgiveness. You begged, begged like you had never done before, only looking to please and appease him. You thanked stars and the Maker when he removed his foot from your neck, but only thanked him aloud. 

“Take care of her, doctor, let there be no sign she had to suffer through the crash, and then bring her back to me. Find the gift package in the wreckage and bring it to me, it should contain the info I was looking for”.