#I'm inevitably going to notice errors

[monarchberrysblog]

Hmo but

What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏

Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink

INTERLINKED

credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!

✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭

✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.

He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.

Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.

But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.

Then, you met Miguel.

Another man from another dimension.

Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.

And you love it.

/

“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.

Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.

“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”

“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”

“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t.”

/

You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”

It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”

Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”

Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”

Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.

While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”

Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.

“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.

/

“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.

“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.

“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”

“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.

“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”

A little, just a little?

“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.

“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.

“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.

/

“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.

“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.

"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.

"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."

The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.

"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.

A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.

“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.

“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.

“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.

“I want us to be in here for a moment.”

/

The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.

“I told you to keep it down.”

[sydneymykah]

☆MY FASHION ICONS☆

How to turn influence into originality

I think everyone should have at least 2 - 3 different fashion icons. Whether it's an artist, model, designer, fictional character or even cartoon. It's these influences that can help build upon your own fashion sense and style. Relating and gravitating towards certain people can help us decide how we want to present ourselves to the world. Help us find our inner confidence shine through to the physical. Taking bits and pieces from other influences to make something completely your own.

This post is in three sections

1. How finding your influences can help you find your style

2. My icons and their style

3. How I use their influence to find my own original style

(Also I use fashion icon and style icon interchangeably. The basis is just someone who’s fashionable and has a style you feel inspired by)

Lets get into it

FINDING INFLUENCE

Maybe you watched a movie when you were younger and a character dawned an outfit that has stuck with you forever. A specific show or movie has stayed with you simply because of the fashion alone. You discovered that you would give anything to dress like the people you grew up seeing on your screens. To a celebrity's iconic street style or a characters impeccable fashion choices. What we naturally gravitate towards is what inevitably ends up being our main influence. Knowing what we are inspired by helps us figure out how we want to represent ourselves. Today I'm focusing on fashion and style.

If you're someone who wants to figure out what inspires you I'd suggest to go explore all genres of films and tv. Regardless the decade I bet you, you will find a movie or show that resonates with you in terms of fashion/style and aesthetics. Pinterest of course is also an amazing place to look for inspo. Especially if you already have an idea of what you want but need expanding upon it. Environment also affects inspiration. I've seen people's style and how they express themselves completely change because they moved abroad or just simply to a new city. I hope people who read this who are in an environment who cant express themselves the way they want are able to find a place for them someday. If you cant find an environment physically, I'd suggest finding one online. Twitter communities, Tumblr and discord servers pertaining to your interests can help you extremely.

Now, people might struggle to take what inspires them and make something of their own without looking like a straight up carbon copy. Not knowing how to build a style and not look like they're wearing a costume. What I've found to be helpful is to start off by noticing patterns with how your influences dress. If one is a celebrity you can probably find interviews of them talking about the style you're trying to implicate. If it's a character(s) there's a high chance there are YouTube videos and even tiktoks dissecting their style. The best part about this is that you can pick and choose what you like and what you want to try out.

That is also how you eventually find your own style through influence. You have to do things through trial and error. I know that makes people wince because they don't want to look ridiculous but it's true. The main thing you need is confidence. And if you don’t have that fake it till you make it sis. I can think of many people and celebrities who started off one way and evolved into the icons they are today. To people like Rihanna, Bella Hadid, and Sabrina Carpenter. Even with them you can see what influences their style. Rihanna (who has gone through many fashion phases) once being very heavily influenced by 80's UK British punk rock style and Americana. Bella recently being influenced by vaquero and cowgirl chic fashion because of her current cowboy boyfriend Adan Banuelos. Sabrina being very influenced by baby doll aesthetics, lingerie, and 60's style of clothing. You can see with all of their influences they're able to make it theirs. Of course they have stylists to help them(not to take away from their own creativeness) but you can still find ways to help yourself.

Even I am in the trial and error stage. Finding out what I like and what my current influences wear that I want to try too. What helps me is making mood boards and finding pieces that look similar to the ones my inspirations wear. It’s important to note that just buying statement pieces won’t help you build style because it’s harder to create different outfits with them. Basics are VITAL. So don’t overlook them when dissecting your influences. Let me show you how I dissect the patterns and fashion sense my fashion icons have and how I use these as blueprints in figuring out how I want to style myself.

MY ICONS

FRAN FINE

Played by the fabulous Fran Dresher, Fran Fine was the main character in the extremely popular and iconic sitcom of the 90's "The Nanny". Fran being a flashy girl from Flushing Queens who stumbles into a nanny job taking care of rich bachelor Maxwell Sheffield's three kids. The shows main plot is the will they won't they dynamic between Fran and Mr. Sheffield and how unconventional of a nanny Fran is.

Her unconventional yet charming nature reflects in her many iconic outfits. Many pieces being traditionally sophisticated like blazers and turtlenecks are made more flirty and tempting with mini skirts. Frans style didn't shy away from any sort of color, texture or pattern. Wearing things that range from a brick pantsuit, a rainbow sequined strap dress, tiger print blazer and mini skirt set, many bright colored fur coats, and full vinyl and leather matching sets. Her main inspo to her fashion seems to take from 60’s and mod fashion trends. Especially with her big hair and headbands being her main choice of accessory.

Frans typical silhouette would consist of some sort of turtleneck or vest. If she wore a vest it'd usually would have some sort of blouse underneath (collared or another turtleneck). Her bottoms would either be fitted pants, a mini skirt, or a mini dress. Frans signature shoe was a classic pump heel and would usually wear some sort of stocking or tights with them. (usually black) Occasionally she'd switch out the pumps for a boot that would either be reminiscent of 60's mod or just a regular heeled boot. Fran loved a matching set so typically her skirts would usually match her jackets. Her jackets typically being cropped or regular sized blazers. A lot of them being fur trimmed.

CHER

Cher is a famous musician, actress and Tv host. She was the IT girl of the 70's deemed " Goddess of Pop" and was known muse for the incredible Bob Mackie, one of my favorite fashion designers.

Cher was known for her impeccable and ground breaking style. She was unique and was never afraid to dress outside the box. Proudly showing off her stomach and wearing very risqué mesh outfits. Cher's approach to fashion was like a hybrid of bohemian, Disco and old Hollywood glamour. The main thing I think of when it comes to Cher is how she was almost always decked out in sequins and diamonds. Forever sparkling and shining in the cameras. Looking like a colorful disco ball. Cher was also known to not shy away from feathers, furs, and metallics. Considering she can technically be considered a showgirl and had her own popular show filled with musical numbers it makes sense for her to wear that sort of fashion.

Cher's classic silhouette was usually some sort of form fitting, skin showing dress or two piece. She would start off covered in some sort of shawl or jacket that was usually fur or covered in feathers. Then she would reveal her outfit. Typically the outfit would show some a lot of skin, usually her stomach, chest and arms. She was almost aways wearing cross body dresses and tops. a top that would wrap around Chers chest but still show off her core and arms. If Cher wasn't wearing a dress with this type of top she was wearing flared disco pants/Bell bottoms. Similar to Fran, Cher never strayed from interesting patterns and designs. Both very flashy and fashion forward women who knew how to light up a room with just their style alone.

JEM

Jem, from the 80’s cartoon "Jem and the Holograms" is the lead singer of her pop rock band of the same name. Not only that but she’s also secretly Jerrica Benton, the groups manager and owner of her late father's record label starlight music. Jem's 80's fashion can only be described as truly outrageous along with her big pink hair.

Jem of the Holograms was a unique show not only for its premise but because the main cast almost always had a new outfit every episode. Jem didn’t have a consistent silhouette but her outfits were adjacent or the inverse to her alter self. Jerrica being more conservative and covered while jem was more flashy and glamourous. Like a rock star should. One thing consistent with jem were her colors. Pink being her iconic color along with purple, light blue, fuchsia, and yellow.

Jem wore everything from pant suits, bodycon dresses, ball gowns, evening gowns, trench coats, matching sets, and bodysuits. All with 80’s trends like shoulder pads, fingerless gloves, popped collars, patterns like polka dots, layered necklaces, and mini skirts (one reminiscent of tutus artists like Cyndi Lauper and Madonna would wear) The one accessory that stays consistent with her is her gem star earrings and if you notice in the show are the bands symbol. In many of her outfits she dawns a star shape or pattern

*Note that not just Jem inspires my fashion tastes in the show but other characters as well. The other person inspiring me second to her is her antagonist Pizzazz who I've opted as my alter ego. especially considering Jem wears pink and Pizzazz wears green, (opposite colors)

CREATING YOUR OWN STYLE

If it’s not obvious based off the three examples I gave, I like dressing like the brightest thing in the room. The star. The showgirl. The main character of you will. I like to be dressed up even if I’m the only one doing so. So naturally I gravitate to people (or characters) who dress like that. Showgirls like Lola Falana and Josephine Baker inspire me too. Now what I do is take the inspirations and make a mood board. You might've seen my "The Vibe I Bring to the Function" post. That is one example. I've created many moldboards of the type of style I want to have. By taking those influences I notice the similarities between them then make a base line. Here's what I've noticed with mine:

Sequins and rhinestones

Feathers and fur

Leather/Vinyl

Figure hugging

Skin showing

Bodysuits

Turtlenecks

Fitted Blazers/Suits

Flared pants/Bell Bottoms

Matching skirt/pants and jacket sets

Animal Print

Bold Prints/Patterns

Cross body/Halter tops

Bold and bright colors

Then I take this andattribute it to what I know looks good on me. Like certain accessories. for example headbands and bamboo hoops (usually in gold). Speaking of you should also learn your colors. Coincidentally Jems colors are actually some of mine. Especially the color pink. But like I said above trial and error is how you soon figure out what works for you and what doesn't. I used to have a romper body suit once that was baggy with spaghetti straps. The pants were hemmed with elastic so it looked like sweatpants… That's when I realized that if I wanna wear a bodysuit it looks better if its form fitting and flared at the leg lol. Asking people what looks good on you helps a lot too. A lot of the stuff I figured out looks good on me is because I consulted some good friends. When it comes to my environment I'm in an astrology discord chat with some close friends and long story short I'm associated with peacocks so I consider that into my style as well. I'm also from the south so southern inspired outfits also intrigue me. I take this all and experiment with it. I currently have a bunch of animal prints in my close to a peacock corset to an orange velvet bellbottoms. This is only the beginning.

At the end of it all it comes down to experimenting, finding what looks good and realizing that what you gravitate towards. Learning to style yourself is as easy as looking up the basics on YouTube and building on from there. Your icons in fashion will help you get to the direction you want and one day you’ll see how much you’ve developed.

Also ALWAYS remember that you’re in charge here. You can change whenever and whatever you want. You don’t have to find your style and stick with it forever. Like I mentioned before Rihanna has been through multiple different fashion phases, we’re seeing the same with Doja cat as well. Your influences now can be completely different later. Whether it’s your environment or tastes that change. Whatever you find in life that influences you. So today I might be dressing like a 70's showgirl the next a man-eater vampire. Still me at the end of the day. And whoever your icons are, or whatever your inspired by at the end of it all should be reflection of how you want to express yourself.

✧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xoxo, Sydney Mykah -☆

[angellekookie]

IN THE NAME OF LOVE & OTHER THINGS | MYG - Royalty AU [oneshot]

Summary: In which you really tried not to fall for him, but some things are inevitable, and you're ready to give u everything to be with him.

Genre: Romance (and maybe a little agnst? bro idk this was an accident

WC: 1.6 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, if I'm being honest.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Note: Yall this drabble was naawt supposed to happen but since it did, let's call it either a prelude or a spoiler for another project I have in the works. It has not been beta read or checked for errors any at all. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading it nontheless, it was a fun distraction ^^

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @strangergraphics

You two were never to meet. Afterall, you were both from two different worlds that only ever intertwined in the shadows. You lived in ballgowns and politics, delicate hands never even having to feed yourself if you lack any such desire on a given day. He lived in stone and clay and plaster, calloused hands rumoured to be tinged with gold or magic because of how he could bring any material to life. 

You were the daughter of a Duke, and while he was indeed a prodigy, the most sought after artist in all the four kingdoms, that didn’t mean the public would take too kindly to a relationship or marriage between you. It would never work.

It’s what you’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell him that whatever it was between you two had to end. There was no future for it, nothing to look forward to.

So why did you fall in love with him? Just when did you manage to fall for the Hands of Midas himself?

You wondered if it was between the silences you’ve shared, as he was a man of few words. Or maybe it was the dedication and focus he had when he was working. Perhaps, one too many instances of you watching him work on the sculptures your father commissioned for the parlour. Nights where you hoped, prayed, wished and even went as far as risking your dignity to beg and plead with the skies if they could make you marble or clay or anything just once. How his hands moved creating lines and shadows, bringing new life to every area he touched - it made you wonder if he could bring a new life to you too. 

You heard him laugh exactly once, but you vividly remember every smile and you secretly wished they were all for you.

If only you knew that Min Yoongi had saved every smile for you. 

He never wanted to be sponsored by the Duke. He didn’t want anything to do with any of the nobles. He’d wanted to stay home, with his family. All he knew for his entire life was art. His mother’s singing, his father’s painting and his own love for sculpting. He was always quiet, observing the world around him and seeing every flaw. But Yoongi thought they were beautiful, so he used his hands to create the world that he sees, the one he loves. He didn’t need anything else. But going to stay with a wealthy family would be good for his own family. He’d get a great education, a place to stay and of course, he could sculpt whenever his heart desired- that’s what his mother told him as she sent him off on the carriage when he was younger.

Of course he missed his mother, cried for the first and last time the day he left. He was sure nothing could ever make leaving home worth it, wanted to curse the Duke and everything he stood for ripping him away from his recently widowed mother. Oh how that quickly changed when a girl with the kindest eyes and the biggest and brightest eyes ran out just as he was getting out of the carriage at the duchy. He noticed the dirt on her cheeks, how she seemed unbothered; happy. How she dragged along who he would correctly assume was a younger sibling- though she expressed more discomfort at whatever she was unwillingly being volunteered into. 

Being sponsored by the Duke had its perks, though. Yoongi would get to spend his days learning whatever they thought he needed academically, and as soon as that was done he’d get to bask in the glow of his art and his loyal audience of exactly one. Just as he would trace the lines on his current project, you would be tracing him. Of course, he couldn’t help the smiles he desperately tried to suppress whenever you were around. That was the only thing that could happen between you two, he knew that. You and him could never happen, surely such a pairing would be doomed from the start. He could only ever dare to reach out to you in his most wretched dreams. That was as far as he would go.

That was how far he thought he would have gone until that day between the marble and the roses things went just a bit too far. Spilled wine, whispered confessions and shared desire broke years of silence and tension. Suddenly, the spectator was the centre of attention. Though Yoongi didn't miss the opportunity that you had always been the star in his eyes. A star he never thought he’d ever get to hold in his hands, despite the risk of being burnt.

The risk was great. He knew it and so did you. 

And yet you would find yourself wrapped up in Yoongi always, somehow. You loved him, you were sure. So what if the risk was drowning? Whatever great thing that you were born to accomplish in this life couldn’t compare to loving him, being loved by him. 

Your mother, ever the noble lady she tried to raise you to be, asked you if you were sure that this was what you wanted to do. Left without a word to speak to your father, you presumed. You knew what it would come down to at the end of the day, knew that surely you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. 

Your father was always the kind of man to talk about duty and honour. Never failing to tell you and your sister the importance of the roles you were born in. He’d always encouraged you both that being a leader in any sense of the word, was to be wise both in mind and the heart. You were in his office with your sister when he told you that knowledge was just a blade without the handle of wisdom. You were also in his office whenever he scolded you for something like missing lessons with the governess (again) or whenever he praised you for a beautiful painting you made.

This time, you sat stood before him, too scared, too nervous for the outcome. Hoping the ‘But father, I love him’ you were holding on your tongue would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping that you didn’t break down and cry and beg and plead for him to let you go. That you really tried not to fall for him, but some things were inevitable. You had so much to say in your defense. All ready to run away should they decide to lock you up in the duchy forever or marry you off to some old widower. You weren’t prepared for when your father took your own hand in his, and looked at you with something that you truly did not have the words to describe. “Are you truly serious about this? Do you love him, ___?”

“With everything,” The tears you planned to use and beg were now threatening to make an appearance for a whole different reason. “I don’t want to have to live a life knowing I gave up the chance to love him.” You sat at his feet like you used to when you were much smaller. “I know you’re disappointed in me and that I’ve let you down but father, I’m-” 

You never got to apologise. Not when your father told you you had nothing to apologise for, that he knows this must have meant a lot to you since you actually wanted to apologise for breaking the rules this time. He hugged you and told you he’d already spoken to Yoongi, that you both shouldn’t just run away, that he’d take care of everything- that he could make sure you were safe one last time. What could you have possibly done, except cry while your father held you for the first time in a long time, for the last time in a long time. 

It’s how you found yourself still crying in the arms of your younger sister. You had come to tell her that you had made your mind up, you came to tell her goodbye.

Evening came, stealing away the daylight, but also bringing the time you were to leave everything familiar and dear to you behind. You were still in your sister’s room, head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked her fingers through your hair. It was almost as if she was the older one today, but then again- she was always the more composed of the two of you. You were leaving her with a heavy burden, a great responsibility. But you knew that she could handle it much better than you ever would, with much more grace than you could even think to imagine.

“What is love, that you’re so willing to give everything up like this?” You took some time before answering your sister’s question, only to put your thoughts together. 

“Love is something that knocks on your door at odd hours in the night. It warms your cheeks when you're out during the day, it chases you through meadows- it’s an adventure that comes to find you when it knows you're ready to sacrifice everything to chase it. Eventually, you’ll find yourself where love  rests.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me even more confused than I was three minutes ago…” She looked at you, the sad smile not reaching her eyes.

“One day, you will find love, and find yourself, and find your answer.” That’s what you told her as you embraced her for the last time for a long time.

You yourself often wondered what love was. But in the carriage your father arranged for you the night you left home, in the place you now live with a man you were convinced was born from your dreams, in the letters you exchange with your sister ever so often… You can safely say you found it.

AN: Thanks again for reading everyone, feedback is always appreciated 😘.

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @peoniesnro

[demonpiratehuntress]

the best gift is you

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - You're having an incredibly difficult time finding an appropriate birthday present for Zoro.

Warnings - none, i think? I just wrote this right after hosting a soccer festival for an orphanage at my club, so I'm pretty much dead but wanted to get something out for my favourite Straw Hat's birthday <3 please excuse any errors, and happy birthday Zoro <3 <3 <3

"Usopp! Come with me."

You were just dragging the confused and slightly startled sharpshooter - because why did you want him to go shopping with you? - across the deck when you heard your boyfriend call out to you.

"Where are you going?"

You froze, having not expected him to be up from his nap so soon, "Um, grocery shopping?"

He frowned, "I can go with you."

"No!" You said quickly, then backtracked when you noticed how he became even more confused - and slightly hurt. "I mean, sorry babe but I really need Usopp's help with this specific trip."

This only confused the swordsman more, but before he could argue you were pulling the blabbering, protesting Usopp off the ship and into the small town. You could explain later, and make it up with the present, because you wanted this to be a surprise.

Zoro was left more puzzled than ever, wondering why you didn't even want him to go with for protection. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, so he guessed you must have your reasons. Then it hit him.

Oh...no.

"You two fighting or something?" Sanji asked from above.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Was Zoro's snarky response, coupled with an annoyed eyeroll. Sanji scoffed, but even he knew better than to further antagonise the already upset swordsman.

A few hours later...

"Ugh! Why is this so hard?!"

Your frustrated protest alarmed your crewmate, who had been eyeing a pair of sniper goggles at a nearby stand. You were practically pulling your hair out, on the verge of hot, angry tears, and your bottom lip was trembling.

"I can't go back without one!"

"You still haven't told me exactly what we're looking for," Usopp reminded you.

"Something Zoro would like," you sighed, "Or need. But there's nothing here. And it's almost dark out."

"Can't you just find something at the next island?"

"No! It has to be today, it has to..." You trailed off, biting your lip and trying your hardest to hold back tears.

"Why?"

"I...Because it has to."

You'd spent the last few hours scouring every shop on this island, but you had no idea what to get your boyfriend. He already had everything he needed, and there was nothing he wanted to your knowledge, so he was pretty difficult to shop for. He wasn't a typical boyfriend, that much you knew, so matching chains or charms wouldn't be appropriate. It was bugging you so much that you wanted to cry.

"Let's get back to the ship."

You took off before Usopp could question you, so he just followed without a word. Your behaviour baffled him, and slightly worried him, but he wasn't going to press any more if you didn't want to tell him. When you both got back to the ship, the green-haired swordsman was anxiously pacing the deck - the first time Usopp had seen him this nervous. The first time any of them - minus you - had seen him this nervous. But when you boarded, he breathed a sigh of relief.

His relief quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your eyes glistening with tears, and within seconds he was in front of you, hands gripping your forearms gently.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," you choked out, the tears free-falling. "I couldn't find anything. I looked everywhere. I looked so hard. I don't know...I didn't...I'm sorry..." You tried to wipe your tears away, but he beat you to it.

Usopp was long gone, not sticking around to see yours and Zoro's inevitable affection - the rest of the crew seemed allergic to your displays. So Zoro pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He reached up with one hand to brush the tears falling away, his expression softening.

"Hey," he spoke softly, "Look at me." He continued only once you met his gaze, "I don't need anything. I don't want anything. You are enough, okay? More than enough, actually. You don't need to get me anything, because you've already given me the greatest gift in the world. You." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds.

A soft blush crossed your cheeks, the disappointment in you slowly deflating until it was nothing more than an afterthought. You sniffled as you smiled up at him, your body filling with warmth at his words - and at the look of absolute love and adoration he was blessing you with right now.

"I love you. You are all that I want, and all that I need. Don't ever apologise for something as silly as a birthday gift."

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours and he was locking you in the most loving, passionate kiss he had ever given you. He was trying to convey his message through the kiss, proving that you were all he craved. Proving that you were his favourite gift of all.

"I love you too," you smiled even more when he pulled away to let you breathe - ironically you were breathless.

"Good, now can we please go and sleep?"

You laughed, allowing him to pick you up and carry you off to bed.

"Whatever the birthday boy wants."

"Whatever I want, huh?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep!"

"...Changed my mind."

[alwaysbemygoodgirl]

Delivery

It was his last delivery of the night. David pulled up in front of the ground floor apartment unit, carried the bag inside and up to the door, and rang the doorbell.

And waited.

And rang the doorbell again.

Finally the door opened. "Good evening, ma'am. I have your delivery. I'll just need to see some ID." The words were out of his mouth before he processed the state of the woman standing in front of him.

She was half dressed, in only a too-tight shirt and a pair of underwear, clinging to the door jamb, and looking up at him in a vain effort to focus her eyes. Her mouth hung open. "Huh?"

"ID. I'll need to see some ID for the booze you ordered."

"Oh. Booze. Right," she slurred. She let go of the doorjamb, then immediately grabbed onto it again. Hanging on by one hand, her body swayed away from the door jamb, then slammed back into it as she caught herself in time. The impact rippled through the mound of belly protruding below the bottom of her shirt, but she didn't seem to even feel it.

David stared openly at the drunk woman, realizing she was too far gone to notice him noticing her. She had long, loose blonde hair, fat cheeks, fat breasts, fat thighs, and a very vacant expression. Her eyes flew open momentarily, allowing him to see that they were blue, and then the lids sank again, barely open.

"Right," she said. With some difficulty, she managed to stagger a few steps to a table, pick up her purse, and stagger back to the doorway. There was a brief comedy of errors before he realized she was handing him the purse and expecting him to retrieve the ID.

Well, that was a level of coordination well beyond her capabilities right now. Obligingly, David set down the bag and retrieved her ID, acting slowly while he tried to think through his options.

"Katrina. That's a pretty name."

At the sound of her name, Katrina perked up a little bit and smiled. She had a sweet smile.

"Twenty-three years old, I see. Plenty legal. Been having a fun evening?"

"Yeah. Uh huh. I'm really drunk."

"I can see that, ma'am. The problem is that I'm not allowed to sell you booze if you're already drunk. So maybe you're just high?"

"Uh, yeah. I had a lot of edibles. Four. Or five? I don't remember." Katrina smiled winningly at him. "I'm not really that smart."

"I can see that too. And you're also really sweet and really pretty. And I want to sell you this booze. So maybe if you can pass a sobriety test, I can let you have it."

"Uh, okay. What do I need to do?" She was still clinging to the doorway, swaying with every involuntary jerk of her knees.

David looked up and down the hallway. It was empty.

"Well, can you come out into the hallway and walk in a straight line?"

"Uh...sure."

He took a few steps back. "Just come out here and walk over to me."

As Katrina swayed and staggered, banging into the wall and pushing off it again, leaning against and moving forward and backward again, David kept walking backwards, holding the bag with the two bottles. He kept going, slowly and steadily, until the drunk Katrina inevitably fell down.

He lunged in toward her, falling to his knees, and putting his arms around her. "Are you okay?!"

She leaned in against him. Or maybe that was just the involuntary swaying. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Can I have some booze? I need a--I need a drink."

"Well, I want to, sweetie, but you're drunk, and you didn't pass the sobriety test. I also remembered I've got to film you so I have proof you were sober and I don't get in trouble. You want to try again?"

Katrina let David help her to her feet and turn her around, and they walked back in the direction of her door. Him walking backwards and holding up his phone to film her, her giggling and swaying as she followed him.

She staggered past her open door without even noticing, just following him and the bag of booze he was carrying. Though she kept her feet this time, by dint of having figured out she needed to just lean against the wall the whole time, she stumbled when he came to an abrupt stop right at the door, and there was nothing to grab onto.

This time he caught her before she fell, and he stood there holding and steadying her.

"I need a drink."

"I know you need a drink, and I really want to give it to you, but I have to make sure you pass a sobriety test first. Maybe if I put my arms around you and help you walk, you can stay in a straight line."

"Okay!" she chirped.

"But we'll have to do it inside your apartment, because I don't want anyone seeing that I helped you so I could give you alcohol."

"Okay! You're soooo nice." It was hard to tell if she was trying to hug him or if she was just hanging on for balance, but her heavy body rubbing against his was irresistably soft.

"I really wanna help you."

Inside her apartment, David set down the booze on the counter, wrapped his arms around Katrina's body and walked across the room with her. The floor was covered in junk, food wrappers and empty chip bags and bottles, old clothes and discarded lipstick tubes, and that didn't help her stability much.

David let her struggle long enough that his arms had to get tighter and tighter around her just to keep her upright. Then he let her trip, still with him holding on to her from behind.

They sank in a pile to the floor together, Katrina ending up on David's lap. He patted her shoulder.

"I'm sooo drunk. I need a drink so bad, though."

"I know, sweetie, I'm going to help. Maybe we can come up with a different sobriety test."

At David's prompting, Katrina struggled to strap on her high heels, smeared lipstick across her face, failed to count backwards from 10, fell down when trying to touch her toes, collapsed in a giggling heap when trying to coordinate her limbs into a crab walk, and got stuck partway under the bed when trying to retrieve her shoe. And she cheerfully gave permission for David to film it all in the name of proving she was sober.

Finally she was sitting in his arms again, after he rescued her from under the bed and she complained she was dizzy.

"I want to give you a drink so bad, but you're so drunk you can't pass any of the sobriety tests even with help. I'm going to try to think of something else."

"Okay. You're so smart. And so nice."

David sat there and cuddled her until she started to whine about needing a drink. She obligingly fell silent again when he shushed her and said he was thinking.

The second time, he told her what his idea was.

"There are two things that can make you sober up faster. One is eating a lot of greasy junk food. That absorbs some of the alcohol. The other is taking a shower, because it wakes you up."

Katrina was absolutely thrilled at the prospect of stuffing her face with burgers and fries and doughnuts. She cuddled with David and giggled and moaned while he ordered on his phone and read the descriptions of the food aloud to her.

He didn't tell her he was ordering Twinkies and Ding-Dongs too, but she didn't seem to notice the omission and ate them just as eagerly when they arrived.

David kept making her eat and eat and eat, telling her it would sober her up faster and then she could have more booze. She ate until her stomach hurt, but he told her that once she could drink, it would stop hurting because she'd be so numb.

"Can I have a drink now?"

"Well, you've gotta pass the sobriety test first, remember?"

Practically in a food coma, Katrina couldn't even get her fat, lazy, drunken body up off the floor.

So David prompted her to crawl across the floor and into the shower. Fortunately, her apartment was just a studio, with a tiny kitchenette, so they didn't have far to go. He also convinced her that she should take the shower with her clothes on, so he could film her to prove she was sober. But also not ruin her regular clothes, so he coaxed her out of her shirt and into a piece of babydoll lingerie that was almost see-through.

Katrina went along with all of it, not even noticing the inconsistencies in his story. She was just really enthusiastically grateful for all the help.

Finally, soaking wet, stuffed full, and drunk as fuck, Katrina failed the sobriety tests again. She was almost ready to cry, but David hugged her reassuringly. "I've got an idea, sweetie. I can't sell you the alcohol you ordered, but I'm off work, and I can take you on a date where we can get as much booze as we want. What do you say to sitting in a convenience store parking lot and eating Twinkies and drinking alcohol until you pass out?"

**************

A year later, David and Katrina celebrated their anniversary by cuddling and watching videos on his phone. Katrina giggled at the sight of herself falling onto her face on the bed, then floundering like a beached whale. She was fatter now, but not so much that she would have attracted attention on the street if she'd been dressed properly and sober. What she was, was so drunk she would have attracted attention anywhere. As usual, David was holding her up so she didn't fall off the couch.

"You know what the first thing I really liked about you was?"

"Mmmm?" she mumbled, sucking at the wine bottle. David steadied her hand.

"That you were so dumb you didn't even know you should pretend to be sober when ordering alcohol. You just kept announcing how drunk you were. There was no way I could sell you alcohol, and also no way I could leave you alone. You needed someone to be smarter than you and take care of you."

"Yeeaahh," she sighed happily and not too articulately.

"Remember to drink some vodka with that, honey, it gets you drunker faster. It's amazing how dumb you are when you drink. I've never seen anything like it. I would marry you, but they don't let you apply for the license drunk or go through the ceremony drunk, so you'd have to sober up."

"Yeah," Katrina giggled, in between swigs of vodka. "I don't wanna be sober."

"And I'd rather have a drunk girlfriend than a sober wife." David squeezed her soft, unresisting body. "Don't forget to finish the pizza and breadsticks. Alcohol always makes you too stupid to remember when you last ate. You don't want to pass out because you forgot to eat."

Katrina couldn't answer, because she was stuffing her fat face.

"You've got brownies waiting when you're done with that, too, don't forget. My sweet, fat, lovable, forgetful girlfriend. Oh, and that's another reason I can't marry you. You're too fat to fit in any of your clothes any more, that's why you have to wear lingerie all the time. And even if I took you to get a wedding dress custom-tailored, you have to stand up while they take your measurements, and you're always too drunk to stand up straight."

"Yeah, I'm too drunk to get married."

"And fat," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I'm too fat," Katrina agreed, between bites. Then she giggled again, watching herself lying on her back in the shower, legs hanging out.

"You're so sweet and dumb and gullible. The first thing I loved about you was how dumb you were, and the thing I love most now is that you believe literally anything I tell you. I adore having an alcoholic girlfriend."

"Mmmm." Then, "Am I an alcoholic?"

"Yes, of course you are, sweetheart. And the alcohol makes you so stupid you don't even know what's going on most of the time. That's why we never go anywhere. I have to keep you home and take care of you and explain things to you, so you don't have to sober up. Have some more brownies, doll. Those are the ones that came with the pizza. Those ones will make you stupider."

Katrina obediently started eating from both piles of brownies.

"They go well with alcohol."

"Like me," she giggled. "I go well with alcohol."

[sturnzyolo]

I love you, I'm sorry.

Matt Sturniolo x Fem reader

Summary: "Guys & Girls can never just be friends" I used to think that was a lie, until I met you.

WARNINGS: love confession, bestfriends, fluff, kissing, lying, crying?, etc.

Matt & I have been bestfriends since middle school. It all started when I asked to borrow a calculator. Once I handed it back, he asked for help on the work, & as I tutored Matt, we connected more & more. He turned into my closest friend, the one person I could tell everything to, the only person I wanted by my side throughout it all.

Everything was the same for years, every morning Matt would pick me up and take me to school with his brothers, everday he would walk me to each class, he would eat lunch with me, and he would drive me back to his house to hangout before walking me back home.

Everyday was the same yet so different. I was close with Matt's whole family, but nobody could beat my bond with Matt. He was all I needed in life.

I always assumed life would continue this way until we all inevitably had to split, but I didn't see that happening anytime soon. They were like my family. Most people would think a girl can't be friends with guys without there being some kind of feelings or connection between them. I always denied that, I never pictured Matt in that way. He was my bestfriend, nothing more.

January 8th, 2024

I've noticed Matt start to hangout with me less and less, I had assumed he was just busy, especially with how his new YouTube career has been starting for the triplets. I was proud that they were going after their dreams, but I was a bit sad that I saw him less than usual.

I thought about this as I was getting ready for school, I wondered if it could be more than him just being busy.

My clouded mind soon cleared at the sound of my phone's notification, I quickly put down my makeup brush and picked up my phone to read the message.

(yes I got a whole app to do fake messages AND WHAT ABT IT.)

I was in slight shock to read the message, Matt always took me to school no matter what. The only times he didn't was for therapy but he hasn't gone before school in awhile.

I tried to not show him how much I cared about the change he's been showing. He was never so distant from me. Did I do something wrong? Was something going on with him? I let my mind run on the possibilities for what I had done for him to be treating me so much differently from before.

I got to school by walking since I was still saving up for my own car. I waited for Matt at the front doors, since we always walked from class to class together. He never showed, he must've went in through the back or gotten here before me. I went to each class alone or with any of my girl friends, although Nick took me to Spanish class. I was too scared to ask him about his brother's new behavior.

January 26th, 2024

Matt's act kept up for more than 2 weeks, I saw him and spoke to him less and less everyday. I didn't want to lose him like this, I didn't want to have to forget about him in a way that felt like I was forced to. I was honestly fed up with it, so I decided that I needed to text him, right now.

(you barely even look in my direction*) sorry guys I didn't see the error before

I rolled my eyes and slammed my phone screen down with a frustrated huff. It felt pointless even attempting to have a real conversation with Matt, and it was exhausting.

I watched the pouring rain outside my window. My thoughts wandered for atleast a half hour about Matt, I couldn't understand what went wrong, and I wanted to know so badly. All I wanted was my bestfriend again and he couldn't even have one genuine conversation with me.

My conflictions were abruptly cut short when a loud knock on my door came, at first I didn't want to even get up. It was probably some stupid sales person. Another knock came, I flipped over and looked at my phone 12:47 am who the fuck would be at my door this late!?

my question was quickly answered with a yell after another knock "Y/n please open up, it's Matt, come on its pouring" his voice made me quickly get up in disbelief as I ran downstairs.

I unlocked and slowly opened the door to see Matt in a disheveled state, his eyes were a light pink while his eyebags were swollen, his nose was red, his hair was wet and his clothes were drenched.

"Hey, look can I just come in, please?" Matt asked softly with a slight break of his voice, circling around the reason he was here

"You were just being a complete asshole, no, why are you even here, go home" I was upset and clearly didn't want to talk to him at all but seeing him like this hurt.

"Please y/n/n, I walked all the way here just to talk to you, just let me in." He pleaded with a sniffle from his nose

"Oh, so I have to let you in, when you don't even let me? You've been acting like a completely new person, you shouldn't be here, I mean you did say your life is more than just me." I said in an argumentative tone as I held my ground with a cold gaze over to him

"No, no, please y/n I didn't mean that, you know I didn't. I know I've been an asshole but.. I can't keep lying to myself, and lying to you. I couldn't see you and talk to you because it was destroying me y/n/n." Matt muttered with stumbles over his words, he anxiously fiddled with his fingernails.

"Why, what did I do? What have you been lying about, because it's been killing me, you've been a dick to me and have been treating me like I'm nothing, so what the fuck did I do to deserve that!?" I said angrily with my tone growing louder

"Nothing! Nothing y/n, you're perfect to me. you make me utterly speechless sometimes but it kills me that I can't have you. I know you've never seen me as more as just your bestfriend, but I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you, I know it sounds fucking crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, I was lying saying my life is more than just you, because you're all I need in my life other than my family, and I can't even breathe when I'm not around you, it feels like I'm fucking suffocating. You're my bestfriend, but I can't help to want more. I love you, I'm sorry if that's so wrong, but no matter what you say I will continue to love you, because there isn't a bone in my body that isn't dying for you to love me back." Matt spoke in one whole breath, almost yelling as he confessed. His chest rose and fell heavily waiting for my answer

MATT POV

I looked at y/n as my eyes filled with tears, her face was in disbelief as her eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. 'God she's beautiful' I thought as my eyes traveled her face while I breathed heavily. I needed her to say something, anything. I felt like an idiot in this silence, I could ruin everything because of this, I had loved her since the first moment I laid eyes on her but I knew I could never have her in the way I wanted, so I settled for what I had. I just couldn't take lying to her anymore, so I pushed her away, but I needed to tell her, I needed to give her a real reason, even if it ended horribly.

Her lips clasped together again as she seemed to finally had formed a sentence for me, while she straightened her eyebrows slightly. Her soft gazed eyes looked into mine as my breath hitched quietly, then they went down to my lips, causing my face to falter even more.

Her actions were quick as she stepped out of her front door, joining me in the rain before wrapping her fingers into the back of my wet hair. She pulled my head down softly before she kissed me. Her lips were so soft and her touch could make me melt, I didn't even hesitate for a second to kiss her back. I wanted this moment to last forever, my hands gently snaked to hold either side of her waist.

I groaned as she slowly parted from the kiss

Y/N POV

I barely even processed his words as my body took control, I eventually found myself in a deep passionate kiss with my bestfriend. It felt amazing, his lips had a faint taste of pineapple, his lips and hair were both so soft. His hands around my waist felt so right. I parted from the kiss slowly before looking up into his eyes, his gaze still pleading with me for more even after his needy groan.

"Matt, I love you too. I always will, in whatever way you need it to be, I'm yours." I soundlessly admitted before his hand moved up to carefully grab my cheek as he pulled me in to kiss him again, the rain poured onto us as he swept me off my feet.

The kiss didn't break for even a split second as my legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walked me into my house, neither of us cared about the puddling leading into my home as he closed the front door behind us. He carried me upstairs to my bedroom that we've been in together hundreds of times, yet this one was so much different. The kiss broke for a minute to catch our breath as he closed and locked my bedroom door, he sat back on my bed while I sat on his lap.

He moved a piece of my hair out of my face that had fallen due to the small impact from my bed. "Y/n I've wanted this for so long, and I promise I will do everything to never mess this up because all I want to do is to love and cherish you the way you deserve. Please y/n, can you please be my girlfriend" He practically begged me, even with his puppy eyes staring into mine

"I would love nothing more Matt, I'd be more than lucky just to be your girlfriend." I answered as I held his face in my palms delicately as if he were fragile. his smile grew before he licked his lips smoothly and kissed me once more.

I never knew I loved my bestfriend, not like this, but now the only thing I could feel, was my love for him, and I didn't want this feeling to end, not now, not ever. I was yours, Matthew Sturniolo, forever and always.

I wrote this in 1 day guys oml, anyways this will be similar to the future Chris childhood bestfriends to lovers but that one will have sm more detail and angst to it, I promise. I want to esp take my time with that one to make it more meaningful but I hope you guys enjoy this one. Part 3 of Shadows will be coming out sometime today aswell, I just need to finish it. Sorry the end to this was kinda corny but I'm trying to get better with my dialogue 😔

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #3 - Clone Wars Rewatch Thoughts: Part I.

We're deep in the motorsports offseason and I've been on a Clone Wars rewatch for the past week or so. I'm in early season three right now, still before the timeskip, but I've been enjoying it a lot and it's gotten me thinking about Star Wars again, so I wanted to yap about it in a blogpost.

I think I'll even do a part two once I'm done rewatching the whole thing.

For now though, I'm going to talk about what I've watched so far, so seasons one and two, and the first couple of episodes of season three.

So...Clone Wars starts out pretty rough, I'm not gonna lie. The first few episodes are just a bit cringeworthy with annoying battle droid dialogue, the voice actors still finding their footing, and the animation is pretty spotty - I'll talk more about that in a moment - and of course the classic complaints of "Snips" and "Skyguy" and all that.

All of these problems started in the movie - which I most recently watched in 2023 but skipped this time because, well, it sucks unfortunately - but they are still apparent in the early episodes of season one.

The early episodes still have their moments.

The Malevolence arc is pretty competent, Rookies is probably the first legitimately good episode of the show, Cloak of Darkness and especially Lair of Grievous are good, and then from Trespass onwards the show really comes into its own.

That being said, I think season two is better than season one. Season three is another step forward, and from the timeskip onwards I think the show really hits its stride, especially because the updated designs look a lot better and fit with the animation bump.

That being said, already in season two I noticed the animation is getting better.

Season one has that classic CGI cartoon problem where the environments are rather drab, and they can't have too many characters on screen at once since it's expensive to do - and Clone Wars was an infamously expensive show - which led to a lot of battles consisting of...two Jedi and like three clone troopers against five battle droids with two super battle droids in the background. It's an understandable error, and they get much better about it as the show goes on, but it's pretty noticeable in season one.

That's a problem for a lot of CGI cartoons though. Watch Beware the Batman, Transformers Prime, or Jimmy Neutron and you'll notice a lot of these same traits.

Even some of the Barbie cartoons have those problems and it's really noticeable because it's like these blondes in bright pink colors against like a flat brown background. It's pretty trippy.

Alright, enough about the flaws of early 2010s CGI animation.

Here's a two-parter I didn't really pay all that much attention to the first two times I watched it - the first time back when it aired on Cartoon Network, the second time when I rewatched the whole series on Disney+ ahead of season seven - the Zillo Beast episodes.

Before I always just saw them as a pretty basic Godzilla homage - they awaken this giant monster on the Malastare battlefield, they eventually subdue it, but Palpatine wants to study it on Coruscant, it inevitably breaks out, and they have to stop it - but this time, it hit for me for whatever reason.

First there's the electro-proton bomb, and the nuke parallels there - they're obvious enough that I must've picked up on them before but I guess I didn't come to appreciate it - but then even when they wake the Zillo Beast, it never actually tries to leave the hole.

In fact, it doesn't until the Dugs force it out with the toxic gas.

Then the beast is clearly suffering when the shock tanks bring it down.

So, this giant, hurt animal gets sent to Coruscant in the laboratory, and Palpatine wants it killed so he can study its indestructible scales more quickly.

Only then does the Zillo Beast break out and go on its rampage, and even then, the rampage is focused directly on Palpatine.

Then they kill it with the gas bombs, and you can see it suffer as it dies, and the Jedi are so clearly disturbed by all this.

Palpatine, however, immediately tasks the scientist with cloning another one - and apparently that story is followed up on in Bad Batch season two which has unironically given me more motivation to actually watch the rest of Bad Batch than anything else I've heard about that show.

Anyway, the reason why I think this episode clicked with me this time is because this plan has Sidious written all over it, but he's forced to maneuver it as Palpatine.

He keeps trying to justify the Zillo Beast experiments but eventually his patience wears thin, and he just starts threatening the scientist to do his bidding, despite the fact he's supposed to be the kindly old Chancellor here.

Moreover, when the Zillo Beast is after him, it's probably the only time in the whole show that Sidious is in real danger, but he's with Anakin, Padme, and the droid so he can't do anything about it.

The whole show Palpatine is pulling the strings, controlling both the Republic and the Separatists, ensuring no side gets the upper hand.

Except for here, because the Zillo Beast wants to kill him, and he can't do anything about it.

He needs the Jedi and the Clones to kill the Zillo Beast for him, and once its dead, all he can do is task his scientists to clone a new one so he can try again.

It's such a cool thing to do with Palpatine/Sidious and there's a karmic justice to it all because it's entirely his fault too.

So yeah, I used to just dismiss these episodes as "oh I guess Filoni wanted to do a monster episode" but no, there's some substance here and it's pretty great.

It also goes to show that, even before the timeskip, Clone Wars was a really, really great Star Wars show. After the timeskip, it becomes the best as far as I'm concerned.

I'm excited for more Mandalore episodes, I'm excited for the Savage Opress arc - even if his name is even more on the nose than playing the Imperial March whenever Anakin does something evil - I'm excited for the Citadel, and Umbara, and the undercover Obi-Wan episodes.

I'm excited for Maul, for the Sabotage arc, for the Order 66 arc in season six, and I can't wait to finish strong on the Siege of Mandalore which is probably some of the best Star Wars content, period.

That's not even all of it. There's so much good stuff.

I love Clone Wars, it makes me happy.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Hey girllll what’s up?? Hope you’re getting rest from your flight- that type of tired is A WHOLE OTHER TYPE OF TIRED LOL- I was wondering if you could do Apollo x Demigod reader where the reader kinda dies and he goes up to Olympus demanding and threatening Zeus to make her a Goddess? (if you have to use godly parent could you do Hades?)

TYSMMMM<3333 HOPE YOU GETS LOTS OF REST AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!!

FRRRRR I"M SO EEPY GIRL and istg if there are any spelling errors its cause I wrote this right as I got it n I'm too tired to notice!!

You miss your boyfriend. You've only been dead a day and you're sooooooo bored. Wandering around your father's palace can only be so entertaining when you've passed the same skull mantle three times. Apollo is a lot of things but he's never been a bore and you wish he was here, lighting up the gloomy atmosphere and kissing you dizzy.

You try not to think about how this was inevitable. You'd die and he'd move on because he was a god and that's what gods do, they keep living. You don't want to know that he's probably already moved on to wooing another so you stay in the palace, ignoring the gossipy dead and whatever news they bring because you can't bear to hear he has a new lover on his hip already.

You're sitting in the garden, picking at a pomegranate and turning your nail beds a deep red as they fill with juice when a familiar glow is skipping towards you. Apollo is tugging you to your feet and peppering you with his lips before you can even ask. Your father having followed not far behind is watching him with an observant glare.

When Apollo finally gives you a chance to breathe, you're cupping his face so he doesn't lean in for more as you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you, silly! I'm not leaving my girlfriend in the underworld, what kind of boyfriend would that make me?"

"One that respects the rightful line between life and death." Your father chimes in but Apollo brushes his words away with an eye roll, his glittery teeth making it playful.

"Wait, wait," You put a hand up, effectively shutting them both up, "What do you mean 'come get me'?"

"You're coming to Olympus with me, Sunshine," Your jaw drops and his pointer is pushing it back up gently as he continues, "I talked to Zeus and he agreed!"

"Zeus wouldn't just.. agree." You shake your head baffled, glancing at your father when he says, "No, he wouldn't."

You turn back to your glowing lover, allowing your hands to run over his warm shoulders. "How do you persuade him?"

Apollo thinks back to when he'd approached his father's throne, casually bringing up the Black Plague and watching Zeus's face morph from confusion to anger to brief fear to understanding as he propositioned a new god with a little more threat than necessary.

"I'm his favorite son," He offers you instead, ignoring the narrowing of your expression.

"Sure you are.." You pat his beefy muscles before slipping out of his arms and wandering towards your silent dad. "What do you think of this?"

"You're happy with Apollo?" He confirms and when you nod, he says, "Then go be happy."

"Will I be able to visit you?" Hades reaches for your face, rubbing a thumb along your cheekbone with a faint smile.

"You're always welcome here, my child." You feel a light mist over your eyes as you envelop him in a hug, his chilly mouth leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

When you pull away, Apollo is by your side, taking your hand and allowing you one last squeeze to your fathers arm before he's leading you out of the Underworld. Your ghostly glare fades to a bright shine, leaving you sprinkled in sparkles and a well-fitted toga as he marches you to the heavens. Your father presses his fingers to his lips, blowing a shaky kiss towards the glow of your ascending forms, resigning himself to being alone again as he picks up the pomegranate you'd been toying with and slides back into the darkness of his reign.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Another story idea that I may or may not write that you can write for in any way so long as you do not feed it to AI or use AI to write it for you :V

I am sorry to those who read these story ideas when I write these since they are walls of texts it's literally how my brain spits everything out so I don't forget

Cw: yandere(self aware), stalking, taking of items???, a little nsfw, manipulation

Yet another yandere story because I love yandere stories they are so interesting to me this one being a self aware yandere because those are super interesting also this is leaning towards romantic not platonic because Dr. Ratio gains feelings for them though it is one sided as he does not confess but he could in your version

Anyways for this story it can be one-shot or a series if you pace it right because who doesn't love a long story with good pacing where Dr. Ratio meets someone that frequents the library could be just a regular maybe a student probably a student close to his age??? or a librarian maybe even a modern AU or with what I'm leaning toward regular universe and he's just visiting a planet for work or something and seeing what books they have at the local library after all all planets have different histories and languages he's bound to find something he hasn't read before

Point is he visits this library almost every day for a while to read something new he stays for a few hours and leaves before closing and he notices the same few people entering and leaving but he notices them the most as they're always in the same spot and a little noisy for a library at least with their sighs and tapping of their pencil on their notes he doesn't mind it much and assumes they must be a student of some sort studying hard for their next exam or something and he has to commend them for at least trying to get the material down

Out of curiosity over a particularly loud sigh of theirs he passes by their table to put his book away and glances at the book their reading and their notes to find that while they've been doing well so far they've made a simple but fixable error that they haven't been able to figure out probably due to lack of sleep judging by the darkness under their eyes

Not one to leave errors alone he puts his book away and comes back to them tapping them on the shoulder startling them and explains to them where they went wrong and they sigh thanking him for his help and fix the error though they're frustrated with themselves for getting the same thing wrong again for the fifth time he looks over their work and sees that they are indeed brilliant and clearly passionate about learning their subject though they struggle because of stress, lack of sleep, and maybe even a disability like depression, adhd, dyslexia and etc if you wanna go on that route which I might because god learning with a disability so dang hard and so dang demotivating when you see others do so well around you while you struggle with things that seem so easy for others like UUUUGGGGGGHH 🙃

So Dr. Ratio unable to leave this poor soul alone because he can't stand ignorance in any capacity learning issues be damned takes it upon himself to teach them while they are at the library during his time in the area and over the next few weeks they learn bit by bit and struggle much less under his tutoring and proudly show him their passing grade though it's something that could definitely be improved but compared to their original scores this is amazing improvement

They thank him for his help and while they are sad that he won't be around to tutor him anymore once he has to leave they are immensely grateful for his help and it makes him pause cause a part of him doesn't want this to end and he's not so sure how he feels about not seeing them even though he does have to leave as his time there will inevitably come to an end in a few days and without any thought he gives them his contact information so they can ask him for study help in the future even when he's no longer in the area

He feels his heart skip a beat when they eagerly exchange contact information with him and later he stares at their number in his phone for a long long time only to be snapped out of it by their first message asking about this or that it goes on like this for a while just him helping them with their studies until they start asking about his day and sharing their own and he looks forward to their messages while he's doing his own work or while idle at home he thinks of them often and when they begin to consume his thoughts more often than not he makes note of how ridiculous this all is as they are nothing more than a student, perhaps even just a friend

But his thoughts get more and more twisted and while he knows it's definitely not a good idea it's hard to resist the urge to look more into his friend and their life he makes notes of the drinks and food containers on their table through the photos they send of their notes and figures out what their favorite food places are he makes note on the structures of the street where they took a picture of a plant or animal and slowly but surely through every photo that they send he pieces together just where they may live what route they take to get to and from places and he finds himself disgusted by his own actions when he on one of his weeks off finds himself walking down their street to see if he can get a glance of them going or leaving home

He hates how giddy he feels to catch them coming home from down the street and how me makes it seem like he's just on a walk to clear his mind from work when they approach him and he wants to scold them for letting someone like him enter their home unaware of how much of a threat he is but he holds his tongue besides a simple warning that they shouldn't just let anyone into their home

He stays for some snacks and some light conversation before helping them once again with their studies that they've massively improved on once again he's proud of them and glad his teachings are helping them but feels his chest twist when they say they feel confident enough to study on their own from now on and while part of him wishes to sabotage them so they have to rely on him for help he instead encourages them to study on their own and let him know if they do need help with anything in the future and that they can contact him regardless if it's about their studies or not

He leaves their home and heads to his hotel room internally ashamed as he's painfully aware of the cloth he doused with their favorite scent while he used their restroom tucked into a baggie in his pocket his shame gets worse when he looks at his cum stained hand later that night and he swears he'll stop but he knows this will just get worse the more he keeps trying to deny these twisted feelings of his so while he hangs out with his friend during his little break he gives in just a bit taking in as many details about their life as he can before going back to his daily life

And it works for a time things are a bit normal he responds to their daily texts and calls and doesn't feel the need to know more about their life as he feels he's learned enough through what they've shared and their social media accounts he follows things are fine and he hasn't felt any urges to break into their home or isolate them all for himself and he thinks things are better now that he's better now that is until they text him asking him advice on how to confess to their crush and he feels his gut twist at the possibility of losing them to someone else but they need help and who is he to deny them his guidance

So he teaches them how to flirt how to appeal to them and etc all the while he's teaching them he's learning more about their love interest and as soon as he gets their name he's looking them up and getting a full background check on them and while they had maybe one or two late book fees he can't find anything wrong with them they're a pretty great person and he can't help but want to tear his own hair out at finding out they're a good person and that they'd make a wonderful partner for his friend the love of his life even he can't just say they can do better because their love interest is better better than himself even cause they surely aren't stalking them nor are they taking minor objects from their home or thinking about locking them away so no one can have them they're so good and it pisses him off so bad

Now this could go any direction like Dr. Ratio letting his thoughts win and he kidnaps them or kills their crush so they don't get with them or who knows maybe he makes it so their crush has to move because of a work transfer or something he could really do anything and get away with most things as he's smart enough to figure out ways to get what he wants without a trace he could even get their crush arrested for a crime if he did things right he could even have it appear that their lover is cheating on them if he wanted possibilities are almost endless

I'd like for him to slowly isolate them with with rumors or such that have some truth to them so they aren't easily passed off by people and have them get bullied by others and rejected by their crush so that they feel like they aren't worth anything even to him but he reassures them he doesn't think poorly of them and if they can't stand living in that area anymore they could move in with him and study with him and they get a bit hesitant but they go with him because they can't stand the harassment any more and Dr. Ratio feels guilty for using such a tactic against them but he at least has them by his side now and eventually they wind up together all while they never realise what he's done to get them to come with him idk it'd be nice to have a yandere that doesn't resort to murder or kidnapping to get what they want is all I'm saying

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Fateful Love in Motion

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

➙ Prologue

I once heard from a maid who kept a small bird that to prevent its wings from becoming useless, you need to let it out of the cage occasionally and allow it to flutter around.

I wonder when this birdcage of mine will open.

Kicho: "Do you have any regrets?"

Mai: "No."

Kicho: ".........."

(That's a lie.)

A heavy silence filled the room, and I averted my gaze from Kicho out of awkwardness.

Staying here in Ooku meant I would inevitably choose someone.

And tonight was that night.

Kicho: "Why did you choose me? Though I'm one of the attendants, we haven't talked that much."

Mai: "That's true."

(I ended up choosing him on impulse because of his strong presence.)

Seeing me at a loss for words, he sighed and quietly stood up, picking up a book from a writing desk in the corner of the room.

Mai: "Um?"

Kicho: "I have no interest in forcing anyone."

Kicho: "But if you leave the bedroom now, it will only cause unwanted rumors."

Kicho: "It would be best to spend the night quietly."

Mai: "I see."

Kicho: "Hmm. You're reading something quite challenging."

Mai: "Yes. I hope it will be useful for the future, even just a little."

Kicho: "What do you mean by that?"

His gaze pierced straight through me.

(There it is again.)

His eyes, filled with an unwavering determination, effortlessly compelled me to speak.

Mai: "Take this as a joke, but one day, I hope to break free from my dad's control and live my own life. Not here, but somewhere else."

Kicho: "I see."

He didn't say anything more after that.

One month later.

Kicho: "That's right. You should interpret it that way."

Mai: "I see. I guess I was overthinking it."

Night after night, Kicho visited me and taught me various things.

What I thought was a distressing time quickly became irreplaceable, and I began to look forward to this nightly visit.

Kicho: "Mai, is something wrong?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "You seem different tonight. Your expression seems tense."

Mai: "You can tell?"

Mai: "Actually, my father wants me to call someone else to my bedroom tomorrow."

Kicho: ".........."

Kicho: "I see."

His response was quiet.

He probably knew that this was that kind of place.

(But...)

Kicho: "----!"

I unconsciously found myself gripping his sleeve.

(I no longer have the courage to impulsively 'choose someone' as I did that day.)

(I...)

Kicho: "Mai."

Before I could put my feelings into words, his warm hand gently overlapped mine.

When I looked up, his eyes, filled with an unwavering determination, trembled with sadness.

Kicho: "Is it okay?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "I'm asking if it's okay for me to take you away."

Kicho: "To a place where you can be yourself. Mai, will you live with me?"

Mai: "Kicho."

Mai: "Why are you saying such wonderful things?"

Kicho: "The night you called me to your bedroom, I saw you longing to go outside, and I felt it would be wrong to cut those beautiful wings of yours."

Kicho: "As we spent time together, these feelings transformed."

Kicho: "Don't you feel the same?"

Mai: "……"

The warmth and scent I had long grown accustomed to slowly drew nearer.

We leaned in closer than ever before, and our bodies overlapped.

It was then, for the first time, that I noticed the sweetness and heat of his lips.

A tingling sensation then spread through the depths of my mind.

Mai: "Ah…"

Kicho: "Mai."

Instead of nodding, I firmly entwined my fingers with his.

Somewhere in the distance, I faintly heard a high-pitched sound, like the opening of a birdcage.

➙ Collection Events Masterlist

[invinciblerodent]

I'm beginning to sense that "this is not an RPG/this is doing reactivity bad" is, like, just a theme that people like to pull out when they don't like an entry in a series of RPGs.

Like it's really, really noticeable when the two long-anticipated games the release of which I was around for in the general BioWare fandom were both the fourth in their individual series, and were both met with just clownish levels of vitriol despite being objectively good games: Mass Effect: Andromeda (which was meant to be the first, introductory installment of a new trilogy, and even once the publisher-side issues of the animation errors were resolved, was inevitably compared in story and character complexity to the entirety of the original trilogy, which had both three games' of content and years and years to mature), and Dragon Age: The Veilguard (which came no less than a decade after its predecessor, and was stuck with the problems of needing to close off threads that people have had ten years to speculate about, present a cohesive story with a pre-established theme and vision, honor as many past choices as it could, and close the main plotline off, all while leaving things open enough for a potential sequel).

Like it's just kind of telling, that once all other points and even potentially meaningful criticisms have been exhautsed in the first few months, what seems to be left is "I should be able to do whatever the fuck I want, even if it doesn't make sense for the story being told, and/or results in a ridiculous amount of extra work (that only a very small fraction of people will ever see) for the already underpaid and overworked development teams".

Clown time, really.

Honestly, if what you want is unlimited player freedom (and none of those pesky things like adhering to the setting's properties or being able to go 'yes, and' in a story, just... play Minecraft, idk.

[cy-fi-theansweris42]

Me: I'm going to spend time developing some ideas I have for the Empurata Prowl AU! Keferon: [posts an angsty comic] Me, already feeling the comic bounce around my brain before hitting the Angsty Writing Corner: Aw heck--

Once again one of @keferon's posts have me writing, this time it was this post (more Prowl POV angst, I should have known, lol)

Angst below the cut!

Jazz left.

This is a thought that appears more often than Prowl would have initially anticipated as the cycles pass. Logically, he knew from the beginning that Jazz would eventually leave, of course he would. Jazz is an excellent special operations agent, one with skills that make him almost invaluable (false, there are calculations he can make to assign a value-- why doesn't he?) to the Autobot cause. To allow his skills to go to waste caring for Prowl would be inefficient, illogical.

No, Jazz is needed elsewhere, he belongs somewhere other than at Prowl's side. It was inevitable that eventually Jazz would be called away, and that eventually he would willingly go.

Jazz left.

Why does he keep thinking that?

This line of thinking has no value, no purpose. He knows that Jazz left, it is a fact.

He changes topics, the continual thought of Jazz left becoming a background process once again.

The mission Jazz left for is dangerous.

The success rate of the mission was too low, the potential benefits in no way outweighing the risks. Tactically, the mission was not worth the resources, the risk, (Jazz's life if it went wrong). Every possibility had been considered, he had run the numbers, the scenarios, everything himself. He had told Jazz it wasn't worth the risk.

And yet Jazz had left because he had been called.

(Because of him.)

(Because he did something to push Jazz away.)

(Because he--)

These lines of thinking were not worth the mental resources. Prowl moved them to the background as well.

He did not agree with the new tactician.

Prowl had seen some of his numbers, some of his suggestions. There were minor errors in his math, in his logic. They were small, almost unnoticeable. However in a war, the smallest error can lead to immense losses.

The new tactician was going to get Jazz killed.

(He was going to get Jazz killed because he pushed him away--)

(What did he do wrong--)

He needed to stop thinking about Jazz.

He didn't want to stop thinking about Jazz.

The previous statement is false, errors appearing in his vision at the incorrect logic. He didn't want. Not anymore.

He didn't want and he didn't feel and he wasn't the same anymore.

He ignored the collecting errors, they weren't important.

(Is that why Jazz left?)

(Is that what he did wrong--)

He didn't want Jazz to die.

He didn't want. He didn't feel he didn't want Jazz to die Jazz was doing to die Jazz was going to die because he did something wrong what did he do wrong hewasthewrongthingwhatwaswrongwithhim--)

ERROR: Too many background processes running, shutdown imminent.

As darkness filled his vision, it was only then that Prowl noticed the other bots surrounding him, distantly hearing someone call for Ratchet.

Then, nothing.

When Prowl awoke, there was only one thought running through his processor.

He needed to find Jazz.

[misc-obeyme]

Hi, love your work! Could I please request a headcanon with SatanxMC, author’s choice?

Hi there, anon! Thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!

Okay, so uh, since it was author's choice, I thought I'd do a little hurt/comfort. And oh man, I was in a mood 'cause MC is really going through it in this one. But the thing is, I really feel like Satan in particular would be like this. He's actually really good at balancing himself in a way none of his brothers are at all. (When he's not enraged that is.) And I think that gives him a different perspective on an MC who was deliberately suppressing their feelings. Anyway, hopefully it turned out okay!

Thanks for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

It's another long day. And something inside you mumbles quietly of sadness - a constant hum that you had tuned out long ago. You have no reason to feel anything but a sense of progress and contentment along with the inevitable knowledge that there was always more to be done. You don't have time to focus on anything else.

Satan learns your patterns the first time he sees them in action. Perhaps it's the way you isolate yourself or maybe it's the strained sound of your voice. He notices when all you ever do is give your energy, passion, and love away. He watches it deplete you.

It takes some trial and error, but Satan figures out when it's all too much. He had to learn fast when he found himself unceremoniously ripped into existence, fully formed and full of rage. He knows how to adapt quickly. He knows how emotions that feel like they don't belong to you can be so overwhelming that there isn’t space for anything else.

Satan knows that you would never say it out loud, not to anyone. He sees that low melancholy in your eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it behind your smile. You don't want anyone to know, but you desperately want someone to see it, too. And he does. He always does.

He might start out with shooing his brothers away from you. Giving them glaring looks if they become too demanding. He can’t act as though he isn't also guilty of wanting your attention, your love, your friendship. He knows you like it that way because it helps you avoid the truth of your heart. It's easy to push yourself aside when others need you. He watches you bury yourself in the wants and desires of him and his brothers. Like your own don’t matter. Like your comfort is secondary to theirs.

Satan is going to ask you about it directly. It hurts. It hurts you both to talk about it and by the end you’ve both succumbed to tears. He knows you can’t hold it in forever. He knows you can’t pretend you’re okay for the rest of your life. It doesn’t work like that and he won’t watch you crash and burn. He’s been there too many times himself. That’s why he forces himself to ask you. He calls you out when you lie or somehow downplay your feelings. Don’t hold out on him, MC. Please.

Satan’s heart breaks as he watches your eyes fill with tears the minute he asks you why you’ve been sad lately. He knows this is what he needs to do for you, but he hates watching you in pain. You reluctantly start to talk to him and every word seems to be cutting you open. Every word becomes an arrow through his heart. And he realizes he’s able to stand it, able to hold this hurt, because he can also see it healing you.

Didn’t you heal him, too? Didn’t you calm his wrath in a way no one else ever could? Isn’t it the least he could do to make room for your sadness? Isn’t it the least he could do to hold it for you, just for a little while? He would take it all if he could. He would protect you from every feeling that wasn’t happiness or joy or love.

He can’t, so instead he holds you. He hates the way you shudder in his arms, like your body can’t contain the heaviness of your own heart. But he keeps you close to him, buries his hand in your hair, kisses your cheeks softly, his lips wet with your tears. He runs his fingertips down your back, he tightens his arms around your torso. He lets you stay that way as long as you want. He’ll hold you against his chest all night if you cry yourself to sleep there.

When morning comes, Satan is floored by the bright relief he sees in your eyes. For so long, you kept quiet and he watched you fade. All it took was someone to ask you, someone to listen, someone to be there to witness you pour everything out of your soul and into the night. Now you’re radiant again and beside that a gratefulness, a tenderness, a bond between you of a shared secret hurt that no one else has ever seen. You have carried him in his anger and he will always hold you through your pain.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[astro-numerology]

For the forgotten ones

1. SPOILERS LIKE HELLA SPOILERS!!

2. hi. i finished FTFO after what feels like eternity! (only because i didn't want such an awesome fic to end)

this story is honestly so awesome I would recommend y'all to read it if you haven't already. if you already have, HI, I just finished it and am in absolute shambles. Whenever a story ends, I'm always left with such a bittersweet feeling. I always crave more, and this is one of those stories that really makes you sit back and think about a lot.

3. the foreshadowing is actually insane because "maybe one day he'd be able to help error" or something along those lines? you'll never believe what happens next...

the mentions of horrotale dying and everything else dying and stability and all of that made mt brain twist and make up theories on what would happen next. like i knew that horrortale was stable, but it didn't stop me from thinking, "Oh no, horrortale is gonna be play a big part in the future, huh?" Yeah, you'll also never believe what happens next.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the very subtle foreshadowing because it makes me feel like I'm making up game theories like those youtubers. Stories that make you physically clutch at your heart always hit different. they have a specific type of pain that heals the inside of my soul somehow.

4. COLOR DIED COLOR DIES

i was SOSO upset when he died. i was like "nah he can't just die he'll probably bounce back!" NOPE he was gone forever. fighting alongside killer until he wasn't. gosh, i wish he had plot armor dude. i genuinely wanted to see killer and color become friends.

THE WAY IT JUST KEPT RUBBING IT IN TOO?? But in the good way, of course, because what good would this story be if not reminding you of what happened? Truly, I think the part that stung the most was the orange freesias part that represented friendship. "a friendship that could never be." I think that single line ruined me. I was so excited to see Color appear at all just for him to die like Outer in Underverse 😭. Maybe I was just reading too fast for my own good (and inevitably had a terrible comprehension of what was going on), but I swear he had such little screentime.

And Cross feels insanely guilty just to wrap it all up. My heart ACHES.

5. Differences and similarities

I love that in Prism's multiverse, we see that Error is like a father figure to him. In Arc (or Ink's) multiverse, his father figure was probably hinted to be Nightmare. I love that despite Prism and Arc's differences, they still had similarities in the sense that they both had families and places to call home. They're only different because of different circumstances. This really got me. The gang being Ink's brothers and Nightmare being just "Boss" somehow feels better than Ink calling Nightmare "Dad" even if I feel that there's a kind of connection like that between them. Definitely 10/10.

6. Finale

Final thoughts? You should read it. I read this in just under a week (I believe 5 days? That's almost 100,000 words per day!) only because I had the time and needed something to entertain me. I ended up staying awake until the hours grew late, and my body had to force itself to power down for the night.

I'm not saying you should do what I did and read until you can't, but if you have time to spare and are interested in some nice ao3 fics, check out FTFO. I promise it is worth it. I might even write my own fic because I'm inspired now.

🫶

I also noticed I accidentally somehow posted my FTFO traditional fanart twice? I didn't notice until a few hours ago, but I guess I can't really go back on it now 😭

[valentineispunk]

My Angel, My angel

Chapter one: Scenes From The Past

WARNINGS: Not many for this one! Angst, mentions of overdose, cannabis use.

long ass A/N: Please, comment or review this fic! I’m a silent reader myself, but those are the things that keep me motivated. Also, if there are any mistakes, suggestions, or tips, please let me know! So frequently I notice small errors in others writing and want to help but I don’t want them to take it the wrong way. It’s also hard to notice those kind of things when you’re the one behind the screen writing it. So, i’m telling you - let me know! Also, this chapter seems kind of shitty and unfinished to me, especially because I just read one of the best written fics ever (So Much To Lose by @auteurdelabre) but, i’m eager to get this out. I hope my writing grows stronger through this series, and I hope you give it the time to. XO

- Valentine.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.”

A quote I deeply resonate with. It’s from a book I read last summer, “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, of course. I don’t think there’s a single word, thought, idea, or sentence from Sylvia Plath that I wouldn’t understand or relate to in some way.

I tried to tell my dad this once, and he called her crazy. His simple mind couldn’t piece together why I was upset with him after that. Thinking back on the memory makes me mad, but I force my rotten mind to remember anyway.

I don’t know why. I guess, I'm just in a melancholic mood. Sitting in my childhood bed — after year’s, does that to me I suppose.

I'm spending the summer with my dad, here in Texas. A while back, my dad found me passed out with a bottle of pills, and shoved me off to my mom's place in West Virginia for a while saying “We need to get ya’ out of this town. Get ya’ some help”.

Eighteen and nineteen felt like some of the longest years of my life, I'm glad they’re over. They were filled with medication and boyfriends. Mom decided I had gotten worse being in an even smaller town, so she finally shipped me back. I was actually pretty happy about it. The feeling of watching everybody’s faces slur together and mix like paint in a pallet as my brain slowly and inevitably forgot them was miserable.

I wonder how many times they’ll juggle me back and forth between states until they unanimously decide to kick me out and let me fend for my own. It hasn’t been a week since I arrived, and everything still feels fresh. I’ve spent all my time doing a whole lotta’ nothing. I didn’t have much to unpack, and dad has been working late almost every night.

My bedroom was much smaller than I remembered. As if all the walls came in a few square feet. The floral sheets on the tiny twin bed — still covered in old stains — peeled off the mattress at the corners, and the whole room felt weirdly warm. Boy band posters left hanging on the wall, and dust layering thick over all my old possessions. This was my life once.

The whole thing made me feel uneasy.

Luckily, this morning my dad called and finally gave me something to do — an excuse to get the fuck out of here.

I had been avoiding leaving, or more so avoiding everyone’s pitiful gaze, but i’m so fucking i’m tired of just sitting here.

Dads buddy Joel Miller’s daughter, Sarah, has some old DVDs they’re trying to get rid of. So, I'm to go through them and see if I can find anything I like. I guess their logic was “Some movies will keep her busy!”

I remember the Millers pretty well. Mr. Miller was one of my dad’s only friends since I was born — and my biggest crush throughout high school. He always dressed in worn-out, discolored, blue jeans and an old flannel. I remember he always smelt of coffee and earthy cologne.

Sarah was close to my age. I heard she was spending her senior year studying at some expensive high school in California. As kids, I suppose she and I were close. She was one of those friends that you could always trust, and no matter how much time you spent apart, you could just click back together as if you never left.

I used to be crazy jealous of her. She was just herself. Didn’t seem to worry about how people viewed her. She didn’t fit into any social circle, or follow any aesthetic. She could mix match her clothes and still look perfect with her smooth chocolate skin.

I imagine it was that exact jealousy that eventually drove us apart.

My dad said Joel would pick me up around 6:00 pm. I told him I could just walk there and he spoke with that typical rough Texan drawl, “No, he won’t take no for an answer.”

Which I hated. I’m not stupid, I know just about everyone in this town had heard about my overdose, but I don’t want Mr. Miller of all people pitying me. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few streets over on my own, but I decided it wasn’t worth the argument it would surely cause if I mentioned it.

I heavily focused on how I dressed and looked today. I felt like since the last time Mr. Miller saw me, I had developed. Not only physically, as a woman, but mentally I'm different —everything feels different since West Virginia.

I dressed in some vintage low-rise jeans I had thrifted a while back, a simple tank top, and an oversized zip-up hoodie. I didn’t worry much about my hair. I don’t think I had done anything with it since the 6th grade, when I decided pulling my hair back makes my face look round and childish.

୨♡୧

The cool wind outside sent a shiver across my shoulders, despite the warm wool of the hand-me-down jacket I was wearing.

I had run out of things to busy myself with while waiting for Joel, so I settled on waiting on the curb outside — rather foolishly. Now when he sees me, my face will be flushed and my nose snotty from crisp January air.

I skipped through playlists and songs, since I seemingly wore out about everything.

Get Gone - Fiona Apple

True Love Waits - Radiohead

Asleep - The Smiths

It Ain’t Me, Babe - Joan Baez

I Want Someone Badly - Jeff Buckley

I noticed a pattern, skimming through my music. God, just existing makes me feel like such a stereotype. Classic, attention-seeking, melancholy teenage girl. I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out whether or not that’s true. Or if I’m truly as sad as I feel I am.

My thoughts were interrupted by the cracking and crunching of loose gravel to the left of me. As I stood, a familiar olive green truck pulled up by the curb.

My eyes settled on yet another familiar thing, sitting in the driver's seat.

Joel Miller

I suppose my time getting ready went to waste, because I know I look a mess. Nose and cheeks reddened, hair blown messy from the bitter wind, pebbles sticking to the back of my thighs from the road, and tangled headphones hanging low.

It’s times like these when I'm bound to wind up thinking of Shakespeare.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

Because it is my fault, I suppose. I chose to sit outside, too listen to music and wait. But I won’t dwell on it. I have the free will to think up some ancient god or deity and blame my fate on them for today.

Now, I know I knew Mr. Miller was picking me up, but it didn’t exactly process. Now that the adrenaline is gone, my breath is stuck in a familiar ball at the top of my throat. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, or anyone from around here for that matter. However, I’ve been standing on the overgrown grass by the road staring at him like a fool for who knows how long.

When I hopped in the tall truck, I felt a bit better seeing what he looked like. Freshly out of work, sweat gathered on his brow and dirt stains on his jeans. His shoes were covered in mud and his calloused hands were grimey.

I tucked my legs under my arms and held them there. My dad would’ve already yelled at me to “buckle up”, but joel hadn’t.

Once I stopped comparing myself to this particular grown man's demeanor, I found something else of his to focus on — his face.

It seems I’m not the only one who’s aged. Mr. Millers curled hair had grown and grayed, and the fine lines on his face were re-carved by great sculptures to be deeper. His skin was tanner and his body hair bristly.

I wasn’t sure of his age at the time, but I’d guess late forty’s.

Almost perfect beekeeping age. My favorite.

I almost laughed out loud.

He greeted me with a head nod and a small crooked smile. His truck quietly played soft rock and smelt strongly of masculine car freshers and — fucking weed?

Honestly, did not expect that from him.

“You look different.” I thought aloud.

He grunted. “You too.”

There were a couple polaroids taped to the dash of a teenage Sarah and him, as well as a dog I don’t recognize. Thank him, thank him, thank him, I thought.

“Thanks for the ride.” I spoke smally.

His eyes left the road for a second, still not looking into mine.

“My pleasure.” He responded.

I removed my headphones, and shoved them deep in my jean pocket. We sat in near silence for a bit.

Is this truly as awkward as I’m making it out to be? Am I making it that way? Does he feel it too?

“So what movies are you lookin’ for?” he continued.

“Nothin’ really.” I said.

His eyebrows twitched together in confusion and he turned the radio down a bit.

“Your dad said you liked movies n all that stuff.”

Shoot me, shoot me now.

“I dunno, I’ve always loved film and been interested in the process of making them and actors and stuff like that. But I’ve never particularly liked a certain genre. I’ll watch anything. Though, I do have a movie bucket list-“ I rambled — a nervous habit of mine.

Mr. Miller didn’t seem to mind, only nodding his head when appropriate.

“You sure do talk a lot, don’t ya’?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I’m only jokin’ kid.” he spoke with a small smile.

୨♡୧

His house was surprisingly clean. I suppose there’s not much for him to do at home with Sarah gone. It had begun to get dark out, but the low afternoon sun shined through his tan sheer curtains, leaving a warm glow on all the furniture. I sat comfortably on a worn-out, beige sofa, while Joel went to grab some old boxes. Some old show I thought to be Dawsons Creek quietly played in the background.

When he returned, he plopped down two shoe boxes — filled to the brim — with DVDs. I began to take some off the top and spread them across the large wooden coffee table to get a better look. Mr. Miller stood awkwardly at the edge of the couch, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs.

“Hey, you can go shower or whatever. I know you just got back from work.” I spoke.

“Ya’ sure?” he asked in response.

“Yea, I’m good here.” I reassured.

As I flipped over discs, getting a good look at all the covers, I started three piles: to watch, already seen, and donate.

About fifteen minutes later, my mind began to wonder about things I couldn’t quite remember. Like, where does Joel work again? Obviously someplace dirty, a mechanic, maybe? As well as, how obvious was my crush on him in high school? I wonder if he knew. I cringed just thinking of it.

I didn’t have much luck with the movies, deciding to watch only four. The Dark Knight, considering my dad’s going to watch with me and I can’t bore him entirely. Scream, a horror classic, and a must-watch (I’ve been told). Edward ScissorHands - my favorite, and BeetleJuice.

While checking my phone a while later, I found a text from my dad.

“Should be back to pick you up at 8:00.”

Realizing how much time I have, and considering how indescribably bored I was, I went to look for Mr. Miller.

The now unfamiliar house was like a maze to me. It was also way bigger than I remembered. After searching for a couple minutes, I found big sliding glass doors in the kitchen, leading to what I assumed was the backyard.

Peering through, I saw broad shoulders — covered by a thin gray t-shirt — and a head full of dark, wet curls, surrounded by smoke.

I slipped through the door, and quietly tip-toed to a cheap fold-out chair beside him. I'm sure my footsteps were audible, but he didn’t seem to hear them. Maybe he’s older than I thought. His head lifted to look at me once I was finally in sight.

I felt much more comfortable now than I had earlier. Maybe it was our surroundings, the cool glow from the rising moon and smokey air wrapping a bubble around us, separating me from the world.

Joel was sat resting his arm on his knee, and his right hand held a lit half-smoked joint. He wore a loose t-shirt, ragged sweatpants, and a pair of house shoes.

His round brown eyes then locked with mine.

“Don’t even think ‘bout it.” He spoke suddenly, turning away again while bringing the pre-roll to his lips and inhaling slowly.

“Come on, please.” I exaggerated.

“No, no. I’m not letting your dad come pick ya’ up from my house with you being high off your mind.” He spoke sternly, thick white smoke coming from his nose.

“You truly think so little of me? I’m not a kid, I’ve built tolerance Joel.” and yet I felt like a kid speaking it aloud.

He looked at me with an unreadable expression, almost amused — and I realized that was probably the first time I’ve ever called him Joel in my life.

“Come on.” I said, reaching my hand across the space between our chairs and wiggling my fingers at him.

He let out a small annoyed huff, but I saw the smirk on his face when he shoved it in between my fingers.

I flashed an emphasized smile at him jokingly.

“Thanks, Mr. Miller.” I said, laughing to myself, then raising the joint to my lips.

“Well don’t ya’ go back to that now.” He spoke, grinning.

The smoke in my mouth came out in a splutter when I laughed. He chuckled at that.

“Okay, Joel.” I said after a minute, the tip glowing as I drew in another deep inhale and then passed it back to him.

The air around continued getting smoggier, no matter the crisp night wind. We sat in a comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth. After a while, I denied it when he tried to pass it back. I’d never admit it, but he was right. I started to feel it, I guess my tolerance faded a little over the past month or so since I smoked last.

Though, I think he knew. According to that twisted smirk on his lips when I shook my head no at him.

That’s when I really realized what Joel was wearing — or the lack of what he should be wearing.

“Hey.” I spoke.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response.

It took me a minute to answer.

It’s late January, the coldest time of the year in Texas. And here he is, sitting outside at night — with wet hair — without a jacket on.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, i’m not cold.” he spoke sternly.

“Yea you are.” I responded quickly, shimmying my jacket down my shoulders and throwing it his way.

He caught it briskly. “Kid, look at me.”

So I did. He held the jacket up by the arms, displaying it.

“You think this’ll fit me?” he asked.

I hummed and squinted my eyes, thinking of an answer.

“No kid, that was rhetorical.” he continued.

“Joel, look at me.” I mocked, and he listened.

I took his face in my hands, smooshing his cheeks in a little. “Not a kid.” I continued.

“Yea ya’ are.” he said, standing.

He pulled me up with him and led me inside. God i’m acting so fucking weird, my dad will surely hear about this. How strong is this weed? How high is his tolerance, I wondered.

Once we got inside he led me straight to the couch. We sat, a lot closer than we did outside or in the car this afternoon. I showed off my DVD piles and eventually just layed back.

Joel watched whatever was on, and we were silent — for a while.

He looked so different from the Mr. Miller I knew. Out of his work clothes, damp hair, legs spread wide with his arm propped up behind his head. He looked peaceful, almost attractive.

“Ya’know…” I started.

“Oh, here we go.” Interrupted Joel.

“In high school, like a billion years ago, I had the biggest fattest crush on you.” I emphasized.

I tilted my head low and looked up at him through my lashes, jokingly smirking. He stared at me for a long time, though I was too out of it to understand why.

“Yea, I know.” He said.

“I remember you always wore too tight shirts, and you’d be covered in grime like you were in some old porno movie set at a construction sight.”

I yelped.

“Construction! That’s it, you’re a contractor.” I pointed a finger at him accusingly.

“Guilty?” he spoke. “Ya’know what I remember about you?”

I hummed in response.

“You were always by yourself. Even at the barbecues n pool party’s. You didn’t seem to like to be around anyone, not even your dad. You were so distinctive, always yourself. Ya’ had your own kinda style or whatever and didn’t seem to care what others thought. Always in another world.” he continued.

What he described couldn’t be any more different than me. It sounded like what I wished I was.

“I don’t care for anyone here.” I spoke.

He took a second to respond. “Then why’d you come back?”

“…It’s my town.” I whispered, before drifting off.

[3r-tree]

don't mind me i'm just dumping my thoughts about them below (so I don't make things looks too long)

They both have an interesting understanding of what a family is. Due to her wiped memories about her past, March thinks that Astral Express is her family, people who love and cherish her. While Hong Lu knows that family is supposed to support each other, his understanding of what a family is is twisted by the fact that said family always tried to assassinate him. March would be baffled when hearing that but also understand that she came from a privileged place where the chance of Astral Express trying to kill each other are least of her concerns.

While she has a healthier life, she has anxiety where she doesn't have another place to go back since she doesn't remember her origin, so she has tendencies to cling to Astral Express. Hong Lu has more or less the same thing where he has an attachment to his family although for a different reason.

Hong Lu has a nihilistic way of living since he knows that everything is futile due to his fate are bind with his family. March treasures her moment because she's afraid that she will forget everything again.

"Everything is futile so I tried not to really have attachment with the world" person meets "I want to cherish everything because I don't want to forget everything again" person.

"Everything is futile but we can do everything that we can before the inevitable comes"

While March can share her way of living with trailblaze path, Hong Lu can be empathetic with her struggle especially since she has amnesia and has existential crisis with her role in the world.

While I can't imagine them having a romantic relationship, I can see them having a deep platonic relationship since their struggle can be interconnected with each other.

I can imagine their vibe is 2000-mid 2010 pop song (i can imagine them hearing Katy Perry for the lols)

Since Hong Lu has a younger sister, he can go along with March easily.

Hong Lu's symbol is his eye, March's symbol is her camera.

(Hongmarch sounds cute tbh. Hongqi (鸿七) (March's name in CN version is Sanyueqi (三月七)) is also cute tbh...)

Edit: yeah if you noticed grammar errors and misgendering, it's because I write this at the time where I should be sleeping, also English is not my first language //cry. If you read this, then it means I fixed (most of) the mistakes