#Last year I was able to see the moon twice a week

[watcherwingedcat]

There's something about the night and your identity that it's so so liberating.

There's something about the stars, that see you, that free you, that guided humans for thousands and thousands of years.

There's something about the nothingness of it all, of the knowledge that you will someday join them and call them

There's something about the darkness, a being neither human or animal, trapped between those two worlds, that watches the clouds, that breathes on the night

There's something about the light, that loves you, that traps you, that makes you see the beauty of the world in front of your eyes

There's a liberation whenever you look up to the sky for answers, praying for the moon to notice you, to cherish you

Because you're their everything. And she's your creator, your reason, your guardian, your breath, your obsession, your vice.

And she's your everything

[mikavlcs]

Rebels and Renegades

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: Becoming best friends with a sentient hand brings many much-needed changes to your life, the biggest being the very girl he arrived at Nevermore with.

Warnings: this is so stupid, reader is incredibly unserious, many attempts at comedy, TERRIBLE pacing, bad writing, cursing, this doesn’t correlate properly with the timeline of the show but idc

Word count: 6.6k (sorry, this got very out of hand...get it?)

Notes: this is trash but it’s fun so who cares. this is entirely for @clexa-is-forever aka thing’s biggest fan. despite my writer’s block, i still had fun writing this. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

If someone told you at the beginning of the school year that your best friend would be a sentient disembodied limb, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because you thought it would be too ridiculous or nonsensical, but because in your mind, it was far too interesting for what Nevermore Academy had to offer.

See, you were initially excited to transfer to Nevermore. To get away from the shallow depths of normie public school and be around people like you. But alas, it was too good to be true—or, maybe, you had gotten your hopes up too high.

Because it turned out that fantastical mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and sirens actually weren’t too dissimilar from their normie counterparts. They didn’t care about excitement or adventure or fun, they cared about partying and drinking and dating.

This duality created an atmosphere of contradictions. There were people with literal snakes for hair but also those stupid cliques of popular kids that liked to pick on people for no reason. Werewolves transformed into energetic beasts and prowled the woods together every full moon, but students’ biggest concerns were whom they were gonna ask to the school dance.

It was all strange and supernatural yet shockingly normal. And extraordinarily boring.

The disappointment you felt upon this discovery was immeasurable. It appeared that no matter how far you ran, you could never escape the clutches of adolescent desires and drama.

But there was nowhere else for you to go. This was it, your parents told you that definitively. So you resigned yourself to your fate and settled into life at Nevermore.

Months passed at a snail’s pace. Around the middle of the semester, a new student transferred in. Because nothing of substance happens, she was the talk of the town for a solid two weeks before her scheduled arrival, but you didn’t care.

You would admit that after finally seeing her, your interest was piqued. She certainly fit the murderer vibe. With her pallid complexation and dark eyes, she looked straight out of a black & white horror film, even complete with a black uniform instead of the standard purple (which you were so jealous of).

Temptation pulled at your chest whenever you saw her, but you decided to leave her alone. This school had disappointed you enough, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to handle even more. The decision to keep your distance was made and instead, you let your imagination run wild without the probable barriers of reality to inhibit it. 

Little did you know that only one day after the new girl transferred in, she inadvertently changed the course of your life at Nevermore forever. 

Advanced Gorgon Sciences, your last class of the day, had just ended and you were wandering campus wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You were contemplating going into Jericho when something smacked your cheek.

Pausing, you glanced down and found the offending object to be a small pebble. You followed its rough trajectory up to a ledge on your left and saw something scurrying across it. Against, your nonexistent better judgment, you moved closer and…

You blinked once, then twice, narrowed your eyes.

It was a hand—literally just a hand, cut off at the wrist but still scuttling and scurrying around with no problem.

So, you were definitely losing your mind. Honestly, it was about damn time.

Having nothing better to do, you decided to lean into the madness and approach the hand. At the sound of your footsteps, it turned and…looked at you? You weren’t sure, but it acknowledged your presence with a friendly wave.

You waved back, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you hoisted yourself up to sit on the ledge.

Once you were up, you saw that the hand was fiddling with a makeshift slingshot, struggling to simultaneously keep it upright while loading and aiming it. His plight was fairly obvious and considering his circumstance, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Abandoning the slingshot, the hand crawled over to you and started tapping insistently. It took much more brain power than it ought to for you to realize that he was trying to speak to you.

“Sorry, I don’t understand…that,” you apologized with a grimace. But an idea came to mind a moment later. “Can you write?”

The hand gave you a thumbs up. You dug around your backpack and pulled out a notebook along with a pen, flipping it open to an empty page and slid it over, setting the pen down on top. He picked up the pen and got to work, pushing the notebook back toward you a minute later.

Curious, you looked at the messy scrawl below.

Sorry, was aiming for the guy behind you.

You nodded understandingly. “It’s fine. Could I ask why you’re launching pebbles at students?”

You waited once more as he scribbled his answer and peered down when he pushed the paper over.

For fun.

Again, you nodded. You could respect that.

“Well, do you mind if I join you?” you asked, nodding toward the slingshot. “I’d imagine it would be a lot easier to aim with an extra pair of hands. And the accompanying body,” you added awkwardly at the end, hoping it wouldn’t offend the little guy.

Thankfully it didn’t. He gave you an excited thumbs up, scuttling back over to the slingshot while you scooted over. While he loaded another pebble into the pouch, you scanned the area below for your next victim.

Your eye snagged on a vampire for no real reason other than the fact that he just kinda looked like an asshole.

You pointed to him below. “How about him?”

Thing gave you another thumbs up. Nodding, you held the slingshot in place while Thing drew the pebble back and let it fly.

The shriek that came from your victim almost made you blow your cover. You grabbed Thing and hurriedly crawled back to where you were both out of sight, barely containing your giggles. Once the coast was clear, you cracked, pitching forward with your laughter as Thing drummed his fingers against your arm in what you assumed was amusement.

“That was amazing!” You looked down at him, smirked. “Wanna do another one?”

He tapped your hand enthusiastically, making your smile widen.

Thus was the beginning of an amazing friendship. Well, amazing for you and Thing—not for the rest of Nevermore.

The two of you were a match made in hell. Together you brainstormed a plethora of good pranks to pull on unsuspecting students and teachers.

Putting spiders (fake or otherwise) in students’ lockers. Setting glitter traps on top of classroom doors so whichever unlucky soul walks through first gets showered in glitter. Slipping mentos into people’s sodas. Setting trip wires to watch people faceplant around campus and many more.

It was glorious. Your own personal reign of terror, even.

Principal Weems had her suspicions, but no matter how many times she tried to catch you in the act, you slipped through her fingers. And without proof, her hands were tied. So you and your companion were free to keep enjoying your schemes so long as you were discreet.

For the first time since you enrolled, days passed by in what felt like minutes, the personification of the saying time flies when you’re having fun.

Through it all, you often wondered where the little guy was when he wasn’t with you. You hoped that he wasn’t causing too much mischief without you. He was your partner in crime, after all.

Two weeks in, you decided to ask him at breakfast.

The two of you were at your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria. You were ranting about an upcoming Lycanthrope History test while Thing was launching the grapes you gave him to play with at nearby tables. After your rant, you finally gave in to your curiosity.

“So, what exactly are you doing at Nevermore? I know this place houses some strange students but, something tells me you’re not here to learn.”

He flicked a grape with precise aim, nailing a gorgon right on the forehead before giving you a series of taps. Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Babysitting? Babysitting who?”

Nothing could have prepared you for his answer.

“Wednesday Addams?!”

Your voice came out much louder than intended, turning a few heads around the cafeteria and making Thing jump. You didn’t care, plowing forward in your questioning.

“You’re ‘babysitting’ the school’s homicidal maniac?”

His stance straightened, his nonverbal tone somehow indignant as he corrected you.

You gave him a pointed look. “Attempted homicide isn’t much better, buddy.”

He seemed to contemplate flicking another grape, but seeing Miss Thornhill looking around, he chose not to. Instead, he drummed his fingers inquisitively at you, teasingly waggling his fingers at the end. You gave him another sharp look, insulted by his implication.

“Scared? What, no! This is amazing news,” you exclaimed. Then, an idea arose. “Hey, do you think she’d let us borrow any of her stuff for pranks?”

Thing mournfully shook his wrist. You let out a deep sigh, slumping over again. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve expected that answer.”

Wednesday didn’t really come up in conversation after that. You asked a few more times about her willingness to let you borrow her things, but after receiving the same answer, you gave up. Your paths had yet to cross, and you assumed that it would stay that way. But the universe seemed to have other plans.

The first time you formally met her was about a month after she transferred.

It was an appropriately cloudy day and you and Thing had just successfully completed a heist. You were in the Weathervane, both gushing over the fact that you had managed to steal fifteen scented lotions from Jericho’s local Bed, Bath & Body Works when a sharp voice interrupted you.

“So this is who you’ve been running off with these past few weeks.”

Both you and Thing flinched, looking up to see the Wednesday Addams staring down at you and your partner.

Offering a wave, you said, “Hey, Wednesday. Want a scented lotion?”

She ignored you completely. Her eyes barely scanned your figure before she was turning her full attention to Thing, her arms crossing over her chest in vindication.

“I knew you had to have an accomplice. You’re nowhere near nimble enough to properly set a trip wire by yourself.”

Thing slumped, obviously disheartened by the statement, but before you could defend his honor, your mind caught on something else.

“Wait…” You looked over at Thing, offended. “Have you been taking full credit for our pranks this entire time?”

Sheepish, Thing bowed, giving your hand an apologetic pat. You moved it away, crossing your own arms over your chest.

“Since this is your first offense, I’ll forgive you. But do it again and I’m keeping all of the profits from our future heists, got it?”

Thing jumped in alarm, tapping urgently. You smiled. “Good.”

Wednesday looked between you both, clearly unimpressed. You decided to take your shot again.

“You know, the lotion offer still stands.” You rifled through the lotions, taking note of their scents, and glanced back up with an apologetic look. “Though, we don’t have one that smells like stage 4 human decomposition, sorry.”

Again, she just stared blankly. You swore you saw her eye twitch but still, she said nothing and glared at Thing.

“Be back at the dorm by 7.”

With that, she turned and marched out of the café, leaving everyone in her path to fearfully stumble out of her way. Both of you watched, rapt, as she slammed the café door open and nearly nailed an approaching customer in the face.

Once she was out of sight, you turned to Thing. “Y’know, I think that went well, buddy.”

Thing said nothing.

You thought that would be the end of it, and honestly, you would’ve been fine if it had been. You made a good first impression and she now knew you existed. A double win!

But again, it seemed that someone had other plans—though this time it wasn’t the universe, but Thing.

Now that you and Wednesday had been semi-acquainted, Thing began inviting you to their dorm for hangouts frequently (because it was “his dorm too” …you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise). This set a few things in motion.

First, you met Wednesday’s roommate, Enid.

Enid was nice. A little hyper, like she was on a permanent sugar rush, but sweet, nonetheless. She gave you free manicures and skincare advice, and even let you borrow some things for pranks, so you hadn’t a single bad thing to say about her.

Second, you found out that you were very bad at scaling buildings.

Due to both curfew and Wednesday’s usual disapproval of your presence, Thing insisted on smuggling you in. By throwing a rope down to your balcony for you to climb. And…let’s just say that it’s a miracle you even survived the first time.

And finally, most importantly, you and Wednesday began to grow closer.

Only by about a centimeter, but progress was progress. And through sheer willpower and repeated exposure, you wormed your way into the tolerance stage, which is farther than most people who came into contact with Wednesday got, so you were proud.

She wasn’t warmer per se, but the sight of you in her dorm was no longer met with a throwing knife, just a death glare and some tentative (mostly one-sided) conversation if she was in a good mood. It was a big win.

Now that she wasn’t orchestrating any attempts on your life, you grew…not protective, but defensive of her, and Enid for that matter. Enid was your friend and Wednesday was…Wednesday. Willingly or not, they were part of your small circle.

So when a werewolf insulted Wednesday right to her face the day before the Poe Cup, well who could blame you for getting a little revenge?

You overheard him call Wednesday a frigid bitch, and he was right, but he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing. In retaliation, you and Thing gave him a special surprise involving shampoo and some of Enid’s hair dye that you were very excited to see the next day.

And it didn’t disappoint. Seeing the flash of bright pink amongst the Furs, and a matching flush of embarrassment that was nearly the same color was the highlight of your day.

At least it was until the Black Cats emerged from their tents.

Given your positioning, you were only able to see them once they started climbing into their canoe, and needless to say that the team’s roster shocked you. There were a few girls you didn’t recognize up front, then Enid and, as her co-pilot in the back, Wednesday.

Your jaw dropped. Because not only was she competing in the competition, but she was also wearing a skintight black catsuit, complete with ears and a tail.

The laugh you let out was so loud that it startled the surrounding crowd. You felt something poking your leg, and looking down, you found Thing standing by your feet. You bent down, glancing over to the Black Cat’s boat.

“Hey, you helping out Wednesday and Enid?”

He bowed in confirmation. Nodding, you stuck out a hand.

“Punch at least one siren for me, alright bud?”

He shook your hand firmly, a promise to fulfill your wish, and crawled off to the boat.

The event itself was rather dull. With the way Enid explained it, you were expecting something a bit more grandiose, but in reality, it was just standing around and watching for boats. Boring.

But hey, it gave you a half-day of classes, so who were you to complain?

The results though, were much more interesting.

For the first time in decades, the trophy went to Ophelia Hall. You were happy, not because you had any buried school spirit, but because you knew how much Enid wanted this. Seeing the fish get knocked down a peg was a nice bonus.

Afterward, you pushed through the crowd to try and find Enid so you could personally congratulate her, but before you could spot her, you bumped into her co-pilot. Literally.

Blindly, you steadied the smaller girl by the shoulders, a sorry on the tip of your tongue, but it got swallowed down as you were crudely reminded of her current state of dress. You tore your eyes from her outfit and dropped your hands back to your side, meeting her glare with what you prayed was a straight face.

“Hey, Wends. Congrats on the win! Love the outfit by the way,” you said, trying your absolute hardest not to crack a smile. The large ears were making that exceptionally hard, however.

She scowled. “Don’t call me that and for your information, I was forced to wear this.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without laughing. Thankfully, it seemed Wednesday wasn’t finished speaking anyway.

“I noticed that werewolf’s hair is now a rather putrid shade of pink,” she said. “Did you perhaps have something to do with that?”

Once again, you found yourself unsuccessfully fighting off a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions. But it suits him, don’t you think?”

Before she could respond, a soaking wet Thing pulled on your pant leg and excitedly began recounting what happened. You bent down again, nodding along with his story, and beamed at him once he finished.

“Right in the eye?” you reiterated, and Thing confirmed. “That’s awesome. I knew I could count on you.” You gave him a quick high five then scooped him up, drying him off on your uniform and setting him on your shoulder.

You stood back up and saw that Wednesday was still there, staring at you so intently that you were sure she was somehow looking straight through you.

Cocking your head to the side, you went to ask if she was alright, but that must’ve knocked her from her stupor because, without another word, she spun on her heel and walked off, leaving you to stare at the spot she just occupied, thoroughly bewildered.

“That was weird,” you commented. Thing gave an agreeing pat.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t question her about it since you didn’t get the chance to speak with her again until exactly three days later.

It was just after dinner. Thing invited you over to help prepare a new scheme, and who were you to say no to the little guy?

Enid was visiting Yoko in the infirmary and Wednesday was nowhere to be seen, so it was just you and Thing, sitting by the window hard at work.

You tied the water balloon in your hand and held it in front of you, giving it a contemplative look. “You’re sure these will only give them bad rashes, right?”

The only response you received was a shrug, which was good enough for you, so you picked up the next one and got to filling it up. Not one to work in silence, you voiced a thought you’d been holding in for a while.

“So, do you breathe? Like, would be able to drown if you stayed under the water for too long?”

Thing shook his wrist matter of factly. You gasped.

“That’s so cool.” The flustered thuds you heard after made you chuckle.

Satisfied, you went back to filling balloons, but your head popped up only a minute later, another burning question on your mind. “If you can’t eat or drink, then what physically sustains you to keep you alive?”

Without missing a beat, Thing tapped out his answer.

“The misery of others?” You snorted. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

Conversation lapsed into quiet as you both focused on your tasks, and your mind wandered.

You wondered where Wednesday was. The hour just after dinner was her designated writing hour, and it was very unusual for her to be missing it.

You hoped that she’d be back soon, even if she only glared at you the rest of the night. Just seeing her would be enough to satisfy you.

Because in a somewhat cruel twist of irony, you were now falling victim to the very same feelings you mocked others for getting caught up in, and even more brutal was the fact that you didn’t mind all too much. Mostly because it was Wednesday.

Now, you were no poet or writer. You weren’t going to wax poetic and spew a thousand grandiose metaphors about how her eyes resembled that of a starless sky, no.

Wednesday was really pretty and genuinely interesting, and she looked at you like a predator wanting to tear apart its prey. And really, that’s all it took for you to dive right off that cliff’s edge into infatuation.

There was a certain excitement in knowing that she could dismember you with surgical precision if you ever went just a little too far, an irresistible thrill to be found in constantly toeing that line. Like walking a tightrope with life and death teetering on a knife’s edge—the perfect counterbalance to the endless loop of monotonous boredom your life had seemingly fallen into before her and Thing’s arrival.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your train of thought, and you whipped your head just in time to see Wednesday stride in with a book cradled in her arms and her usual annoyed expression adorning her features.

You perked up, and out the corner of your eye, you saw Thing do the same.

“Hey! How’s Nevermore’s resident tiny terror doing today?”

“Call me that again and I will disembowel you,” came her cheerful reply. You snorted.

“Uh-huh.” You finished tying the last balloon and looked back up, seeing Wednesday eyeing your prep work with distaste.

“Are those water balloons?” she asked, clearly unimpressed.

“Yep. They’re filled with holy water so we can throw them at the vampires who were teasing Enid last week for not being able to shift.” You grinned. Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction.

“That’s insane,” she commented. Then after a beat, “Make sure to film it on your cellular device so I can watch as well.

“Of course,” you assured her, giving a dramatic bow as well. She rolled her eyes, and you watched her resign to her desk. Unable to contain your curiosity, you piped back up, “So what took you so long? I was expecting you to come in and kick me out hours ago.”

Her reply was instantaneous. “I discovered a secret passageway in the school, committed theft, and became the target of an attempted kidnapping.”

A twinge of jealousy pierced your gut. How come she always got to do the fun stuff? You quickly shook it off, focusing on the first thing she said.

“A secret passageway?” you asked, already thinking of ways to possibly utilize the space for you and Thing.

“Yes, I solved a riddle and uncovered a passageway hidden behind the Edgar Allen Poe statue in the quad.”

The Edgar Allen Poe statue… Recognition sparked, and the pieces slotted together, some of your prior jealousy abating.

“Ohh, you got kidnapped in the Nightshade’s Library?”

Finally, she looked at you, gaze so sharp it could’ve cut you in two. “How do you know about that?”

You and Thing shared an unsubtle sideways glance.

“Uh—”

“So what fingers do you do it with? Thumb and ring finger or thumb and middle finger?”

The pressing question was delivered in a whisper. It was late—at least an hour after lights out, but Thing promised to teach you how to snap before he left for his dorm.

So to avoid being caught, you and the appendage were tucked into the corner of a small hall that branched off from the quad. You were hunched against a tall Edgar Allen Poe statue while your companion stood next to you.

Thing waggled his fingers and pointedly put his thumb against his middle finger. You nodded and copied his movements, rubbing the fingers together to get a feel for it.

“So I just…”

You pressed the fingers together and made the snapping motion a few times in quick succession, beaming up at him when you managed to produce a few low sounds.

Suddenly, a deep rumble emanated from the ground beneath you as the statue you were seated on began to shift. You leapt to your feet, quickly grabbing Thing and placing him on your shoulder. You both watched, baffled, as the statue moved to reveal a long winding staircase.

Taking in a breath, you shared a look with Thing then looked back to the open pathway.

“Holy shit!”

“No reason,” you said far too quickly to be believable. Before she could question you further, you cleared your throat and moved on. “Did you have fun?”

“No. They were imbeciles that didn’t even know the basics of the art of abduction. It was pitiful.”

You frowned. “Oh. Sorry about that. I hope the next one is better.”

Wednesday shot you a strange look, studying you carefully before mumbling out a barely audible thank you, and turning back to her desk.

Since you were finished with the balloons, you slumped back against the window. There was nothing to do, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your eyes drifted back to Wednesday’s hunched form. Nosiness tugged at you. You wanted to know more about what she stole and why, and a glance at Thing told you that he did too.

Extending your arm for him to climb, you waited until he rested securely on your shoulder before heading to Wednesday’s desk to see what she was up to.

Lying flat on the wood before her was the book, opened to an illustration. On the left page was what looked to be a pilgrim extending a staff toward the figure on the right, who somewhat resembled Wednesday. You squinted. Scratch that, the girl on the right looked exactly like Wednesday.

“Is this what you stole?”

“Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look over my shoulder like that.”

Her words went in one ear and out the other, your mind too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the drawing to actually listen. Finally, the identity of the mystery pilgrim clicked, and you asked, “Why’d someone draw you in a picture with Crackstone?”

Her head whipped over to you, all complaints of you being there gone. “You know who this is?”

“Yeah,” you answered, “Joseph Crackstone. He’s like, Jericho’s chief colonizer. Founded the whole town or something.”

She didn’t respond, seeming to take in the information, but you didn’t want the conversation to die quite yet, so you carried on.

“Outreach Day is next week, are you excited? I, for one, am pumped to do menial work for no pay.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, then appeared to rethink her answer. “Actually yes, but not because of the forced child labor. I already have plans to further my investigation in Jericho.”

You perked up, leaning forward to try and catch her eyes. “Can I come?”

She didn’t even bother looking back at you when she answered, hard and firm.

“No.”

-

“Thanks for letting me come along, Wends!”

Wednesday clenched her jaw, expelling a sharp breath through her nose. This was the third time you’d said that in the past four hours, and while she was able to ignore the other two, the addition of that stupid nickname made holding herself back a third time impossible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And you’re only here because someone,” she sent Thing a murderous glare, “refused to cooperate without your agonizing presence.”

Your eyes widened, darting over to the hand resting on your shoulder. “Really?”

Thing gave a shy wave. A wide smile spread across your cheeks in response.

“Well thanks for advocating for me, bud. It means a lot,” you said with a hand over your heart, sounding far too cheerful for someone that just chased a dangerous monster.

Wednesday didn’t bother dignifying you with any more responses, turning back to the woods ahead. But that got her thinking.

Why had she let you come anyways?

There was no good reason that came to mind. You were insufferable. The human embodiment of vexation and foolishness and petulance. You were, in essence, all the traits she disliked in the general human race given physical form.

And yet, she had allowed you to come along.

Yes, Thing asked her time and time again to permit your presence, but instead of threatening his life like she should have done, she gave in with the silent promise of revenge.

It made no sense. You pushed boundaries, disobeyed orders, and disregarded her threats and insults with a garish smile like they were no more than a joke heard in passing.

And only now did she realize that she found it far less irritating than she did when she first met you.

The answer to why was unclear, but Wednesday wasn’t sure if that was because she was genuinely unsure of the reasoning behind her decision or because she didn’t want to figure it out.

Your annoying voice thankfully halted her mind’s trajectory.

“Of course, you’re my favorite Addams. You’re my best friend, the only other five-fingered appendage I’ll ever need in my life. Plus, Wednesday hates me so there’s no competition.”

Wednesday was once again stunned by the inane conversations you and Thing have on a daily basis. Some of the talks she’d overheard in the past months could be unironically described as mind-numbing.

Deciding to have some fun to pass the time, she turned to fully face you, running her eyes over your form before speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

She watched your eyes go wide and you looked at her with some odd form of hope. The corners of her lips twitched.

“I despise you. There’s a difference.”

Your head dropped exaggeratedly, but when you looked up again there was a smile on your face, making any notion of hers disappear.

She couldn’t stand that—the way you were never put off by anything she had to say.

Enid had the same tendency to shrug off her threats, but even she was unnerved when she first met Wednesday. But not you. Wednesday couldn’t think of a single time when anything she said, threat or otherwise, made you uncomfortable or fearful, and there was seldom anything that got under her skin more.

“That was mean, Wednesday. Really mean.” She noticed Thing say something on your shoulder and you gave a playful gasp in response. “Don’t laugh, Thing. That wasn’t funny,” you said, even though you were giggling yourself.

At the sight and sound of your laughter, something strange happened. Something combusted within her, and the flames spread, licking her sternum with an uncomfortable intensity. Like someone crudely lit a match and let it fall inside of her chest, allowing the fire to wreak havoc on her insides. It was unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant was the knowledge that this was not the first time this had happened. And that was but another in the long list of reasons why she shouldn’t have permitted your presence today.

She faced forward abruptly and kept walking, but you entered her peripheral moments later, no doubt ready to bother her with something.

As always, she was proven correct. “Hey, so you said that Crackstone was in that vision with your ancestor, right? And he killed a bunch of outcasts?”

“Correct.”

That mischievous smile she had come to recognize spread across your face, pulling your lips up at a slightly uneven angle.

“What do you say we get a little revenge?”

“And how exactly do you propose we get revenge on a pilgrim that died centuries ago?” she inquired skeptically.

You hummed. “Undecided but you go on ahead and just let the masterminds cook for a bit. I promise we’ll come up with something great.”

You and Thing flashed her a simultaneous thumbs-up, to which she just blinked. Not needing to be told twice, she started walking again, leaving you both to linger behind. Once there was a sufficient distance between you and her, she slowed slightly.

Though she had just made a vital discovery for her case, she figured this brief period of quiet would be better spent unpacking that persistent internal conflagration that flared whenever you were near.

Deigning to use her tried and true investigative process, she tried to start from the beginning, to gather all the information she had and prepare it for analysis, but she immediately got lost because truthfully, she couldn’t pinpoint the start of your assimilation into her daily routine.

Her…acquaintanceship with you made little sense, even to her. Especially to her. The same could also be said about her budding friendship? with Enid, but that was easier to parse.

Enid was her roommate; someone she quite literally couldn’t avoid since they lived together. But you weren’t. You were Thing’s friend, sure, but that didn’t answer the question of why Wednesday was becoming entangled with you as well.

However, looking at it from a logical perspective, it somewhat made sense.

A mutual penchant for mischief and practical jokes is what drew you and Thing together. In that same vein, she supposed that your insatiable appetite for adventure and her unquenchable thirst for triumph put you both on a collision course that neither of you could prevent. Especially in such a creatively stagnant climate as Nevermore.

A rebel and a renegade—two of a kind. You understood her and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she understood you.

She just didn’t know how to interpret the unexpected side effects that came with that mutual understanding.

(That was a lie, she realized. Somewhere deep down she knew, but she didn’t want it to mean what she thought it might. After all, she couldn’t possibly be letting someone like you turn her into an apostate to her own beliefs and morals…right?

She thought back to what she said to her mother on her first day, how hypocritical her words looked in the face of this dilemma. God, how pitiful of a circumstance she found herself in.)

Either way, Wednesday had allowed the sparks to ignite, and she knew that any chance she had of tempering the subsequent wildfire it caused was lessening with every moment she knowingly spent with you in her space.

Part of her didn’t want to anyway.

Approaching voices behind her caught her attention. Focusing on the present once more, she listened in.

“That’s an awesome idea, right?” she heard you say lowly.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. Everything was either cool, awesome, or amazing to you. She desperately needed to expand your vocabulary if you were going to be sticking around. For her sanity.

Wet footsteps neared, and you ran ahead of Wednesday, turning to face her with a demeanor resembling that of an excitable puppy. She sped up her pace, but you matched it, even while walking backward.

“Ok, Wednesday, plan secured. You know what I need?”

“A thesaurus?”

You blinked, brows furrowed, then shrugged. “Yeah, probably but I was actually gonna say that I need gasoline, and matches.”

“Well, there’s a hardware store a block down from the Weathervane, you could get gasoline from there. I have the matches covered.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow quirked, a grin appearing along with it. “You have matches on you?”

“Of course. I carry a box with me everywhere I go.”

Your smile widened.

Wednesday ignored the flames ravaging her organs and asked, “Are you going to tell me what this ‘plan’ is?”

“And ruin the surprise? No. All I’m gonna say is that you should have another song prepared for the unveiling.”

She narrowly avoided rolling her eyes again. Given the materials you needed, Wednesday had a good idea of what you were planning anyway, and thankfully, she had just the song in mind.

The three of you parted ways as you reentered the town proper, you and Thing running off to gather supplies, and Wednesday, after handing her matches over, headed into the square to prepare her cello.

Unsurprisingly, she was the first person there. She sat in the seat by her cello, languidly checking its strings more out of a need for something to do than because she needed to. Her cello was always perfectly tuned.

It didn’t take very long for you to follow, running into the square with a canister of gasoline and a bag of what looked to be gunpowder. She heard a low “let’s blow this fucker back to hell, Thing” before you split up, Thing pouring the gasoline in the base of the statue while you created a trail of black powder from the statue to behind the bleachers.

Wednesday watched you, the familiar feeling of being proven right tugging her lips upward. If nothing else, your flair for the dramatic was commendable.

You both finished and took refuge behind the bleachers just as people started filing in for the ceremony. As the normie high school band set up behind her, she took note of how nobody looked particularly enthused to be here (besides Enid, who would somehow find a way to be excited to watch paint dry).  

Soon, the ceremony was underway, and it was as underwhelming as Wednesday expected it to be. Just a plethora of fake smiles, stale claps, and off-key notes from the laughingstock of a “band” performing with her.

An explosion might not even be enough to resuscitate the audience at this point.

Once the fountain was turned on, Wednesday sent a sideways glance to you and you nodded, signaling something to Thing on the ground below. A trail of smoke and the telltale sound of burning gunpowder followed and Wednesday felt her dead heart begin to pick up pace at the thought of the coming anarchy.

Finally, the looming bronze figure burst into a brilliant ball of flame, the sound of the blast washing away the wretched off-key notes of the incompetent band behind her.

As the panic began to set in, her fingers moved on their own, relishing the familiar feel of the aching, discordant cords of Vivaldi’s Winter.

In moments, Jericho’s empty streets were flooded with people running in terror as sirens wailed in the distance. The harmonious screams that erupted from both outcasts and normies alike were almost more pleasant to her ears than the song that she was playing.

Principal Weems glared at her from afar, eyes narrowed in brewing suspicion, and Wednesday stared right back, lips coiling into a poisonous smile.

Tearing her eyes away from the principal, she peered through the haze of the smoke toward the bleachers. You were watching her with wide, awestruck eyes and a smile. You only looked away briefly to give Thing a fist bump before turning back toward her, but her gaze never faltered from you. Even with all of the glorious chaos happening around her.

That horrible, detestable feeling in her chest returned with a vengeance, blazing brighter than the raging fire to her right. But in this moment, she welcomed it, let it fuel her as the music reached its climax.

As the warm orange glow of the flames reflected off the raw excitement and amazement in your eyes and her treacherous song came to its end, Wednesday recognized that perhaps neither hatred nor disdain was quite the right word to describe how she felt for you after all.

And perhaps becoming a heretic and a hypocrite wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all (though it would certainly be close). 

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Soulmates

Words: 824

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

It was a truth universally acknowledged by the sixth years that Sirius Black had a secret.

Until his seventeenth birthday, he would take any opportunity to strip down to his pants, or even less. But that suddenly changed. He'd even stopped getting changed in the dormitory, taking his clothes into the bathroom to dress each morning and evening.

Marlene was convinced he’d gotten a tattoo he was embarrassed about. Remus and James were more concerned about spell damage from his family. Sirius point blank refused to discuss it with any of them, and after a month, they eventually stopped pushing the matter.

On Lily’s birthday, something happened that made Remus panic more than the possibility of spell damage littering Sirius’ skin. He was finishing up prefect rounds when he heard a sniffle from the cosy alcove in the library. He poked his head around the corner and was startled to see Lily wiping her eyes furiously.

He was by her side in a second, “What happened?” She shook her head. “Lils. Is it Snape? Did he—“

“No, it’s not— it’s not that.” She sniffed, “Something appeared on my skin today and I have a feeling that I know what it means but…”

“A soul mark?”

“I think so. It’s on my fucking collarbone. At least Sirius’ is on his—“ She covered her mouth quickly. “Shit, you didn’t hear that.”

“Sirius has a soul mark? Fuck. That’s why he stopped getting his kit off twice a week?” Remus stared at her collarbone as if he expected to be able to see it through her robes. “Wait. He showed you?”

She shook her head, “I saw it by accident. Someone gave him the password to the prefects' bathroom.” She said pointedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said with a smirk. “So, on your collarbone? Can I see?”

She sighed, undid the top couple of buttons on her shirt, and slid it aside, pushing her robes back. On her collarbone, several fine lines made up a pair of delicate antlers.

Remus pressed his lips together. “Remus Lupin, don’t you dare laugh at me.” She glared at him. “It’s ’Prongs’, right? That’s what Prongs means?”

He nodded, “Yeah. His patronus is a stag.”

“You all think everyone is so stupid and oblivious, I swear. There was a whole month last year where those three idiots claimed to have a lisp as a result of a potion gone wrong. You could very clearly see the mandrake leaf under their tongues the whole time. They’re unregistered animagi.” She did up her buttons slowly. “I’m guessing Pete is some kind of rodent and Sirius is a gross, mangy, little dog.”

“Who else knows?” Remus had frozen. “They were so sure that they wouldn’t be found out. Idiots.”

“Nobody that I know of. I wasn’t about to tell anyone, I figured it related to the moons.” She smiled at him. “Honestly, the day I figured it out was the day I thought ‘Huh, maybe Potter isn’t a complete tosser’. But if you tell him I said that, I’ll hex you so hard.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And yours with me, always.” She sighed again, “James’ birthday is in March, right?”

“Yeah, a couple of weeks after mine. Are you going to tell him?”

She hummed thoughtfully, “It’d probably be funnier to wake up and let him see it himself. But that means covering myself up for two months. I don’t want to get all obsessive and weird about it like Sirius.”

“Is it bad? Sirius’ mark?”

“I— It wouldn’t be fair to tell you about it.” Lily touched his shoulder gently. “He’ll tell you all when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right.” He stood up. “Anyway, I believe there’s a bottle of Firewhiskey or two waiting back in our dorm. Marlene will be getting antsy.”

***

On Remus’ birthday, he awoke at 7:37 am to a very peculiar tingling sensation on his left bum cheek. He rushed to the bathroom, not checking to see if anyone else was awake yet. He twisted around, pulling down his boxers on one side, trying to look in the mirror, but it was too high. He tried twisting around again.

“It’s stars.” A quiet voice said from behind him. “Canis Major.”

Remus looked up into the mirror and made eye contact with Sirius, who lingered in the doorway. “And yours?”

“The moon phases.” He shrugged, lowering his pyjama bottoms slightly as if he hadn’t been shielding his body from scrutiny for almost six months.

Remus took a step toward Sirius, not taking his eyes off the nine small circles, but before he could say anything, James burst in, took in the scene of his two friends admiring one another’s arses, and quickly retreated.

“Pete, do not go in there!” They heard him shout from under his pillow.

Sirius started to chuckle as a smile tugged at Remus’ lips “Happy Birthday, Moons.”

[author’s note: idk if it’s because I’m currently on day 8 of a covid infection (send help) but the image of Remus trying to see his bum in the mirror and essentially chasing his tail like a dog has me laughing, coughing and wheezing so hard.]

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Guilt Tripping - Yan! Diluc

Yandere Diluc x Fem! Reader

part 1 of the “Baby Trapping” series

Warnings: Toxic relationship, general yandere themes, guilt tripping (I think), emotional manipulation, slight victim blaming (I think?), drugging, implied future physical violence (Not towards reader), possessive and obsessive thoughts and behavior, overprotectiveness, overbearing actions, controlling actions/mindset, unhealthy and toxic mindset, paranoia, implied Yandere! Albedo (Towards a different reader of perhaps the same mini-series of this).

Not sfw warnings: Baby trapping, dub-c0n/non-c0n, unprotected sEx, cumming inside without permission, unconsensual and unethical use of aphrodisiacs, vaginal fingering, clothed grinding, loss of virginity (both parties and totally didn't forget to add this warning until now)

Diluc is straight up gaslighting himself in this. He’s aware of how awful he is but keeps justifying it lmao.

Please tell me if I missed any warnings that are needed.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT condone any of the toxic behavior and thoughts that may take place in this work of fiction. None of this should be romanticize or even considered normal as it is very toxic and very dangerous. If you find yourself in such a situation, please seek help if able to.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

WARNING: DUE TO TUMBLR’S SHITTY TAGGING SYSTEM, NOT EVERY TRIGGER WARNING WILL BE TAGGED, SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS THAT ARE WRITTEN ABOVE. THANK YOU.

MINORS AND AGLESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. THANK YOU.

Unedited.

Word count: 5134k

===

Diluc was aware that he could be… overbearing, at times. He’s aware that his presence can be suffocating, that he can be a bit delusional at times, and that he’s a bit controlling when it comes to you. But be doesn’t mean to do that on purpose – you just manage to bring out both the worse and the best out of him.

Whether or not you’re aware of that fact is up for debate.

He’s been preparing for the day you snap and talk back, or to take some ‘much needed’ space from the relationship. He can’t deny that your sanity is slowly withering away the more you deal with him. Again, he doesn’t mean to make you so stressed.

He just wants what’s best for you, as long as you come back into his arms. There are understandings at times, where you listen instead of charging away like a bull. He knows that you know he cares deeply for you, loves you to the moon and back. That he’d be willing to do almost anything for you.

Anything but this.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

One sentence, five words, is all it takes for his words to come crashing down around him. ‘I need a break’ implies you’ll be back after a week or so. It’s happened once or twice throughout your entire two years of your relationship. And it never lasted more than a week, max.

Diluc can feel the thin thread snapping like a nose around a neck. He swears that the world comes to a halt at your words, seeing nothing but white. Is he undergoing shock? Perhaps he heard you wrong. Yeah, that’s it – you must have said something else. A prank maybe? Or maybe you mixed up your words.

“What… what do you mean?” He hates the way his voice cracks, how shaky his hands become, even when they’re clenched hard enough to snap metal into two. Your facial expression doesn’t show any signs of playfulness.

There’s nothing playful about this situation.

You let out a sigh, fingers massaging your temple. “I said… I’m breaking up with you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with you anymore.” Your voice cracks, and there’s a silent sob. There’s a huff, an intake of air.

You’re trying your best not to break down in front of him. And he’s doing the same, fists clenching and unclenching as he thinks of something to say. What should he say? That you can’t leave? It’ll only make things more complicated, making you hostile towards him.

He can’t have that. He just can’t. but even so, he finds himself about to utter those words out loud. He bites his tongue.

“���I thought I was good to you. While… I do understand that I can get overbearing at times… I thought I was a good lover to you regardless of.” He tries to keep himself in check. Diluc was nothing but a good gentleman in your eyes, so he acts as such. Although, that illusion may be gone now.

“That’s the problem! You think you’re a good boyfriend. But you’re not. you’re so… overbearing and controlling. I can’t even talk to people you don’t approve of!” Your own thread had seemingly snapped, leaving nothing more than rage behind. Quite, dull rage that’s too exhausting to come out at once.

“You say it’s for my own good… that I need your protection…”

“I never said that- “

“You implied it. Every. Single. Time. you always imply it.”

There’s nothing but silence. There’s a guilty conscience. He can’t ignore it, but he won’t address it. Because that means he’ll have to let go. And he won’t, not even in death, where hell will surely drag him down. He’ll drag you if he has to.

“We can… let’s just talk about this, okay? No need to make any rash decisions.” He’s talking out of his ass right now. “It’s… been a stressful week. It’s late and we both got out of work not too long ago. Let’s just… how about you come over?”

You don’t say anything, not at first. A glimmer of hope. Yes, everything will go back to normal, over a glass or two, ending with you being a whimpering mess as he grinds against you. Just like always.

“No. I can’t… I won’t do that. It always has the same outcome anyway. We never ‘talk’, you just sweet talk your way out, and it ends with some type of sexual activity.”  You shake your head, taking a step back. He takes a step forward.

It feels wrong for you to stand so far away. Alien. You should be next to him, no, in his arms as he soothes you. Reality and fantasy don’t mix well, he realizes. “Please,” he tries again, choking on air.

It can’t end like this. It can’t end at all.

“Diluc… I can’t. I just can’t. I know it may be hard for you to understand but, whether you realize it or not… you treat me like a doll. A pretty, fragile, glass doll.” You don’t look him in the eyes, probably can’t.

To be fair, it felt worse on your own end. You loved this man. You wanted to marry him. But it’s in past tense and you’re not sure if you can keep up this happy façade. He’s nothing but controlling at this point, overprotective, suffocating. You can’t live in denial anymore.

Another sigh, another sob. With every step he takes towards you, you take one back. There’s an invisible wall between you, too hard to shatter. At least completely.

“Hey… let’s talk again in a week. When the steam blows off, okay?” You try not to break, he sees it. The way your body tenses, the slight tumble. He makes an effort to not point it out. “Please?”

And you cave, breaking down, wailing like a child. You don’t move away, only flinching as he closes in on you, gently and slowly wrapping his arms around you. his grip on you is loose, not wanting to chase you away. Gentle, he must be gentle.

It’s always worked in the past. He just needs to tweak a few things to guarantee victory. Anything for you, no matter how shady it may be. His morals become dubious when it comes to you.

A few minutes pass before you answer.

“Alright.”

--

Truthfully, you didn’t want to go, your resolve going down the drain whenever it came to you. But you had already promised you would, weak in that moment. But he knew. He knew that you would eventually succumb to his wishes. It happens every time.

And it ends with heated kisses, hands exploring each other’s bodies, promises to wait for the full act after marriage huffed into your ears. Despite the bulge straining in his pants, hazy eyes that kept looking at your kiss swollen lips, he never did anything you were uncomfortable with. And for that, you were grateful. But it doesn’t excuse his other behavior.

Something didn’t feel right. You were nothing short of tense, weary of what’s to come. Would he try to pull something? Or procced to guilt trip you once more, as unknowingly as usual? You could never tell with him, despite dating for two years.

Two years and he became a different person.

No. Beneath that gentlemanly exterior lies a control, obsessive and possessive freak. And you fell for it, the charm, the words, the looks. You dug your own grave without even knowing. And now it’s time to dig your way out, no matter how painful it may be.

You just hope your resolve will stay strong.

It must.

--

Diluc was nervous. It was more common these days, a nervous Diluc. He can’t help it but to be nervous around you. You were just so pretty, adorable, irresistible. And there was a time where you thought the same, where you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him. And yet, you don’t anymore.

He’s aware why. It’s because of him. But you need to understand was for your protection. He has too many enemies, there’s too much danger in the outside world. Surly, you would come around eventually, right?

Wrong. He was so, so wrong. He should have kept up with the gentle approach, no matter the amount of years it might have taken. It’s not too late to restart… right?

Just act the way you always portrayed him as. His mask has slipped too much too quickly. And now, he needs to fix everything as quickly as possible. The question is how to.

He glances at the wine bottle. A little drug as curiosity of Sir Albedo… a new and up coming drug. An aphrodisiac is what he called it. It was still in its developmental stages, but harmless. He was even given the right dose.

A questioning look in the alchemist’s eyes, no concerns were voiced. Most likely thought it wasn’t his business. And besides… even the esteemed Alchemist Albedo Kreideprinz had skeletons in his closet. Likeminded people must stick together, right?

And thus, the aphrodisiac was handed to him under the table, and now in this ‘new’ and ‘unopened’ bottle of wine. The cork was a new one, the previous one hastily thrown into the trash, covered with other discarded things. Not a smooth cover-up, but one you wouldn’t notice. And, if you were to ask for juice, he even drugged that beforehand.

He flinches slightly when a servant comes up to him, announcing your appearance. He takes in a deep breath before grabbing the bottle and two glasses, making his way to the study. When he gets there, he pauses. Would he be able to pull this off?

If you do ask for it, he has your consent, right? Yes, you wanted to save yourself for marriage but…

He shakes his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. He’ll back down if he thinks about too much. So, he takes a deep breath, straightens himself. His feet feel heavy as he walks into the room. He keeps the door open.

“(name). You came.”

You jolt at that, whipping your head around to see his figure at the doorway.

“Yes… just for a bit. This isn’t a casual visit, after all.” You built a wall around yourself, trying to smile but failing. He doesn’t comment on it.

“Ah. I suppose that’s… right.” Awkward silence, your hands tightly clasping together. His own grip on the glasses and bottle are tight as well. Swiftly, he places the objects down on the table in front of you. Everything has to be perfect. This night needs to end on a good note.

“Wine?” he asks, eyeing the way your jaw tenses as you hesitate to answer. You want to say no, he can see it, feel it. And hopefully, you won’t. His legs are already shaking like a newborn foal’s.

“I… sure.” A quiet sigh of relieve, and he opens the bottle, a loud ‘pop’ echoing in the room. You don’t take your eyes off of it. You’re weary of him. And he doesn’t have the right to complain or even feel offended.

Because you were right to be weary. To be weary of him.

He pours you a glass and himself one. He’s going to take the drug with you. God, he’s already silently regretting this. Not because he’s tricking you (although that’s part of it), but because he’ll have to explain, in detail (something he dreads, but a favor is a favor) of the results. He hates himself for being used a test subject and ragging you into it.

He can’t feel bad, considering he was the one who chose this route.

“Thank you…” you say as he passes a glass to you. He sits in front of you, the plush chair soft against him. He takes a sip.

“So… about our relationship… do you truly want to end it? We can work through this together.” He croaks out, trying his best not to ramble. He takes a deep breath, calming his nerves. He can do this.

“… I’m not sure if this relationship is savable. Two years and you’ve just gotten… worse. Much worse than you have gotten better. It’s like you’ve been possessed.” He can see your eyes water up, but you don’t let them fall.

He wants to wipe them away.

“What do you mean?” He’s never felt so scared in his life. He hates this. He hates himself. “It’s just… I know I can get overbearing, and I promise that I don’t do it on purpose-“

You cut him off, “That’s the problem. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s harder to resent you that way.”

Resent him? What do you mean by that?

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do. You’re… you used to be a good boyfriend. Someone I wanted to marry… but you’re not that same person anymore. And I’m not sure if we can fix this… if you can fix yourself. I’m not a therapist… yet you treated me as one for years.”

Your shoulders slack and you don’t make an effort to look at him. You don’t make an effort to drink the wine either.

He can feel his heart breaking. What should he do? What can he do? Crying (a rare sight indeed) won’t do anything. It’ll only prove you right if he cries and begs for you to reconsider. He needs you to drink the wine. A good amount of it.

He takes another swing, enough to the point the glass is almost empty. Too much at once, he hasn’t even eaten yet. He wants to eat you. But not when you’re crying like this.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I was that… inconsiderate.” Ever so slowly, he takes small steps towards you. You don’t resist when he gets on his knees, gently placing his head on your lap. His arms wrap around your legs. And, almost as if it was natural, your hand comes town to thread fingers through his hair.

Even when you ‘resent’ him, you still comfort him. You really were too good for him. But it’s because of that he doesn’t want to let go. No. he’d never let you go. He’ll drag you to hell if he has to.

“… To think the esteemed Diluc would beg on his knees… hah,” a humorless laugh that shakes him through his core. You sound tired, so, so tired. You’re really going to give up on him. Was he really that bad? Sure, maybe he overshared, at times, and was a bit controlling, but…

He never hit you. Never raised his voice at you.

He’s in denial. He doesn’t want to admit to his mistakes right now. He’ll do it (probably) after you two make up. He’ll do it once you say you won’t leave, that you won’t give up on him, on the relationship. You’re all he has left.

His father’s dead, his ‘brother’ is a spy, he can’t really get along with anyone on an emotional level. Anyone except you. You know this, so why are you putting him through this? Can’t you see he needs you?

God helps the poor soul would dare take you away.

“… I’m sorry. I really am,” useless, he’s so useless right now. Helpless, he hates himself, he hates you. “I… can’t lose you. I love you, you know that, right?” Like he wasn’t the one pushing you away with his behavior and actions.

He’s a horrible person, a dreadful and emotional abusive boyfriend. The naked eye can’t see it, but a trained one can. Likeminded people can. The victim can.

“Diluc… sit down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick,” you run your fingers through his red mop of hair before retreating it. No, no, no, you can’t do that. You just can’t.

You have to drink the wine. You need to understand he’s protecting you. You need to understand he needs you. So, stay, please.

Don’t make things even more complicated.

“… do you love me?” He looks up, eyes glossy and he watches as your strong façade crumble. He was your weakness as you were his. You’re perfect for each other, however toxic the relationship may be.

“I… I don’t know anymore. I feel like I love you, but I know I shouldn’t.” Shaking your head, you gently push at his shoulders. The effort is weak, almost meaningless. He gives a squeeze before getting up and returning to his seat.

It’s when he sits down, head falling into his hands, when you take a swing. He hears you slam the glass on the mahogany wood. Hope lights up in his chest, but even so, it feels so wrong. But he needs to do this. For him. For you.

How selfish of a person he was.

“… I can’t promise I won’t fall back into the habit, but –“

“You said that last time. And here we are, again. You say you’ll do better, that you’ll listen. Sure, you do, but only for a week. And then the cycle repeats.” You sigh out, now crying, finally breaking down despite everything.

Sobs, ugly sobs that he hates to hear. He’s not sure when he got up, or how long he’s been hugging you, but he knows that you need comfort. Maybe not from him, but he’s the only one here anyway. The servants are outside, cleaning the yard, tending to the grapes, shooing of pests.

Just you and him. No-one will hear, and even if they did… who are they to question their boss? Money talks.

You stay like that, for a while. Crying in his arms as he strokes your hair. He’s not sure when you had stopped, and completely forgotten about the drug.

He only remembers it when his body starts to heat up. And the same must be said for you, as you’re quivering in his grasp. The way you quiver whenever he drags you across his crotch, erection making contact with your clothed pussy.

Like right now, your hips rolling against his as he practically dragged you to the couch in the study once you started to kiss out of pure lust. You’re panting above him, eyes shut tight. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. He hates it, but that’s okay. As long as you’re here, with him, and not thinking of another man.

“Fuck… my body’s hot. I’m scared yet I can’t stop… did you put something in the drink?” You question him, voice broken and breathy as you keep rolling your hips. Harder, faster, more friction, you need him as much as he needs you. He’ll get you, and you’ll have him.

Like it’s supposed to be.

“Are you… mmh… that weary of me?” You’re far too gone to properly hear him, chasing pleasure above answers. His gloved fingers tug at your skirt, wanting it off. He wants to see you bare. Patience... patience, he tells himself.

A squeal, mouth open and he can’t help but kiss you. saliva everywhere, any pretense of a breakup gone. For now. And yet you both don’t care, delving into the pits of pleasure that’ll never be enough. He bites your lips hard enough to draw blood, you claw at his neck deep enough to see crimson.

You hurt and take, hurt and take. You break his heart, he’ll break your mind on his cock. Just… be good.

“Diluc… wedding… I want to wait – oh! – but… ah… not sure if I can…” you’re groping yourself, thumb ribbing at where your nipple would be. Too many clothes, hot, clit throbbing while grinding against him like there’s no tomorrow. Diluc takes this chance to tease you, just a bit.

“Wedding… you still want to marry me?” There’s a slight teasing to it, and he proceeds to kiss your neck. Gently, gently, so gentle you want more. He wants to drive you crazy. “But, of course, if you want it now, I won’t say no…”

Another moan, another messy kiss. Your lips are raw by now, and you’re not sure when he dragged the front of your shirt down, sucking on the bare skin before him. He bites your neck, leaving marks, he gropes your breasts, your hands now tugging at his hair.

He hisses at the sting, but it only drives him to do more. His free hand dives under your dress, the skirt of it wrinkled now.

“Diluc… please, fuck, I need you,” you breathe out, grinding against his hand as he teases you through your underwear. Slowly, he brings his hand back, using his teeth to take his glove off. Almost, he’s almost there. He needs to loosen you up. Hopefully, hopefully this drug will help with the pain.

Ah. Blood.

He needs to do this in the bedroom, easier to change the sheets.

--

You’re naked in no time, and despite the drug running through your veins like fire, you’re still scared. Very scared, and he feels so horrible about it. and yet, yet he can’t stop himself for shit. He’s horrible, shitty, controlling, obsessive, possessive, and desperate. Paranoid to a fault, he plans on tying you to him via family.

It’s hard to raise a child on your own. Reputation is important, and everyone would lose respect for you, for a good while at first. And besides… they would know who the father was. If they inherit his features, be it the red hair or ruby eyes, they’ll know. They’ll blame one of you, both of you, taking one side or the other.

Thus, it’s just overall easier to stay together, avoiding controversy. A horrible and risky plan. But you would need the support, the funds, the father. It’s harder, nearly impossible to run away from him in such a state.

“Hey… it’ll be okay. I’ll take it slow, alright?” He reassures you, smiling down at you gently. He’s always imagined you like this – a panting mess, lips kiss swollen, hair sprayed around his pillow and your hair. Bite marks everywhere, nipples tendered from being sucked on so much.

He’ll make a mental note to be more gentle next time. But for now, he trails down his hand, fingers ghosting over your burning skin. Shaky breaths, and he can’t take his eyes off of the way you stare downwards. He’s naked too, his own hickies littering his neck like a necklace.

“G-gentle…,” you breathe out, legs shaking in both fear and anticipation. You can’t wait, and neither can he. So he doesn’t, tracking your slick slit once before slowly entering. A gasp, and h looks up to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Instead, he’s met with the sight of you biting your lips, pleasure written all over your face. The drug works, it’s helping with the pain. Making things far easier than he thought it would be. He’ll make sure to thank Albedo to the moon and back.

“Diluc…” He’s brought back to reality when you whimper his name, and he softly shushes you. If you say his name like that one more time, he might just slip in without any prep. Without any consideration.

“Shh… there’s no need to rush. Let’s try to take our time, okay?” He kisses your forehead, finger curling slightly inside you. The way you arch your back is heavenly, the drug making you far more sensitive. “I’ll take good care of you. Promise.”

Nodding, you relax, allowing him to add a second finger. It feels rushed despite his words, but you don’t comment on it. You can’t, not when he’s curling them oh so deliciously. And he knows this, he’s not completely lost in lust just yet. He needs to drown you in pleasure, drive you crazy with it before he succumb to his own desire completely.

Just a bit more.

The squelching echoes in his room, bouncing off the walls. His ribs had become a drum, his heart the stick. Small, needy breaths that leave your lips, crying out when he curls his fingers at a certain angle. Oh. He found it.

Your g-spot.

He’s heard of it, and thought it was rubbish at first. Until Adelinde smacked his head when he suggested such a thing. The Head Maid made sure to educate him on sex that day, showing diagrams and pictures, along with books written about the subject. He’s almost entirely forgotten about it.

“There?” he asks, repeating the action once more. You nod your head several times and in quick succession – too lucid to properly beg, too desperate to fully think it thoroughly. “Such a needy little thing,” a third finger elicits a hiss from you, causing him to pause. He waits until you give him the green light.

“It – it feels weird… but good at the same time. Is this normal?” Croaking, you’re croaking out sentences now, and Diluc resists the urge to kiss you until you run out of breath. Your fingers grasp at his shoulders, trembling slightly. He can’t tell if it’s from fear or pleasure.

For his own sanity, he hopes it’s the latter.

“I’m… not sure. I think it is. Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll slow down.”

He didn’t say he would stop.

Diluc sees the worry in your eyes, the questions he won’t answer, and he feels guilty. It’s far too late to stop, and even if you were to ask him of it, he wouldn’t be able to. So he gives you the illusion of choice, and from the way your eyes travel down to where he’s fingering you, he can only guess you chose to ignore the reasoning in your head. What a good girl you are for and to him. Like always.

“Diluc… Diluc…” your eyes shut tight, breathing heavier as he fastens his pace, fingers pumping in and out while curling all the same. You need this too, right? He can’t force you if you were the one who asked for it.

Your belly tightens, and hips grind against the hell of his palm. You’re almost there, he thinks. You’re becoming wild, all pretense of rationally gone with the wind. He’s there, he’s there, you’re there, shivering in the palm of his hand. Like you should be.

“Ah, ah, fuck!” One more buck of your hips and he feels something wet. Upon looking down, he notices something red, very thing and small, mixed with a clear liquid. Did you cum? He feels bad for making you bleed already*.

Your chest heaves, and for a moment, he’s afraid you’ll come back to your sense. You’ll hate him for sure. But his own body is burning, cock twitching, and he’s going to die if you resist. Please, just make everything simple and easy. Please, for both of your sakes.

He gives you time to recover despite the urge to fuck you silly. Patience, patience, at least pretend to be a gentleman he tells himself. Anything and everything for you. Except letting you go.

“Do you need a breather?” gently, gently he removes his fingers, trying his best to treat you nicely. He tries not to grit his teeth when you nod your head. He’s already doing something awful. He needs to make you comfortable, at the very least.

A few minutes before you calm down, laying flat on your back, hands leaving him and choosing to grip his sheets instead. You’re distancing yourself from him. A bit lucid, but enough to resist.

“Alright… please be gentle,” closing your eyes, your arousal is still there, you still need him as badly as he needs you. He doesn’t wait a second to hover above you properly. His place, this is his place, you’re his and will always be his. You signed your faith the moment you appeared in his life.

“Gentle…,” he tells himself, taking in a deep breath. It stings you when he pushes in, slowly and gentle like he promised. Hands grip your hips, and he leans back on his heels a bit. You gasp, from pleasure mostly, and he stills. Be a gentleman in appearance, at least.

One second, two seconds, and at ten he starts to move. a deep sigh of pleasure from you both, yours higher than his. The tone was different compared to when you dragged your hips across his, clothes separating you. But now, now he can feel everything – the thought of a condom never having crossed your mind once. Good, everything is sailing smoothly.

“You’re, ngh, tight… fuck, you’re driving me crazy angel.” Unexpectedly, you mewl at the nickname, and without meaning too, he gives a hard thrust. Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. One thrust, two thrust, and you’re begging him to fuck you harder at the fifth one, legs wrapping around his waist and hands clawing at his chest.

He loves you like this; he wants you remain so needy for him. “Diluc! Fuck, don’t stop!” Both blood and slick cover his cock and make a mess on his bed. He’ll have to give you a warm towel after this, a glass of water. And a lie about cumming inside.

“It feels good, fuck why did we wait so long?” His hips can’t stop moving as he questions you. You don’t answer, you can’t when you’re moaning like a whore. And he loves it, he loves the fact that only he can make you this way. He loves the fact that he’ll be your first and last partner.

He might hurt a man who would dare to attempt to do the same.

It doesn’t last long, neither of you do. He makes sure to circle your clit with his thumb, wanting to bring you more pleasure. You needed to finish with him. You needed to be distracted from the feeling of his cum painting your womb white.

And when he does, he lets out a low groan, your squeal music to his ears. he holds you tight until his balls are empty. And ever so slowly pulls out, careful to not alarm you. His goal was done, and hopefully, this’ll be enough to get you pregnant.

If not, he’ll come up with other plans.

“I love you…” one of his hands comes down to wipe away the sweat from your forehead. Your skin is sticky, eyes dazed. It’s a sight he’ll never forget.

You don’t answer, not at first.

“I… I love you too.”

A soft peck and he’s up to soak a towel in warm water. You’re too tired to check your lower half, eyes closing against your will. But it’s okay, it’s Diluc after all. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything… right?

As for Diluc… he’s already coming up with baby names.

 ===

 A/N:* - tmi but the very first time I got fingered, I bleed a bit lmao. I don’t know how it is for everyone else, so I just used my own experiences. Seriously though, acting like Diluc in this fic is fucked up. Please don’t do that.

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 7

2.3k | angst, suggestive Keegan was the common denominator (part 1) (part 8)

Keegan felt like he was losing his fucking mind.

It was a full moon that Friday night, but it had been long since he’d learnt to control his urges, and they were never about chasing or biting. Even when he felt “alright” the day after, he didn’t trust himself. He locked himself home that weekend, not wanting to find out what other shenanigan his body was doing to him.

Of course you’d texted and called, but in his panic, he barely wanted to talk, still ashamed of what he did to you. It was an understatement to say he freaked out. His short texts only assured he was alright, but couldn’t meet.

The week dragged on, unbearable, like nails on a hundred chalkboards. Instead of you, his hoodies and beanies you wore were his only company. He couldn’t keep you in the dark, hell, he always knew this. The dagger was his silent promise, but what happened made him think twice if it was a good idea that you were involved with him. He didn’t know what he was capable of anymore.

On the couch, as the TV played quietly in the background, he stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Raider curled up by his feet, the bland takeaway dinner half-eaten on the coffee table. He lamented the past few months, that he got damn close to getting what he wanted. How it had perched in his palm, but before he could grasp it, it had floated away.

Perhaps it was just as well he never met your girlfriends, saved you the shame of being involved with someone like him. A weakling who couldn’t even tell you what he felt towards you.

“Guess it’s just you and me again, buddy.” Like how it’s always meant to be.

His phone dinged. He knew it was you from the custom tone he’d set. He reached for it, dread lodged in his throat from having to give you another sorry excuse when what he wanted to do the most was to touch you, hold you in his arms.

It’s obvious you’re not into this anymore. I would appreciate it if you’re honest so we can both move on from this.

He sat up so fast, his head spun as his heart pounded against his ribs. No, no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

I’m heading to yours right now.

When Keegan got to your door, he was panting from sprinting up the stairs.

For the first time, understandably, you didn’t answer with a smile. You let him in wordlessly and he followed you to sit at the dining table where a huge bag lay. Judging by one of his jackets poking out of it, you had packed his stuff. His stomach twisted.

You stared at him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so scrutinised, disgraceful. He averted his gaze to his clenched fists under the table.

“I’m not asking for a reason, but I hope you know what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

He swallowed. “Yes, I know. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I don’t want to be your second choice.”

He looked up at the wobble of your voice. “You’re not. There’s never been anyone else, only you.“

“Good.” It was your turn to look away, brows furrowed as you blinked hard. “Okay. Well, thanks for showing up.” You voice cracked as you pushed the bag towards him. “Here are your things.”

“Pea-“ He caught himself, sighing heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t come here to say goodbye, but if you could hear me out… I’m not ready to talk about it, but something happened last year on a mission and I haven’t been the same. Last Friday, I got really scared when I hurt you. I’d never done that before and I’m terrified of doing it again. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I do.”

Your gaze stayed on him.

“I’m still into you. Fuck me, I’m still so fucking into you.” He laughed to himself. “I hated not seeing you, but I’m stuck. I don’t know what’s happening to me and I don’t know what to do. I’m scared you’d leave if I tell you.”

Your eyes softened. He’d missed you so much, your eyes, your smile, your voice. The past week had been truly horrible.

“I don’t know what happened, and I’m not going to make you tell me if you’re not ready.” You paused. “But if you’re worried my feelings would change, no, I don’t think they will, if you’re the same Keegan I’ve been spending my time with the past few months. Are you?”

“I am,” he said breathlessly.

“Then I don’t see what you need to be scared,” you whispered, a tear finally slipping.

“I never want to see you cry, peanut.” He knelt beside you and wiped the stray tear with his thumb. “Especially not because of me.”

“Don’t make me feel like I’m the only one who wants this,” you said in a small voice, eyes closed as you tilted towards his touch.

“I won’t, I promise.” He pressed his face onto your shoulder, arms wrapping around you. He felt like the biggest idiot for making you feel like he didn’t want you. “I’ll tell you what happened-”

“Just hold me.”

Later, upon your request, he carried you to bed as the heat crept up his neck. With the lights off, you pulled him with you when he laid you down, sighing as he finally tasted your soft lips again. Despite the dark, he saw your silhouette, the way you bit your lip as you lay bare for him, under him. You were hopelessly beautiful, the way your lips parted, the way your body shivered under his touch. Your hooded gaze made his breath hitch.

All for me.

He pressed against you, feeling everything he always wanted, your thighs soft against his hips. His chest was going to explode at the noises filling the room, the lovely cries of yours that had been a mere fantasy to him.

“My pretty, pretty little thing,” he panted against your temple between kisses as you clung desperately to him, your back arching.

He’d tell you tomorrow, he swore to himself. He wanted all of this and he’d get his heart shattered into a thousand pieces trying to keep it.

Keegan wished he didn’t wake up from the best sleep of his life for a few more hours, but the soldier in him thought otherwise. You were in his arms in nothing but a t-shirt, the comforter kicked halfway off the bed. His gaze lingered on you. With the early sun caressing your flawless skin, you couldn’t be more beautiful to him.

“I love you, peanut,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

He thought he saw your lips curl into the softest smile. He let out a small chuckle before pulling the comforter over you and that’s when he saw it. From your hip down to your upper thigh ran a set of tan birthmarks resembling scratches.

Just like his scar from that night.

Fated mates share scars and/ birthmarks… Rejection would cause the werewolf to stay in his wolf form permanently by the 8th full moon…

His body went cold. You were his mate. If he thought your addicting scent was an amusing coincidence, it was undeniable now with the scar you shared. He counted, that night he bit you was the 6th full moon since he first saw you in the woods.  The clock had started ticking long ago and he was none the wiser.

It dawned on him it wasn’t his imagination that his sight and smell became better, reflexes faster, that these bizarre impulses had been tormenting his mind as he neared his curse of eternal savagery.

He got dressed and left as fast as he could, being careful to not wake you. Back at his, he sat on the couch with a blank stare, Raider next to him, confused by his grave handler.

Am I dying?

Okay, no, he wasn’t, but he was turning into a wolf. He knew he said being a wolf wasn’t bad at all, but that was before you. Now he just wanted to be normal, to be with you.

What the fuck was he going to say to you? ‘Yeah, if you don’t return the feelings of the huge wolf from the woods who’s hopelessly in love with you and won’t let him bite your neck at the next full moon. Well, I’ll be that wolf forever and foam at the mouth from a broken-heart.’

What about his mum? His friends? ‘Last year a wolf attacked me in the field and I’ve been able to turn into one ever since. Oh, and because no one loves me, I won’t be human anymore so goodbye forever! Don’t come visit me in the woods if you don’t want rabies.’

What would he do as a wolf, nap all day? He needed a job. Would Elias consider a wolf a K9? If not, his deployment in two days would be one of the last. He’d never be able to hold a rifle ever again, cook grenades or toss flashbangs, or bark orders and scare the scrawny recruits.

What would he eat in the woods? Warm, raw meat sounded irredeemably revolting and riddled with pathogens. He wouldn’t be able to eat PB sandwiches anymore, nor his mum’s lasagna. It had been too long since he saw his family and had his mum’s cooking too. He missed them, and you hadn’t even met them yet.

It hit like a ton of bricks to realise how much he came to appreciate in the past months, how much he held close to his heart now. A striking contrast, when for years he gladly took risks, unattached to his life, ready to go to hell any day. But after you… With your laughter and company, the world seemed to not be half as bad at all.

Keegan was fucked. He didn’t deserve you. To have you return his feelings was too tall an order when you could have anyone. His chances were in the negatives.

But he had to tell you, even if you didn’t feel the same and he’d turn into a wolf next month. At least you had to know how he felt for you.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn’t realise it was way past noon. He left without saying a word. Guilt-ridden, he reached for his phone to call you, but it rang in his hand instead.

It was Merrick, calling for an emergency shipping out. Immediately, Keegan packed and rushed to base with Raider. After a thorough mission brief and preparations, the Ghosts boarded the plane at sundown. It was then he realised he never got to call you. A text would have to do for now.

Peanut, I’m shipping out right now. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say bye. I’ll call you the first chance I get.

Close to 24 hours later, he finally made it to the safe house, but no message was waiting for him. He must have upset you for leaving. It was his fault for bailing whenever he panicked. He sat outside in the chilly night next to Raider and called you. Despite multiple attempts, they all went straight to voicemail. He sighed and the pooch licked his hand as if to soothe his handler.

Call me back, peanut. I miss you.

Another day passed and there was still nothing from you. He checked – the reception was good enough. His calls went to voicemail again.

Still waiting to hear from you. Please reply?

On the third night, still empty-handed, he borrowed Ajax’s phone. When asked what for, he glared at his friend who immediately dropped his teasing smile and averted his gaze. He dialled your number as his heart raced, clutching your handkerchief. He lingered before pressing call, dreading to confirm his suspicion. The call went through although unanswered.

You’d blocked him. It sent a pang to his chest. He understood what it looked like. After giving you the cold shoulder for a week, apologising and spending the most memorable night with you, he was gone again without a word before you even woke.

He realised he was the bad guy here, the fool too fucking stupid for his own good. He saw it now. He was the common denominator of all his failed relationships after all.

He tossed Ajax’s phone back to him, not caring that it landed on his ribs making him wince.

“Why, did you get dumped?”

He had no energy to respond. With a heavy sigh, he buried his face in his pillow. The lump in his throat sat uncomfortably. He wanted to scream, to go home and fix all this with you.

In his rush to leave, it slipped his mind to pack anything apart from your gift which he always kept with his gear on base. It had been months since you’d handed it to him, and despite his better sense of smell, there wasn’t much at all to satisfy the ache, his craving for you. He could only bare a few days without your scent – he knew the buzzing would be back soon and it was going to be torture.

He prayed he could hold on until the end of the mission. He had to, to not lose his shit and land himself in more trouble. Your gift would have to do.

Days later, when evac arrived at the LZ, Keegan was near to tears at the thought of finally finishing the mission, even that he had no idea what kind of mess was waiting for him at home. He was going to make things right, once and for all.

His relief was short-lived. As Raider jumped onto the helo, a bullet made home in the K9.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms

[chuubian]

Kinktober week three:

Guilty Pleasure

Tags Vampire Nikolai x gn reader, age gap, blood, tree sex, no prep, rough sex, no protection, pls try not to fuck strangers in the forest who drink your blood

Summary Ever since you were little, everyone in the village had warned you about what lurked in the woods. You should've listened.

A/N I felt like i should start making them actually Halloween themed, so from now on they'll be a little creepier and about supernatural things hehe. Also this was supposed to come out yesterday but its a little longer so it came out late sorry !!

An abyss of mystery had you completely surrounded. The small, glowing lantern in your hand was the only thing illuminating the way. This was so stupid. How could you possibly have thought this was a good idea? For years, the elders in your village warned you. It has been ingrained in your head that the woods are the one place that needs to be avoided. At all costs. When your cat had run into the trees you didn't even think twice- following behind it frantically. Unfortunately, she had a good sense of direction and you didn't. Knowing her, she was probably back home already, complaining loudly to be let in.

Hours have passed by and you still haven't found the exit. The dense greenery surrounding you started blending together after a while, making every landmark that might help you escape imperceptible and utterly useless. Now, the sun had completely hidden away. Although you had thought to bring your lantern- thank god- the shadows swallowed up the last remaining fragments of illumination shining from your lamp. It's like the forest knew that there was a small bit of warmth and light left inside, and it was trying to put it out as soon as possible.

Of course, at this perfect moment, your stomach started growling- twisting painfully and nagging at you- begging for food. If the wolves didn't know you were here before, they certainly did now- courtesy of your noisy digestive system. Seriously? It just had to happen now of all times? Now more than ever, you're determined to find your way out. Squinting, you try to see what's up ahead but the only thing your eyes can discern is the silhouette of a few trees right in front of you. Everything else is lost to the abyss encircling you. After nearly slamming your face into the rough bark of a few trees, you try to use your other hand to feel the air in front of you. Now, instead of hitting the tree face first, you'll be able to feel your way around it. It doesn't work. It's only taking you deeper into the dense jungle.

Not even the moon aids in your journey- cloaking herself under the veil of obscurity. Is it even worth it to try and get back right now? A few hours of hunger won't kill you, maybe it'd be best to rest for now and try again when the morning arrives. Sleeping on the floor isn't an option, what if an animal comes by and tries to eat you? So with great effort, you manage to climb a relatively small tree nearby. Your white nightshirt had gotten caught in a few branches and ripped near the bottom hem. Why did you think this was a good idea again? Especially in pajamas. Sitting on a wide branch, you contemplate what you'll do next. Maybe you could sleep- though that could be dangerous. 

As you set the lantern down next to you, the candle trapped inside starts flickering vigorously. Oh no. Had you let it burn for too long? It had not failed you this entire time, why did it have to be now? You just put a new candlestick inside the lamp, it's not even halfway burnt and there's no wind. How?? Desperately, you put your arms around the lantern- protecting it from whatever breeze may be trying to put it out. After a few more minutes of you huddling around the fire, it goes out completely. Leaving you alone in the cold night.

Adjusting your eyesight to the darkness proves to be harder than you thought. You can't even see your own hand in front of you.

A gentle current of wind brushes over your skin. Shivering, you put your hands on the still-warm glass covering the candle. Was it always this cold? You hadn't noticed it before, but maybe with the light out, you were forced to feel the true environment around you. The heat radiating off your dim lamp was comforting, soothing your forlorn soul. Leaves rustle and owls coo softly around you. Goosebumps rise all over your arms and legs. The heat warming your fingers, was struggling to thaw the rest of your body- leaving your feet frigid and tingling.

This was so stupid. Thinking that you could possibly survive in the woods was terribly naive. Now, you can't even sit in peace. There's an awful sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your hairs stand on end, pricking you painfully. Sweat forms a thin layer, coating the surface of your skin underneath. Anxiously, your eyes dart around. It's difficult to see when your eyes haven't adjusted to the blackness.

A small giggle cuts through the tense stillness. What was that?? Your muscles seize up, letting go of the lantern and sitting up straight. In your haste, the lamp is pushed off the edge of the branch- falling down to the ground below and shattering into a million pieces.

“Fuck.”

This is just your luck. Not only were you stuck here, now you have no light or warmth, and there's some freak roaming around who probably heard the glass smashing. Your throat tightens, nails digging into the rough bark- you had to hide. There was no other choice. With no chance of escape, what else could you do? At least it sounded far away. It should take a few minutes before they get here, if they even want to. When you try to get down from the branch you are on, a large hand settles over your shoulder.

“Got you!”

Your arm and neck are overcome by an intense pressure, the hand curls, digging its sharp nails into your flesh. A snake feels like it's wrapped itself around your throat- constricting any sound or air that may escape your lungs. Moving your body is a fruitless endeavor. As soon as you try to get out, the grip tightens, stopping any action in its tracks.

“Uh-uh, I didn't say you could move.”

Cold calloused fingers thread themselves through your hair, tugging your head back. How did he even get here so fast? especially without you hearing. Could it be the monster your village had warned you about? As sharp fangs brushed over your exposed throat, your heartbeat speeds up. Oh no. It is him for sure. Your worst fears are realized- the vampire.

If only you had listened. Your cat probably would have been fine by herself anyways. Why did it have to be you? Did god hate you that much? Honestly, you thought the legend about Nikolai Gogol was an urban myth. You had never seen him yourself, and sometimes you would stay near the edge of the forest but nothing would happen. You should've known. Those disappearances were not a coincidence.

You don't get the chance to protest before serrated teeth sink into the soft flesh on your neck. Pain blooms all throughout your larynx, down to the tips of your fingers- painting your skin flowering reds and purples. Nikolai’s tongue laps up the sweet droplets that seep out of your twin wounds. Like it was a five star meal.

His cold solid chest presses against your back, arms caging you in. Your mouth dries, like it's filled with cotton. You blink rapidly, trying to rid your eyes of the tears that started to build up. He- no- It only found it more amusing. Chuckling, it unlatched itself from your neck, leaving behind a wet spot on your neck of saliva and blood. It was sure to stain.

“You're crying? I didn't think you'd be so weak.”

“Go to hell.”

Twisting over to face him, you plant your trembling hands on his torso. When did you become so shaky? Your muscles feel so weak and heavy… how? Ignoring the instability, you shove as hard as you can, but he doesn't budge. Your eyes- now starting to adjust to the low light- can make out his wide grin and glowing iris. He doesn't see you as a threat in the slightest. Without hesitation, he smacks you down against the branch. Like you were nothing more than an annoying bug. Your head bangs against the bark painfully, bouncing up slightly from the sheer force it went down with. A searing ache washes over the back of your head, extending out to the tips of your fingers. Forming proper thoughts is a struggle. Fear paralyzes you, rendering any plan your muddled brain could come up with pointless. Pulling firmly on your hair, he exposes your throat to him again. Your scalp burns but you can't find it in you to move.

“You tasted good before.. I think I need a little more.”

Nikolai's freezing lips make contact with the side of your neck, right by your jugular. A shiver runs down your spine, blood running cold. This is how you die. Would your friends miss you? What would have happened if you stayed home? Your belly would have been full with a nice, hearty, warm stew and you would have already been in bed, resting peacefully. God would not have forsaken you like this. Would not have left you to this monster- this devil. He was an abomination. Your throat spasms under the strain of his needle-like fangs piercing the surface of your skin. But for some reason, this time, it doesn't hurt. A sense of satisfaction sweeps across your body.

Embarrassingly, a small whiney squeal escapes your throat. You can feel his lips stretching wider- enjoying your dilemma. You shouldn't like this. It's wrong. He's a curse, a mistake. A monster who was abandoned by its own god. But the sparks of pleasure dancing down your spine makes it hard to resent him.

“You like this don't you?”

He detaches himself from your throat, slurping up the small drops that dribble out like he was starving. Up until now, you hadn't realized how lightheaded you felt. He definitely drank far too much. Heat flashes over you, your heart never felt so confused. On one hand, you could die at the hands of this man. He's already far too eager to drain you completely. But on the other hand, you couldn't escape anyways and it felt so… good.

Nikolai giggles, running his cold hand down your sternum. His thigh slots itself between your legs, pushing them apart. In this position, you can see his features much easier. He has a weird black and white costume on and a card eyepatch. The scar over his blue eyes is oddly attractive. Unconsciously, your fingers come up to graze over it. The skin is raised and smoother than the rest of his face. A soft shininess is evident on the reddened blemish.

“How did you get that?”

Maybe it was rude to ask, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“A tiny little fight, only a few hundred years ago.”

He says it so comfortably, like it's not absolutely insane.

“… Hundreds..?”

Eye widening, his lips purse into a little ‘o’.

“Oh no, I let it slip!”

The white haired man seems genuinely surprised at this point, almost disappointed in himself. His eyebrows furrowed together- hands pulling at his own hair. After slapping his own forehead a few times, he sits up straight. All distress is washed off his face, replaced with a wicked grin.

“Of course it's hundreds.. Do you humans not go to school? Do you even know what a vampire is? its vampire, vaam-piieee-eeerr.”

Okay that's just insulting. Your face heats up in embarrassment as you nudge his shoulder lightly.

“But you know… I guess that means you think I look young. I guess my 20 step skincare routine came in handy hehehe?”

Nikolai gets up closer, showing you his skin, dragging your fingers over his cheek.

“See? Feel.”

Soft skin makes contact with the tips of your fingers. He's ancient. Your mind drifts back to all those horrible legends. The rumors of him cutting his victims open cruelly, draining them completely, and bathing in their blood. You're not gonna let him think that acting in such a ruthless manner was working for him.

“You could use more moisturizer.”

He laughs sarcastically, face twisting like he's bitten into a lemon. A narrowed eye pierces into your soul. The air around you grows thicker, and it felt like something was pressing down into your chest.

“Ha ha. You shouldn't talk to me that way you know. I'm capable of horrors you couldn't even imagine. So behave. It's for your own good.”

Patting your cheek condescendingly, his lips spread into an ominous smirk. Your hands clench nervously- knuckles brushing against the rough bark underneath you. Was he going to kill you?

“Hehehe! Did I scare you??”

He bursts into boisterous chortles. Leaning in until his nose touches yours, he stares eerily- hot breath fans over your face, sending shivers down your spine.

“You're not funny…”

Grumbling, you turn away, looking at the bushel of branches and leaves beside you and all around. Frigid fingers dig into your cheek sadistically, making you look back at the vampire hovering over you.

“Look at me.”

His leering gaze travels up and down your body, taking in the ripped pajamas and exposed skin. It leaves you feeling dirty. Carefully, he lets go of your cheeks. his big hands go down to rest beside your head- holding his weight up as his body settles itself between your legs.

“… You're kind of pretty for a human.”

Pointed nails catch on your nightshirt- snagging the fabric on his way down your sides. A trail of fire rushes his touch. Your breathing picks up, from this place on your back, you can see the way his pupil dilates, how he keeps licking his lips. Like he wants to devour you whole. Electricity surges between you when he makes eye contact. His fangs are still out, hanging over his bottom lip- a small part of you wishes he would sink his fangs in your neck and drink more.

For a moment, you forget where you are. Time trickles by slowly, weighing down all your movements with its dense pressure. Your heart pounds in your chest, pumping the blood through your veins so vigorously your limbs are wobbling. His eye darts down to your lips before glancing back up again- you don't even notice when he leans closer. 

A muscular arm slides around your waist, pulling your body against his big one. Nikolai does not wait any longer before slanting forward and pressing his lips against yours. His tongue is hot against yours, nibbling on your bottom lip lightly- he deepens the kiss when you gasp, teeth clashing against yours. Your hands travel up his suit, clutching onto the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. As the flavor of iron fills your mouth, he lets out a deep groan- pressing his hips against yours.

“Fuck.. I can't hold back any more.”

The white haired man only pulls away for a few seconds before diving right back in. But this time he doesn't go in for a kiss, instead nosing at your windpipe, longing to bury his canines in your flesh. A small whine threatens to escape- your head tilts bare your throat for him. Impatiently, your hands lurch forward, trying to hold him still. You can't let yourself enjoy it. It would ruin you.

“Ah-ah. I didn't say you could touch.”

Nikolai seizes your wrists in his hold, pinning them down against the rough branch under you. They were sure to have colorful bruises and gashes painted across your skin tomorrow. His voice is cold, freezing you in your place. Fierce warmth fills you up. Squirming uncomfortably, you find it hard to breathe. It's hot. Too hot. The nightshirt is suffocating your skin, making you feel itchy. Your body is begging you to rip the stupid fabric off- to obtain at least some level of relief.

“Y-you're too slow.”

His hands are frigid. You can recognize them working on pulling you free of your pajamas, soothing your boiling form beneath him. Your body jerks, frantically helping him. When he finally manages to wretch it off you, he tosses it away, watching as it descends down, fluttering in the gentle wind. Your brain is clouded in pleasure, torso arching into his touch as he presses searing kisses down your sternum. He leaves small nips here and there- enjoying the way your body shivers, the way blood rushes to the surface and stains your skin pretty colors.

“H-hurry I need-”

His nails bite into your sides. He tsks, scolding you.

“Shut up. I know what you need.”

Something in your head buzzes- keening as Nikolai drags his canines over your nipple, refusing to commit, refusing to finally bite. He's being so mean. You squirm, pushing up into him, desperate for more. Icy fingers smooth over your exposed lower tummy, forcing your back against the tree holding you up.

“Poor thing..”

An explosion of electricity tumbles over you when he pierces your nipple with his pointy fangs. You choke on your own breath, staggering as a pitchy wail streams out of your lungs. His tongue eagerly sucks and licks at the little nub. It feels like your nerves are on fire, raw and severed. Dark red stains the corners of his mouth, lips shiny and slick with spit.

A series of kisses are left down your torso. Saliva and blood mark the spots Nikolai embraced. Like a proof of ownership. Claiming you as his. His teeth tug at the edge of your underwear, pulling them off you slowly, hands pushing your legs apart and slipping between them. The air nips at your skin, forming goosebumps up your exposed frame. A violent shudder wracks your body, pelvis twitching down to roll against his.

“Fuck this, i cant wait any more.”

Ridding himself of his pants, he drags his pointy nails up your thigh relentlessly. They’re like knives, cutting you open and watching the sweet liquid rush out. It drips slowly, fighting against gravity pulling it down. Pushing your thigh up against your chest, Nikolai spits into his hand, and wraps his slick fingers around himself. The blood drizzles down onto your chest, leaving small red beads of fluid on your torso.

The blunt head of his cock bumps against your entrance, slowly nudging itself inside. It burns- stretching you open, forcing your body to adjust to him. You moan weakly, hands finding purchase in the muscles on his back. Your veins pulse with want- need. A distressed sob traps itself in your chest, your body spasms in an attempt to keep down the embarrassing sound.

“Nghh.. N-Nikolai…”

Your tongue feels too big in your mouth, stiff and struggling to form the proper shape necessary for speech. Nikolai coos softly, angling his hips until the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot. A low mewl bubbles in your throat.

“Shhh… I know I know.”

You're so full, he's hot and throbbing inside of you, pushing in until his pelvis is pressed against your ass. Tears form in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision of the man above you. As his lips draw back and slam back in, your back is dragged against the rough surface of the tree under you. You cry out weakly, sweat beading down your forehead. His hips roll into you deliciously- punching the air out of your lungs, lighting your veins on fire.

Brain clouded with lust, your arms shakily wrap around his shoulders. He leans down, tongue lapping at the little drops of blood that had gotten on your chest, moaning softly.

“So good.. You taste so good.”

The head of his cock crashes against your sweet spot, scattering violent jolts of static through your body, fogging your thoughts. The brutal pace makes his pelvis strike against the flesh of your ass. Carving out a space for himself inside you.

Your body is overloaded by sensation, body sticky and blistering. The heat sinks from the surface of your skin to your core, pooling and forming a boiling hot spring- threatening to burst out like a geyser. Your ears are numbed. Your legs are trembling, muscles struggling to hold themselves together. Nikolai can feel you clenching around him, sucking him in hungrily, like you'd die if he left your clutches. He groans, nuzzling at the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“I just- hah- want to drain you.”

His needle-like canines scratch over your neck. Hips slam against you brutally, driving his cock into your sensitive spot. Your mind is blissfully empty, focusing only on the pleasure he brings you, submissively baring your throat for him. Unintelligible babbles burst out of your lungs.

“P-please… mmmnng..”

Nikolai’s sharp fangs bury themselves in the junction of your shoulder and neck. White hot pleasure flows through your veins, stealing the breath from your lungs, bursting the knot that was forming in the bottom of your stomach. Waves of satisfaction roll over your body, quenching the burning heat that had engulfed your body for so long. He growls lowly, releasing hot spurts into you. Your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs, struggling to hold onto your lucidity. Red liquid drips down your neck as drool pools in the corners of your mouth.

It sounds like white noise is playing inside your eardrums as time moves in slow motion. One second you're staring up at the man above you blankly, and the next you're fully clothed again in a luxurious bed. Where was this? You couldn't even move to look around- your body was so weak and sore from the night before that sitting up was a significant struggle. Your eyes flutter closed, body turning to bury itself further into the soft sheets. The bruises and scratches littering your figure left a painful reminder of what had taken place. Of him. As your body starts to relax and fall into a restful slumber, your brain barely manages to make out the sound of a mischievous giggle from outside the room.

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch 2024

Week 1

Alt Prompt: “It’s not what you think”

A/N: This is a snip it of a later chapter in my fic that is currently in the works. I purposely jumped forward in time to write this and will come back to it later when I get to that part of the story. I thought it fit kinda nicely although the actual prompt doesn't fit until near the end of this segment. Still I hope you enjoy it

Tags: Slight Angst, Truama

Tech was sitting on the edge of a cliff over looking the bustling village of Pabu below, the night sky a deep radiant blue as the full moon shone its light down onto the people below. It was so bright you may have mistaken it for daytime. The light from the houses set a contrasting orange glow from the bright white light from the moon brought a homely feeling to the environment around him. He was so used to the sterile walls of Kamino and the stark, blank, white lighting the filled the building. It was tranquil and not like the empty barracks or the still empty calm from roaming the halls in the dead of night. No this was a calm that was full of life. Full of sweet calm and air fresher than any he had ever breathed before. This felt like living. Not like surviving and fighting for life day in and day out. This was truly living, reveling in the moments as they came and being able to fully enjoy what was right in front of him. He was a solider, had been all his life. Face paced, desperate, determined, with one goal in mind. Serve and Protect. But now he could question his existence, enjoy it without anything being constantly expected of him. Tech was free at last.

At least he was mostly free, there was one sad reminder of these years past that he could never let go of. Because now they were a part of him. After his rescue from Tantis Tech’s new augmentations had been badly damaged, and he had damaged them even more during his period of rehabilitation. They needed to be maintained and fixed long ago but he had not had the heart to tell his family of what had happened to him, how badly he had been injured after his fall on Eriadu, and how Hemlock had “helped” him. He didn’t want to worry his brothers, it was a burden for him to carry not them. So what was the point in worrying them? What’s done is done and he cant changed it, even if he wanted to.

Right now he was just trying to rewire the servers. Once he had been fully conditioned he remembered how Hemlock had rewired his new armour to allow him to use the full range of functions his augmentations had. He was currently focused on his right leg, his pants pulled all the way up to his thigh his leg entirely exposed so he could see everything. He wished he was in a more sanitary environment than the earth he was sitting on but he didn’t have a space in their shared home where he wouldn’t be disturbed.

He unlatched the main compartment of his legs wiring and began refitting anything that had been damaged and altering the flow of electricity so that his leg would work at a higher capacity. He then moved onto his knee joint, he loosened the bolt a little big. He struggled to move his knee sometimes and figured that the joints had wounds the suspension up to tight and wasn’t giving him full range of movement.

Briefly he wonders if that was intentional.

A fun thought crossed his mind, if he could get Rex to get him the right parts he could install propulsion jets into the soles of his robotic feet that would allow him to hover and fly around Pabu. Although that would defeat the entire point of keeping his new body a secret.

He continued to work down his leg until the whole thing had been carefully checked, modified and replaced. Maybe next time he would bring a few more spare parts to properly make the adjustments he wanted.

He rolled down his right pant leg, folding the cuff, once, then twice and replacing his book over the top. He then moved to his left leg, only needing to slide his pant leg up a little ways, to his shin and remove his boot. He looked at the titanium of his foot.

He considered it a moment, the way he had when he first saw it. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It worked just the same as the rest of his body. He had to hand it to the droids they had done well. And now he didn’t have to worry about standing on things he couldn’t stand the feeling off or bumping them with his foot, that issue was one he was thankful to live without. But the cost, the cost of his humanity, the cost of his autonomy, the cost of his freedom…was it worth it.

He knew the answer should be simple. That the answer should be “of course not, it was because of Hemlock that he fell from the rail car and had been turned into a machine, that was never worth it” But…part of Tech felt better, better than he ever had. The parts of him that were machine worked so smoothly and he never had to worry about his body failing him in ways he that he couldn’t fix. If anything did ever fail him he could simply replace the part or rewire the mechanics and he would be good as new again.

He knew that wasn’t the right way to think about his situation but he couldn’t help it. That was simply how he felt.

After he had cleared away some dirt from the joints in his foot and made sure that it was working he rolled down his pant leg folding the cuff two times like he had with his right one and replaced his boot. It was still strange to him, knowing what the sensation of putting on a boot or having material slide over your skin felt like but being unable to feel it. He didn’t know if he liked that or not just yet.

Now it was time for the difficult part. He didn’t exactly know how he was supposed to examine his own spine but if he could open and close the servos without any additional pain then he would have to assume that everything was fine. He was also unable to check the state of his wounds and their progress. He would merely have to hope that his body was doing its job as designed by the Kaminoans. He knew that his time in the Bacta tank, as much as he detested the feeling and the memory, would have helped his body immensely. He hoped that there were no infections or still opened wounds, but he assumes he would have noticed by now if that were the case.

Gently so that the fabric would not catch on the exposed notches, Tech begins to pull his shirt over his head. He had managed to find where Hunter had confiscated his CX armour and stolen the remote access panel.

He picked up the access panel and stared at it. It was a different design to the one Hemlock and Emerie had shared. It was wider, and the base was grey. There was a red and blue button accompanying the black ones. Part of him desperately wanted to throw the remote into the sea below and watch it plunge to a watery grave but he knew that would not be a good idea.

He told himself that he should be used to the pain by now, those months of rotaions under Hemlocks “care” should have him build up some sort of resistance to the pain and fear.

But it hadn’t, he could feel his heart racing and his breathing become rugged and quick. His flesh hand shook slightly as he continued to stare at the remote, his fingers clutched the metal as he shook, he could feel that hollow feeling build in his chest as his stomach filled with liquid dread. Like black ink pooling inside of him.

He clicked the button.

33 clicks sounded as the notches popped up from his back, releasing the mechanism that held his spine together. Tech cried out and clenched his eyes shut. He felt a stinging fill the inside of his eyelids as he held them shut. Once the final click had sounded he hunched over, unwillingly.

The fear clouded in his mind and he was swallowed by the memory of his first encounter with Hemlock, how badly in pain he had been in those first few days, how fear was the only thing he could remember. He knew at first he had been defiant but he was afraid. So all consumingly afraid that he would never escape, that he would be forever stuck by Hemlocks side. The image of Hemlock’s gloved hands floated in front of his face and he wanted to bat them away.

He had to remind himself there was nothing there. He needed to get this over quickly, he took a deep breathed and tried his best to centre himself/

He took a moment to feel his back trying to get a sense of the sensations he could still register in his skin. After he was sure nothing was wrong, he braced himself again and pressed the button once again.

He hissed at the pain and sat upright, almost as if he had been pulled by someone else.

Except that it wasn’t “like he had been pulled” he had been pulled. In the moment.

“Tech?! What the hell?!” He felt a strong hand clasped around his shoulder and he was being pulled to the side. His head snapped up, his eyes opened underneath his goggles and he could feel the sting in his eyes more clearly now, they were tears and as soon as he had opened his eyes they had spilled into his goggle. After looking up he was face to face with Hunter. Omega standing just over his shoulder.

Hunter was crouched down in front of him at lines of worry in his face deeper than usual and his brow furrowed so far Tech was surprised he could still see Hunter’s eyes. He could feel Hunters hand gripping his shoulder, he wanted to shake it off but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, staring into Hunters face. His hand was still clenching the remote and his entire body was now shaking.

His vision begun to swim as Hunter’s face morphed into Hemlock’s and then Emerie’s. Tech gasped and tried to push them away but the attempt was feeble. Whoever was in front of him wouldn’t move. Faintly he could hear someone calling his name, but they sounded so far away, he couldn’t tell who it was.

“Tech?! Tech!” Suddenly Omega’s face had taken up his field of view and the hand on his shoulder was gone. “Tech listen to me ok. You aren’t on Tantis anymore. See it’s me and Hunter”

He felt himself sway and then he was forcefully yanked back to reality. He was sitting on the cliffside over looking Pabu, and Omega and Hunter were standing there with him.

Defensively he brough his hands up to cover his exposed chest. “It’s not what you think” he said staring up at Hunter.

Omega reached over and retrieved Tech’s shirt handing it to him and he slid it over his torso.

“Tech, what happened?” Omega asked him tentatively but he couldn’t answer, not yet.

He took several minutes to sit as still as he could and breath, taking in oxygen and expelling that dread and fear. Omega was right, he was safe, he wasn’t on Tantis and he was with his family. He could see Omega she was right there. They had saved him. He knew that.

Once he was ready to speak again he gave Omega a small nod and looked over a Hunter. A mix of worry and anger was twisted onto his brow.

Hunter spoke first “Tech what the hell? What were you doing?”

All Tech would respond with was a “It’s not what you think"

Somehow Hunters brows furrowed ever more and he folded his arms in anger “What should I think then Tech? Because it seems pretty black and white to me? You are covered in machinery that we had no idea about? You kept this from us?! Why!?”

Hunters voice had gradually raised as he had spoken and each time Tech flinched.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, just don’t hurt anyone”

An eerie silence fell between the three of them. The words had fallen out of Tech’s mouth before he could think about what he was saying.

The anger faded from Hunter’s face immediately and a lump formed in his throat. Dread filled his own stomach now and horror clouded his mind.

“Tech…no ones going to hurt anyone. We are worried for you is all” Omega says softly

Tech closes his eyes again, why did this have to happen, he had everything under control without them interfering. Deep down he was irritated that they had come looking for him. If they had only waited a few more minutes he would have been done and this would have never had happened.

“I didn’t tell you because it is not your issue to worry about Omega” he says it quite coldly but neither of them back off.

“Tech we are family, we’ve been doing everything we can to help you since Tantis. You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I know that and I am grateful but this was one thing that I did not want to burden you with. There is nothing you could have done anyway” What else was he supposed to say? What did they expect him to say?

Hunter turned away and ran a hand over his face. He was in a state of distress one he had never even been in on the battlefield. His brother, had been his usual self and kept a serious issue to himself, he had allowed himself to, once again, carry a burden that he knew he would never have had to carry alone.

All his creation he had done everything he could to protect his family, and now he had realised how badly he had failed. Not just when he had failed to convince Crosshair to stay with them, or when he lost Omega. He had failed to save Tech and he had left him to a fate worse than anything he had imagined. And now after all of that, even after Hunter had done his best to right those wrongs he had discovered another thing he had failed to do for his brother.

Tech never told anyone about anything that was bothering him until it was so bad it was obvious to everyone around him. But something a sever as this? How had he kept this hidden all this time. And why had Hunter never figured it out. That was his job!

He had failed his family…again

Breaking out of his caging thoughts he listened as Omega talked to Tech

“Omega, it is not what it looks like. I was not intentionally causing myself harm; I need to make sure that everything was functioning to its fullest capabilities so I would not get hurt in the future”

Omega frowned but nodded at Tech. “Are you going to tell the others?”

Hunter cuts over her with another questions “Were you ever planning to tell us?”

Tech looked down at his hands, guilt filling his throat “I do not know, but most likely not”

Hunter sighed and walked over to crouch beside Omega. “Tech I know we don’t know what you went through on Tantis…but we don’t want you to feel like a burden. Because you aren’t. We would never hold it against you for being different or whatever you believed our reactions to be.”

Hunter sighed not knowing how to convince Tech. Tech would rival Crosshair in stubbornness at times and it wore him down, especially in instances like this.

But Tech was his brother, his family. He couldn’t just let this go.

“Tech? Can I give you a hug?” He heard Omega whisper

Tech nodded and carefully wrapped her arms around Tech and collapsed into his legs. He put his arms around her and for a while they just sat there, Hunter sitting beside them both his hand on Omega’s back

(obviously not a full chapter but enough for the prompt. You'll see the rest of it in chapters to come)

(If you would like to see the other work I have done for Summer of Bad Batch then you can follow this link)

[sebastianstansqueen]

Lost in The Shadows Sixteen

A/N: Hey I'm back, this is a little bitter sweet I will post the final part of this series soon, but that maybe my last post depending on later feelings, I'll always keep this account up however just very little interaction, Tumbler hasn't been what it was when I started using it like 4-5 years ago, when I was a freshmen in High School, it was a lot more fun and had a lot more interesting stories being posted at that time, I haven't found myself coming on here intentionally more out of boredom, and even then I don't see anything I'm interested in anymore. But this also could be a hiatus that last a few months to a year I don't know, my app will still be on my phone so don't be afraid to interact or ask me things, I still have another project I was working on and then stopped, I've also been so busy with my Job, that I just haven't had the energy to Wright like I used to be able to.

Wordcount: 1,404

Warnings:  Angst, Guns, then obviously Brock, kid’s, possible torturer, , If forgot anything let me know please!

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 

Tags:@cherryblossomsky- @babylooneytoonz- @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex- @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff- @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1- @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love -@stoneyggirl2 - @ordelixx - @arunabrak - @cjand10

Four Years Ago

After coming back from being gone for months verging a year, Steve seemed to show up out of nowhere looking for Bucky. When Y/n answered and saw the policeman, her already pissed demeanor seemed to intensify, as her eyes shot looking at him that he knew he should already be ten feet into the earth with, he. “What do you want, Rogers?” She hissed. “You couldn’t give a mourning widow and Pregnant woman her space?” 

“Mourning Widow?” He asked, making her eyes widen with realization. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, you didn’t know, Bucky and I were attacked in Romania, where he was shot… twice.” Her fingers knocked themselves around each other. At this moment, Steve was seeing the woman, and not the crime syndicate boss. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He said softly, not really knowing what else to say, he left to process what he’d been told.

A week later he came back. “I want all the information on Brock, Y/n, I want to help you finish this.”

_______

Y/n learned as much as she could about this new chest piece Brock had added to the puzzle, he had insane abilities that matched nothing anyone she had, Y/n wasn’t ever going to send her men, nor Natasha into an unfair fight. So she  decided that tonight, she would end this war that had taken her babies father away, and a good portion of her time away from them as well. They were young, so Y/n knew if she died now, when they were older hopefully they’d forget. As she busted her way through the doors of the warehouse, allowing only the moon’s light into the dark building she could barely see anything. She had her gun ready to go off as soon as she saw anyone. “You came alone.” Brock's voice echoed. 

“I’ve seen what your guy can do. I wasn't going to risk any of my men.” Her voice was cold looking for where the man could be.

Brock’s laugh echoed through the building. “I’m the one who sent Romanoff the tip, I let him be seen by her, Y/n, I’m the one who gave you those videos. I wanted you here.” Brock’s voice turned dark. “I wanted you to see him, come out.” The tall brooding man stepped out of a shadowed corner, moving forward in the darkness, Y/n was only able to see the outline of his foreboding frame, when her arm came into contact with cool metal, the shiver it sent down her spine was one of memories, of being on the sandy beach of the Island in Romania and Bucky’s prosthetic running down her bikini clad back, or when it was nice and cozy that one whiter night and Bucky’s hand reached to pull her impossibly closer. 

By the time her brain caught up with her body she was thrown on the dirt looking up into a cold blue eye that held the moon's rays in them. “Bu-Bucky.” It came out in almost a sob of fear, relief, and sadness. In his eyes however all they held was nothing, maybe confusion, but mostly nothing. “This isn’t you.” 

Four Years Ago

It happened so fast Bucky hadn’t been thinking, as Brock lifted his gun at Y/n, Bucky swiftly moved so that she wouldn’t have gotten hit, as the gun went off once then twice, and the brutalizing pain that went through Bucky’s stomach and chest was worse than when getting his arm amputated, then again that had been done when he was partially in a coma and by professionals, but as he saw Y/n’s wide eyes he realized that for her and for his unborn baby he’d do it again for either one. “Get out! Leave Y/n!” She began running on instinct. 

“Grab him!” Brock’s voice of frustration was the last thing he heard.  Before waking up to himself being operated on by Brock's guys getting the bullets out, he tried to fight them off but quickly found his arm was strapped down and his prosthetic missing. 

“Don’t worry Barnes, you’re gonna be very useful in the downfall of your wife.” Brock Spoke from somewhere out of Bucky’s view. “Give it to him.” 

A blue liquid began to be put through two IV’s and Bucky felt everything in him burn.

_______

“That isn’t going to work Carter, he doesn't know you anymore, we put his mind into a blender.” Brock spoke passively, fueling Y/n’s anger. She only needed to get him, she didn’t want to hurt Bucky, if it wasn’t necessary.

She looked around for an out, so instead She let a low pitched whistle through her lips, making Brock arch a brow, The door’s she had just burst through, came in Steve and a squad of feds. “So you work with cops now?” He recoils into the shadows for his escape. “Ascetic, atack.” And as if a wire was plugged into a TV Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken, as he began to stock towards Y/n.

Steve ran to follow Brock, before he could witness what was about to happen, and all of the feds followed him choosing this time to rade the building, all while she was there facing him alone, he quickly got a hold of her forcing her to the ground, she swiftly jabbed his side. “Bucky, stop this, you need to come home, we have two beautiful babies waiting for us at home, Autumn and Aiden, and they would love to meet you.” She spoke softly, leading him outside as she moved backwards towards the doors. 

“Stop acting like you know me.” His voice held virtually nothing in it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” She shook her head. “So you can kill me now, and leave Our kids orphans, or you can return with me.” He faltered taking a step back when Y/n offered to immediately be killed, it was shocking, but he felt a twinge of something when she mentioned the kid’s being orphans, why did he care? He thought.  She could see it in his eyes. “Death and I have shaken hands a few times, I’m not scared, and I’ve made my peace, so if you're going to kill me get it over with.” 

He knew he couldn’t he knew what this would result in when he’d go back, they’d beat him for not completing this, this is what he was made for this is what they told him that he would have to do no matter what, and sure he could and had killed people before but this was different. “You don’t have to go back with him either, you can come with me.” She spoke softly, as the moon shone down on them and made her eyes sparkle, he just shook his head before bolting away into the night. Y/n on fast feet, chased him, she wasn’t about to let him go again, but she only got so far until she felt as if her lungs were going to give up and her legs felt as if any more movement would cause her to collapse, the red, blue, and white, of a cop car was flashing nearby, she fell to her knees, as Steve came and found her his hand went to her shoulder. “We’ve got Brock.” He spoke looking for any sign of Bucky in the shadows, but there would be none, he was so fast he had to be at least a mile away by now. 

She nodded, getting up and composing herself, before getting into Steve's car. He turned to her with a look of concern as he drove. “What is it Steve?” She huffed.

“Are you alright, when you chased Bucky, Y/n you both ran ten miles in thirty minutes.” Steve told her, making her brows furrow, it hadn't felt that far or short for the distance, but her vision had gone into tunnel as she followed Bucky back there. 

She just brushed it off, shrugging, but her thoughts began to stir thinking of Bucky’s strength at the where house, when he tried to force her to the ground there was no possible way to fight back, and his speed he was a decent amount a head of her though still in view, she had no clue what Brock had done to him and she didn’t know if she wanted to. 

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

The Secret Princess

AN: Hello my loves. Once again this is just a palate cleanser while I work on BTB3, Completely unrelated, y’all liked A Betting Woman A LOT more than I thought yall would fr thank you. I look at the reblogs and giggle at all the funny shit y’all comment so thank you for making me smile. University is about to revamp for me in the next two weeks so if I go ghost I DEEPLY apologize in advance. Also this is my last fic without a taglist, go check out my last post to join it! This fic is my first semi-supernatural reader, I wouldn’t really say she’s supernatural tho, more spiritually inclined. Just wanted to put that in their idk.  Hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: The wind always did seem to have a way of bringing certain things back to your doorstep. 

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of spirits kinda, idk spiritual stuff about people visiting you in non physical ways after they’ve passed. 

Word count: 3.447

Suggested listening: Moonlight - Chris Bloom

“Your company is my cup of tea This light in between us is dim just like The moonlight Shit got me feeling nice When you hit me up I feel a drop in my tum like Damn, am I in love? I might be if she comes to spend the night That could be nice”

You plopped yourself into your hammock chair and let out a hearty sigh. Finally a moment of calm after a long day, you gazed out into the French Quarter and people watched for a moment. Although you had only been in the space a year you loved how it allowed you to just observe people going about their daily lives. 

You reached for the blunt you had rolled the night before and brought it to your mouth. Taking one final look out into the Quarter you brought the lighter to the tip of the blunt and held it there just long enough for the paper to catch fire. You removed the lighter once you were satisfied and took your first pull of the blunt, savoring the aroma benefits that the rose and lavender had.

A light gust of wind swept past you and when you looked down at your blunt it had gone out. You shrugged your shoulders and relit the blunt, happy that it sparked again without canoeing. You turned your head to place the lighter down on the stand next to you and the same gust of wind swept past you, extinguishing your blunt once again. This time you were smart enough to notice the slight smell of sandalwood and ginger in the air when the wind passed you, both scents unusual for the New Orleans air to have. You were a clever woman and knew that once was an accident, twice was a coincidence but three times, three times was a sign. Deep down you had a feeling that you knew what, rather who the wind was trying to speak for but you needed one more attempt to know for sure. 

You picked the lighter back up again and lit the blunt for the final time. A second passed and the gust of sandalwood and ginger air was back again put out your blunt. You took the hint and put down the blunt and lighter, clearly, he wanted your full attention right now. 

“No sir, I don’t know what it is you want but I can’t today.” You spoke out to the wind, hoping he was listening. “It’s a full moon tonight. I’ve got plans.” 

You waited for a response or sign but none came, evidently, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. You dropped your shoulders in defeat, even in death you couldn't say no to T’Challa. 

“She’s here already?” You asked him. His response was to rustle the leaves underneath a light post across from your home. You could easily see the spot from your balcony and you knew when she came she would be able to do the same from her spot.

You leaned back into your hammock chair, satisfied that at least this time he was bringing her to you. 

While you were now in a relaxed state Shuri was in exactly the opposite. After a mission had gone wrong, Nakia, Okoye, and her were left in New Orleans with no way of communicating with Wakanda. She had sustained a decent injury in her abdomen that her kimoyo beads were not fully healing and Okoye had at least dislocated her shoulder.  Thankfully this city was slightly familiar to Shuri having been here once before. Running on pure hope, the young royal had led the group into the French Quarter hoping that by some miracle someone had heard her prayer and helped her once again. 

“Shuri we are LOST,” Okoye stated plainly. “We need to develop a plan on how we are going to get back to Wakanda.” 

“I have a plan,” Shuri said quietly as she continued walking ahead. 

“Walking around the French Quarter aimlessly is not a plan!” Okoye urged through tight lips, not wanting to alarm any of the drunken guests that surrounded them. 

“Nakia, are you concerned?” Shuri asked, turning around to face the two women. 

“Slightly,” Nakia answered truthfully. 

Shuri nodded, appreciating the honesty in her answer. “Okoye, only worry slightly then.” Shuri turned back around and resumed her path forward leaving the other women to follow her. Her fake confidence was slowly starting to leave her and she soon became worried that maybe her hope was a foolish thing to rely on. 

Just as those thoughts started to enter her head Shuri felt something, it made her pause in her tracks stopping just under a streetlight. She was being watched. Her travel companions stopped behind her and looked her up and down confused. 

“What is it?” Okoye questioned, concerned at the royal's sudden change in attitude. 

“I am being watched.” Shuri looked all around the ground level of the quarter trying to find the pair of eyes that alerted her. When she couldn’t find them she moved her eyes up higher scanning the buildings and open terraces until she found you. There you were just as she had hoped to stare down at her in all of your ethereal glory, lit by the early moonlight. 

You two exchanged looks for a minute before you tilted your head to the side inviting Shuri to come to you and make your way inside your apartment. It took you a few seconds to make it down the stairs and by the time you did Shuri and her partners were standing at the doorway. 

The Queen was the first to approach you, walking up to the bottom of the steps she bowed in front of you. 

“Princess,”

You narrowed your eyes at her when she stood up. Deciding to repeat her gesture you bowed to her. 

“My Queen,” 

Nakia and Okoye could both feel the fake formality in the gesture, it seemed more like a dig at each other than a showing off of titles. 

“You knew I was coming?” Shuri questioned. 

“He let me know not too long ago that you were here. Almost made me waste half a lighters fluid trying to get the message to me.” You replied with a shake of your head. Shuri nodded and Nakia glanced at Okoye to see if she had any idea what you two were talking about; she did not.  You looked over the women's state and instantly saw Shuri and Okoye’s injuries. He always seemed to bring her back to you when she needed you the most. 

 “Well c’mon in.” You stepped aside and held open your arms gesturing towards the door. “An Udaku on my doorstep, I should have played the lottery.” 

Shuri mouthed a thank you to you and led the two women up the front porch and through the front door. You followed behind them, “Take them into the back room Shuri, I’ll bring y’all some tea.” 

The three women walked all the way to the back of your house to the screened-in back porch, Shuri gestured for them to sit on the couch and after exchanging a weary look the women obliged. Shuri sat in one of the bean bag chairs and relaxed into it; silently thanking Bast that her prayer had been answered. 

Okoye and Nakia looked around the room, Nakia admired the art that you had displayed and the photos of snowy mountainsides. Okoye on the other hand was identifying points of exit and possible weapons within the room. What? Someone needed to be rational here.  

“You never answered our question Shuri, who’s home is this? Who is she?” Okoye wanted answers and the way Shuri was so willing to let her guard down only left her with more questions. 

Shuri sighed, she knew Okoye’s questions were reasonable but she didn’t want to give a straight answer before you got back. “She is a friend of the Udaku family, someone to who we owe a thank you for saving us tonight.” 

Okoye groaned, “That is not an answer Shuri! We walk around an unfamiliar city and happen upon some “Princess” to take us in for the night? Nakia, do you know who she is?” 

Nakia shook her head no in response, truthfully she was still too fixated on the art you had displayed. Something about a few of the landscapes felt familiar to Nakia but she couldn’t place them.  

“Shuri just answer the-” Okoye’s words were stopped by your sudden presence at the door, she hadn’t even heard you walk up. 

You smiled lightly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, General.” You set the tray of tea down on the coffee table between you all. “Please have a glass, it’s not like home but it’s still strong.” 

Shuri was the only one to grab a cup and pour herself some of the hot tea. Okoye watched on in horror, wondering if this was how Wakanda’s monarch was going to go out. When nothing happened she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, thanking Bast that everything was fine, for now. 

“You didn’t come in here with that technology this time, thank you.” There was something about the way you said technology that caught Nakia’s ear and brought her back to the conversation; once again it felt familiar as if she had heard it said like that before. She studied you as you sat down on a mat on the floor, tucking your legs beneath your long skirt as you sat crisscrossed.

“I am nothing if not respectful of your space.” Shuri took another sip of the tea savoring the strong herbal taste. “Thank you for taking us in tonight, I am not sure what I would have done without you.”  

You smiled at Shuri’s thanks, “That tea should help with the pain some but if you want me to do something about your abdomen,” You turned to face Okoye. “And your arm, I’m gonna need to actually help you.” 

Shuri went to speak, to tell you that you could do whatever you wanted but Okoye’s voice stopped her. “Does no one else see the problem with this?” Okoye turned to Nakia. “We are just supposed to trust some random American whom we know zero information about to ‘help’ us? After everything?” 

You tried to act like Okoye’s questioning of your intentions didn’t hurt but deep down it did. You rose from the mat and grabbed your medical bag, allowing the sound of the wind to ground you. “Shuri, you’ve brought them here. Explain to them who I am.” 

Once again Shuri went to talk but you sitting down next to her and speaking stopped her again. “But, I can tell you by the way she’s holding her stomach that the first stages of infection are starting to set in. So I can sit here and wait for her to tell you who I am and allow it to fester further. Or you can trust her judgment that she brought you here unarmed in the first place and allow me to give her and you the necessary medical aid you need.”

For a moment nothing could be heard in the room but the faint sound of the wind coming in through the window. Nakia broke the silence first, being ever the pacifier in tense situations. 

“Please go ahead.” She nodded towards Shuri, “And you, start speaking.” 

You opened your kit and began creating the mixture of plants you would need to stop Shuri’s infection. Shuri took off her shirt leaving her in just her sports bra and sweatpants. She rubbed her head for a few seconds debating how to phrase her next sentence before just blurting it out. 

“This is Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Jabari Land, and M’baku’s baby sister.” 

It all clicked in Nakia’s head, the sceneries were from Jabari Land, and the way you said technology was identical to the way M’baku did. “I was not aware M’baku had a sister.” She studied your face as you lifted it from your kit, noticing your similar features. 

You chuckled at her words as you began applying the paste lightly to Shuri’s stomach.“Then he’s done well by honoring our parents' wishes.” 

The Queen winced for a second when you applied slight pressure to ensure that the remedy had saturated her wound, upon hearing it you spoke a “Je suis désolé mon chéri.” just loud enough for her to hear and she smiled sweetly down at you. 

“You said she was a friend of the Udaku family, Shuri, who else knew of her?” Okoye looked you up and down trying to decide if she believed you let alone trusted you.

You could feel Shuri tense up underneath you before she spoke softly. “She was a friend of ‘Challa’s.” 

Nakia’s eyes became more focused on you, curious as to how you could have come into contact with her former lover. “You knew T’Challa?” 

You pulled your eyes from Shuri’s wound and over to Nakia. She could see the soft smile on your face. “I had the pleasure of knowing him when he was here with us and I’ve got the pleasure to still know him now.”

You spent the rest of the night explaining how you had met the former king. How after being shunned from your Jabari family for not following tradition and refusing marriage with a man, you ventured off out of Wakanda and into the United States, listening to the ancestors who spoke to you along the way through the wind. Eventually, you settled here in New Orleans and after living here for a year you felt a certain breeze come through, it called you into the city with its alluring nature and led you all the way to a very injured T’Challa. At first, he didn’t trust that you weren’t there to harm him but after you revealed your true identity to him, trust became quick with you two. 

You nursed him back to health and in exchange, he promised that he would never forget you and left you with a set of kimoyo beads. Although the physical time that you two spent together was minimal T’Challa still made it his mission to call and check in on you every few months and ensure that you were still doing okay. When he stopped calling one day you just assumed he had forgotten about you finally and had moved on with his life. It wasn’t until you were sitting outside one day smoking a blunt and a warm breeze that smelled like him passed you that you knew. No one had to call you to tell you he had passed, the smell of sandalwood and ginger in the wind was enough to tell you that not only had he passed on but he came to visit you like all the rest. A final way through the wind to tell you that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

By the time you had finished telling the story of you and T’Challa’s friendship you had patched Shuri’s wound and set Okoye’s arm. The moon was high in the night sky letting you know that it was later in the night than you intended to keep your guests up. 

“Alright,” You started with a clap of your hands. “We stay up any longer and I’m gonna run out of stories to tell.” 

Shuri went to protest, she loved to listen to you talk and claimed she could do it for hours but you hushed her with a look. “I’ve only got one spare bedroom, blame New Orleans architecture. But it’s got two beds so you two are more than welcome to have that.” 

Nakia mouthed a thank you to you, glad to have somewhere she knew was safe to rest her head for the night. Okoye just nodded at you, you could tell she had earned some amount of trust or at the minimum respect for you after listening to your story. The two women rose from their seats on the couch and made their way over to the open guest bedroom door. 

“Now you,” You turned your attention back to Shuri who was clearly very sleepy. “You can take my bed and I’ll take the couch.” 

“No, we will sleep together. In your bed.” Shuri declared, scrounging up her face and giving you a ‘what even made you think that wasn’t what was happening?’ look. 

“You need all the space to stretch out tonight.” You retorted, giving Shuri a look of your own. One that said ‘you’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m sleeping with you tonight.’ 

The Queen stood from her chair and did an exaggerated yawn holding her hand out to you. “Let's go.” 

That was all it took for Shuri to get you into your bed with her. You followed her up your stairs and crawled under your plush covers aside from her. As you assumed she would, she laid her head on your breast and wrapped her arms around your waist. You had asked her once why she enjoyed sleeping in that position with you so much, to which she replied that it was because she could hear your heartbeat in her dreams if she slept still enough. You wrapped your free arm around her waist and rubbed circles into her skin until she fell asleep. Only when you were sure she was truly asleep and you felt sleep coming to get you too did you finally speak. 

“Thank you for bringing her back to me.” 

Shuri was pulled from her sleep when her hands realized they no longer were holding tight onto your waist. Before she opened her eyes to find you, she heard you. The sound was faint but she could hear you singing a Wakandan lullaby, one her mother had sung to her many times as a child. She opened her eyes and saw you sitting out on the balcony with your back to her. Moonlight backlit your body and the sound of your voice entered the room through a small crack you left in the door. 

Light on her feet, Shuri made her way over to the doorframe so she could hear you better and watch you more intently. You were singing to the moon, the lullaby was a story about familial love. The song no doubt is a painful reminder for both you and Shuri about your former relationships with your respective families. When you finished, Shuri spoke softly to not scare you. 

“How come you’ve never sung like that for me entle?” 

You chuckled softly, you had already seen Shuri’s shadow so she didn’t alarm you when she finally decided to speak. “You should be in bed.” 

“You should sing more often.” 

You turned around and gave Shuri a look that only made her chuckle this time. She stepped out onto the balcony and sat down on the mat next to you. She leaned her head on your shoulder and you allowed it to rest there for a moment, savoring the sweet moment of silence between you and your love. 

“Did he really tell you we were coming?” You noticed how whenever Shuri brought up her brother her voice got quiet as if she worried saying his name too loudly would disturb his memory. 

You took Shuri’s hand in yours and interlaced your fingers. “Mhm, he always seems to bring you to me doesn't he.” 

Shuri let out a small puff of air in agreement with what you said. “Can you tell me what it feels like again?” 

You had answered this question for Shuri many times, trying to explain to her what it felt like when not only T’Challa spoke to you but any ancestor did. Any regular person would have found it annoying to continually answer the same question but you felt no burden obliging Shuri, especially when it was just you two being bathed in moonlight. 

“With T’Challa he comes to me like a breeze, a warm summer breeze. He’s always brief, never staying for too long, just passing by and staying long enough to feel his presence.” You thought for a moment about how you could further describe what T’Challa’s company felt like to you but no more words came to you so you just wrapped your arm around Shuri’s waist and pulled her close to you. You pressed a kiss to Shuri’s cheek and gave her a sweet smile. “Thank you.” She said and you nodded, not needing any thanks at that moment, just happy you could give her some amount of peace of mind. 

As you two sat there intertwined in each other and your own thoughts a breeze passed over you, smelling distinctly of sandalwood and ginger. A small nod from T’Challa signifying you had done well, you looked over at Shuri, and judging by the smile on her face you guessed she had felt it too. 

[romanarose]

Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

[raainberry]

Last Waltz

« A last dance refers to the final opportunity for someone to engage in or enjoy an experience before it ends. »

Spy!Yeji x Vigilente!reader

Angst

synopsis - you and yeji’s ambiguous rivalry gets tangled in a last waltz

wordcount - 1.9K

T/W - Violence (?), Blood (mentions), Death (allusion but not really)

A/N - In celebration of Itzy’s latest banger and Yeji’s solo, may I present to you my latest piece of work that i finished half an hour ago but started two weeks ago. I did not mean for it to be as dark but alas, the voices. Too late Enjoy!

You squinted your eyes as you looked through the glass ceiling.

It was hard to focus when your own reflection kept getting in the way, staring back at you within such an obscure silhouette.

You struggled to see past it at times, but the changes you witnessed were necessary. You needed to become someone else to take on such a mission.

Cold blood was the most difficult trait you had to develop, you hated feeling it running through your veins. It’s been years now, and you knew it would never go back to the way once was, back to normal: warm and senseless.

Now it seems as though it could only run in two extremes.

Ice cold, when facing the enemy. Whoever it was, you couldn’t bring yourseld to care. Getting them out of the way is all that matters.

Burning hot was a rare one. Losing your cool was something you forbid to yourself, or else you’d be as good as dead. It only happened twice, and twice you escaped death by what you could only take as pity.

If her tongue held itself back, her eyes made sure to let you know.

She could have easily killed you both times.

Third time’s a charm?

You wondered as you reminisced about Yeji’s figure the last time you’d crossed paths. She seemed so flawless from afar. The way her dress fit her body, an accomplice in the act she put on around all those unlawful citizens…

Both of you had a past, one that lead to very different paths until they became one in this hunt of evil.

The chase brought you together, got you close enough to dance around danger and betrayal for far too long.

As far as you “knew”, she was part of that ring, attached to that man’s arm like candy he waved around to subdue whoever he needed.

You couldn’t blame anyone involved, she was stunning. Strikingly gorgeous in both literal and figurative sense.

She wasn’t your target. She never was, but it seemed as though she decided to be. You always ended up fighting her instead of her boyfriend.

A too powerful ring leader, one that caused harm on a much bigger scale than any criminal should be able to.

You couldn’t help but wonder how she’d landed by his side.

Such talent. Such beauty. It was almost too pure of a stain in the midst of all this filth.

To some extent, it felt wrong to feel bad for her. You certainly regretted it when it caused you to lower your guard the first time. When you let that sweet, tempting smile lure you to the harmful consequences of a brainless heart.

Waking up in need of stitches to several spots on your face didn’t prevent you from lowering it again a second time, weeks ago. She’d become too familiar. You’d gotten too comfortable. The bathroom of an underground Gala would have become the stage to your public execution if it weren’t for the public itself.

“Get in my way again, I’ll take you out of it for good.” You remember hearing.

Her voice was distorted, taken over by the ringing in your ear as the cold tiles beneath kept you conscious.

The sound of her heels against them as she left… It was identical to the one that had followed you into this third meeting.

A once cold and deserted hotel in which heat and chaos had emerged as you made sure to take everything out of your way…

It was obvious there was no one to care for what was within these walls in years.

The curtains danced in the wind welcomed by the missing bay windows as you slowly walked alongside them. Each step offered a new view, new information to take in.

The moon highlighted the dust on the ground, various trash items undoubtedly accumulated by some brave and rowdy teenagers. You made sure not to kick any of it, mindful of your surroundings.

The dim emergency lighting made it difficult to assess them, but you remained focused. Broken chandeliers glimmered, fighting for your attention along with the detailed marble floors.

The design was sophisticated. A perfect, oddly beautiful ambush spot you’d willingly stepped right into.

All because of her.

The air suddenly felt cold on your face, allowing it to breathe after so long in that mask you proudly wore for years now.

It felt good. If only your lungs were allowed the same breath as the skin on your bruised cheeks.

You choked up, feeling a fifth punch landing on your jaw. Not that you kept count, you couldn’t even tell how many of your own fingers if you were to hold some of them up.

That girl could fight. She’d rightfully earned her title in your books, all you cared about at the moment was to make it out alive.

Not because you had to live, rather because you couldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing you surrender to her blows.

That kind of pleasure she only could relish from pride. It made your blood boil.

If you could just get everything to stop spinning… Maybe you could try to bruise that ego of hers.

“I have to say, Y/N, you got me used to better.” You heard her say. Her voice was distorted again. Almost unfamiliar if it weren’t for the echo in your mind. “Get yourself together.”

Her foot found your stomach, making you aware of how low you’d fallen. That last hit had sent you to the ground, and the kick only made you sink further into it.

The marble felt as good as it looked earlier; cold to the touch and so relieving to your burning, wounded skin, but the feeling startled you.

You couldn’t give up. Not against her.

So you listened to her, pushing yourself up to your knees, and sitting back on your heels. You were thankful she allowed it, but wondered what she had in mind.

Her eyes were darker than you remembered. They looked so pretty just a few weeks ago, you couldn’t blame yourself for falling for them.

“So much for not showing me mercy, Yeji.” A broken smile pulled on your lips in an attempt to taunt her.

Months of rivalry. You knew her patience ran as thin as a strand of her own hair.

“The spy I know would have broken my back already.”

The moonlight betrayed her cold features, shedding light on the way your words managed to get to her.

It was for a split second, but you caught that eye twitch. It filled your worn out body with hope. You still had a chance.

“Spy…?” She repeated, out of breath.

You knew this whole time? Or had you figured it out? If so, how? When?

She’s been undercover so many times before. This wasn’t her toughest job, but you sure made it difficult. As if getting in her way wasn’t enough, you’d now just revealed yourself to be a genuine threat to her mission.

In her eyes, it was a permission to kill.

“Get up.” She ordered through her teeth.

The weak chuckle you gave in response only riled her up. She didn’t know what was with you, but something made her want to push not only you but herself as well to your absolute limits.

Some vigilente popping out of nowhere, sabotaging plans she’d spend days on, ruining a reputation she spent years building within her division—she could never let you get away unscathed.

Much less alive now that you’d blown her cover.

Though, if this was the last time she’d fight you, she had to make the fun last.

She reached for the collar of the rough tactical gear you mainly wore to look the part, furrowing her eybrows at the feeling of the fabric.

She hated the sight of it. It was as though you were mocking her silently, replicating and treating her uniform as a mere costume.

Your body suddenly rose closer to her, her pull strong enough to hold it there as she stared right into your eyes.

“Fight me.”

If that last laugh of yours hadn’t used up most of your remaining strength, you’d have done it again.

Was she begging? It sure sounded like it. What you were sure of was she certainly intended for her words to come out as an order.

Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her the same way her eyes had.

“I know you’re doing this on purpose.”

You smiled. She knew you so well.

You’d caught enough of your breath to retaliate, grabbing her waist and leg in order to pull her to the ground.

She barely had time to blink that her back hit the floor, the latter knocking the wind out of her lungs. The bit of air she managed to gasp for was soon trapped when your arm found her throat.

You made sure to look into her eyes as you applied just enough pressure to make her panic. You wanted to see it; her desperation to stay alive.

It showed she was human too, despite seemingly doing her best to hide it for that character of hers.

“All I’m asking for…” You panted, “Is you get out of my way.”

Taking that ring leader down was another job her boss had assigned to her.

You… You’d assigned it to yourself the day his power spread enough to reach your family.

She always got the job done, and she was set on completing this one too, going so far as going undercover and infiltrating the ranks as the leader’s girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her plans, you promised to yourself that man would be ruined beyond one could imagine by your hands.

“I was looking forward to this.” She managed to croak out.

She struggling as much as you were, but her words made you lessen the pressure on her throat as they made you realize something.

So were you.

Your eyes were defiant against hers, yet no pity in sight. The blood felt cold in your veins, despite her ever so provocative smile.

A soft chuckle left your lips in disbelief. You finally managed to overpower her.

Yeji fought to even get a couple breaths in, but she wouldn’t be caught wasting a single second to overthrow her opponent. She exploited that second of vulnerability your own body displayed against your will.

Another blink, and her hands shoved you away from her before her boots launched you back to the ground.

It was a last effort kind of move on her part, although not in the desperate way you might think. She was set on putting an end to this rivalry tonight, and nothing could stop her.

This was the last effort she’d put into this side quest. Her last attempt at getting you out of the way for good. It had to be.

She dragged herself up, making sure to look down at you as she walked to your side, priding herself at how weak she’d rendered you.

The glow in her eyes was entrancing. The longer you looked into them, the more you confused the weak fluorescent light it came from as sympathy.

“I told you to get out of my way…” She taunted from above.

You could only stare at her, following her hypnotizing figure as she lowered a knee to the ground. You would have loved to look at her a little longer before your eyes fluttered shut under her touch.

It was light as a feather. Her fingers were so delicate all of a sudden, it almost erased the blood she’d spilled from your veins.

“Why didn’t you listen?” She whispered.

She could draw a small shape with the amount of it on your face that night.

Maybe it was the fruit of your imagination. A last attempt at hope from your weakened brain as it fought to stay afloat.

You swore you she’d drawn a heart before plunging it under the surface.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Can I join your game? The song that I pick is is your bedroom ceiling bored?, while the genre would be idiots to lovers and the group that I chose is Enhypen. Thank you! 💕

CUTE okay!!!

is your bedroom ceiling bored? | jake

It's 5:34 in the morning, and you can't sleep. instead, you're staring at the ceiling trying to get your brain to shut off, but you just can't. because, like an idiot, you're wondering what jake is doing.

you figure he's probably asleep, like most people are at this hour, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing it: the way he curls around himself on his side, his hair falling in a shaggy mess onto his forehead, half-smiling even in a dream. you shouldn't be thinking about him this way -- shouldn't be as stupidly, recklessly, embarrassingly down bad as you are. and yet...

you pull out your phone, not surprised to see not a single notification from your best friend, whose sleeping image is the one destroying your mind slowly one minute at a time. you open up your messaging app and have to scroll to find your last conversation with him, which hasn’t happened in years.

the last text he sent was the one that said, “I love you. You know that, right?” just before everything went up in flames. just before the one and only fight you’ve ever had with him. just before you stormed away from him and refused to answer the phone when he called. and this was a week and a half ago.

you start to type.

im sorry.

i miss you. can we talk?

why can’t i stop thinking about you?

ultimately, it never feels like enough. frustrated, you sit up, sliding the covers off you and moving to the window. you wrench it open, stepping out onto your roof in the cool night air, and look up at the moon sinking lower in the sky, preparing for the hints of summer sun you see on the horizon.

“hi again,” you whisper at it. “can’t sleep.”

this has become routine for you. every once in awhile your thoughts about jake rose to a volume you couldn’t keep to yourself, so you’d mount the roof and tell the moon — even if it hung thin as a fingernail in the sky. and now that you weren’t seeing jake every day, you had a lot more time to talk about him.

“i really, really miss him,” you whisper, even though you want to scream.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

across town, jake stirs and wakes from a fitful sleep. his dreams are all about you these days, and it aches.

no matter how much he fights the thoughts of you, or tries to be angry, he still wakes up thinking about you every morning. he’d hoped things would get better — hoped the hole you carved in his heart would relax, would heal. instead he finds himself suffocating in the dim light from his window, so he flings it open to welcome in the sunlight that will come peeking over the skyline in seconds.

“hi,” he says softly as it shines through the open window. “any advice for me today?”

but as always, the sun says nothing, leaving him alone to think.

and think he does — about how well he knows you. how spending his time with you is the best way for him to spend it. how he doesn’t care about your excuses for why you’d be a terrible couple.

“they’re the one,” he finally decides. “they just have to be.” and he races from the window to pick up his phone.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

you’re still on the roof, watching the sun rise, so tired you can barely sit upright but also somehow knowing you won’t be able to make your eyes close if you go inside.

so you stare at your cellphone. you can’t even blame jake for not speaking to you. you wouldn’t want to speak to you either.

but oh, my goodness. you want to speak to him so bad. even the memory of his voice on the other end burns like an insult, like bitterness burns in your belly. you wonder if he feels the same way you do. you hope he does.

just as you make up your mind to call, his name pops up on your screen.

your heart beats — once, twice — hard in your chest before you answer it with a shaking hand. “hello?” you rasp.

“i miss you,” he says. “i’m coming over.”

for the first time in days, you smile.

[dreamsofalife]

Shy doesn't let her speak another word before the flashlight connects with Joy's face, sending her tumbling to the ground. However, being rather panicked and reactive, the blow isn't as hard as it could be. Joy doesn't have the time to respond verbally, but a grasping hand manages to catch Shy's sleeve and pull her down to the ground with her; if I'm going down, you're coming with me.

"Will you listen to me for one minute?!" Joy's pinned to the ground, her thin fingers wrenching Shy's hands away from her. The way she yells isn't her normal irritated snap; it's akin to a frightened animal, wild eyed and feral. "I don't have much time, that demon seed with the fake leg is probably still after me! What kinds of people have you been hanging out with since I left?!"

She doesn't answer. The two of them struggle, rolling across the sea of darkened grass, pale moonlight the only witness to their desperate struggle. Shy strikes; once, twice, fist connecting with Joy's face more times than she can count. She's in a blind, animalistic panic that can't be reasoned away. The mind is quiet while the body and emotions rage, demanding; eliminate the threat, get rid of her, kill her, KILL HER-

But before she can reach such a terrible point, before she can do what can never be taken back, she looks down, and she sees it. That terrified face, almost blue under the glow of the moon, body heaving as tears stream down her face. She sees something truly, genuinely pitiful...and, she stands up.

There comes a time in our lives when we stop mythologizing things, and by extension, people; our parents stop being infallible and look to us like ordinary humans, our teachers are no longer the pantheon of Gods deciding our fate. The closet monster morphs back into the moth-eaten raincoat bought for us years in advance that we forgot existed.

For Shy, her moment was now. Standing over Joy-impossibly beautiful, perfect, cruel, capricious as her very namesake Joy-who now sat dirty, sobbing, and downright pathetic...something in her just broke.

This isn't a monster. This isn't an angel, a succubus, or something out of the tortured love stories she consumed by the pound as a teen. She's human. Flawed, wretched, and as of now, no longer able to hurt her. No more than she already had. She can't bring herself to fear something she pities so much.

"You are...so fucked up, you know that? Not just what you did last week, but like, in general?"

"What are you-"

"Shush!" Joy actually flinches at the intensity of her voice. "You're always doing that, always interrupting me! Even when we were together, you always used to interrupt! A-and you used to laugh at my poetry, and stole my perfume...you didn't talk to me for a week because you thought the waitress at Bukowski's was flirting with me! She was my second cousin, Joy!"

"Are you still mad about that?! I said I was-"

"No, you didn't!" Shy snaps back, eyes flashing. "That was the worst thing! You never apologized for anything you did, you always had to justify it or act like it never happened! You still don't ever apologize! Christ alive, look at yourself! You're here trying to justify almost killing me, to me! You only apologized for it because Daniel made you do it! Because Jill is on your heels and Nymh is hunting you down! Because the people who actually know and love me are doing something about it!"

Love...that's why she's even alive, isn't it? Lo found her and got to her in time. Alice got Daniel to buy her time to heal and keep Joy at bay for awhile until she managed to run. Jill and Nymh had been chomping at the bit trying to get revenge for her, everyone who visited her in the hospital...her room is still piled high with flowers.

She can barely register the tears pouring down her face.

"I feel sorry for you, you know. You hurt me because you felt like you had nothing left, and now...now you don't. There was a time I would have taken you back, would have just...just forgiven you for it all and thought it was okay. But I know better now. I met people who taught me how to love for real, and they're the only reason I'm still here right now. I've moved on, Joy; it's time for you to do the same. For all you like to talk about taking responsibility for your actions, you haven't done so once...so I'm giving you the choice. Own up to it. Everyone knows what you did, so own up to it and take responsibility. Stay here and get arrested, I won't press charges; I'll let the state decide what they want to do. Or, you take the coward's way out and run, but if you run...I can tell you that life will be miserable for you, if you can manage to survive that long. I'm begging you, Joy...do the right thing. For once, do the right thing."

Joy doesn't respond, not verbally at least. Her eyes lock with Shy's for a moment, pleading before she lowers her head.

She has to do the right thing. She has to give up; she can't run forever.

Once again, sirens wail like a banshee in the night, and once again, Shy finds herself unable to sleep. She's questioned briefly, and as her ex is taken away in handcuffs, she can't help but feel a deep ache in the pit of her soul.

These are scars that won't heal, but in time, they're going to fade. She's still scared, broken, and maybe even in shock, but at the very least? The nightmare is over. She's going to be just fine.

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

Another fact abt moons. We have another rn ! an asteroid was going abt its business and flying thru space, got a bit too close to earth, and now is rotating around us. This also isn’t the first time smtn like this has happened. Twice before it’s been something called a “short capture” where it rotates around us for abt a week or so, and twice it has been a “long capture” which can last for years. we’re going to have this one for about 2 months, but u probably won’t be able to see it on your own. But still !!!!!!

WHATTTTTTT.

THATS SO FUCKING COOL I LOVE THAT. thank u for sharing ur facts w me they always make my day <3

[1358456]

Game Schedules

Well, since I returned to this Tumblr, I might as well continue with the game posts as well, like those Yellow version runs, Lonk games, etc. So, here's another loose schedule for gameplays I plan on posting for the foreseeable future.

1) Pokemon Yellow "Free to Play" run I did this before I went away last time so I figured, why not give it another go? Beat Pokemon Yellow using only gift Pokemon! And this time, with added objectives. Last time, I only beat the Pokemon League. This time, I need to beat Oak and the level 205 Agatha. ... If I can. If I recall, the available options were: Pikachu, Charmander, Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Eevee, Lapras, Aerodactyl, Kabuto/Omanyte, Hitmonlee/Hitmonchan. I can already tell right off the bat that the moment I get an Eevee, I'll turn that into Jolteon and then sack the Pikachu. And I'll probably do this run before Yakuza 8 comes out next week.

2) Lonk: LAD I'll continue with it. I don't remember where I left off so... that'd be interesting. Lonk: Like a Dragon coming... probably in February, as I'd imagine all my free time next week would be devoted to Yakuza 8, and then I'd probably be reeling for a while, and I'll definitely need something to cheer me up. Would Lonk be up for that task?

3) Pokemon Crystal "Free to Play" run Why not give that a go too? I don't know how many gift Pokemon there are in GSC though. Starter, Togepi, Eevee, Tyrogue (WAY later into the game), and... um... Shuckle. ... Uh oh. ... Oh, a Spearow too because that'll make a difference. ... Hmm... There's a chance I wouldn't be able to go through Whitney with this. Hehe.

For now I'll just start with those three. Then I might move on Emerald version which I don't remember all that much, and maybe even BW and BW2. I barely remember anything about Generation V games since those I haven't restarted almost ever. I've gone through Emerald version twice for RNG abuse on Latias and Latios, both with Mimic for Mimic-Rage glitch abuse in Generation IV, and those require separate runs. That was years ago. I've gone through White version also twice, and that was... when BW just came out. White2 I've gone through a few times for RNG and Dream World RNG abuse, but again, years ago. I don't remember much of anything in those games. So that'd be interesting.

And since this Tumblr is making me go down old Pokemon memory lane, I guess I'll take a look at my Ultra Moon to see what Pokemon I had there. I remember leaving a whole ton of redundant/unnecessary Pokemon in the Pokemon Bank which probably disappeared many years ago, so those are lost to the ages. But it would be fun to see what Pokemon I had and what nicknames I gave them for what reason. I expect there would be a crapton of Starcraft related nicknames because of course there would be. Like I said. Those references are everywhere. ... I know I have an Sp. Atk focused Salamence named Tempest because Mega Salamence looks like a Protoss Tempest. I remember that one.

[nickgerlich]

Here Comes The Sun

When opportunity knocks, it behooves you to answer the door, and answer it fast. Opportunity seldom knocks twice, and if you miss it, then it’s on you. And if you are a company, you best be ever mindful of what’s going on around you and who or what may be knocking, ready to seize the moment.

Like Frito Lay's SunChips and Moon Pie are doing right now, leaning into the upcoming total solar eclipse that will occur early afternoon of Monday 8th April. With brand names referencing celestial bodies, this is a no-brainer. But come Tuesday the 9th, the party will be over until 2044, when the next total solar eclipse is visible in the US.

SunChips is selling a limited edition Pineapple Habanero and Black Bean Spicy Gouda chip, and have partnered with astronaut Kellie Gerardi for the promotion. Moon Pie, reprising its effort from the 2017 eclipse, has gone all out with their boxed Survival Kit that includes four Moon Pies and two pairs of eclipse viewing glasses.

And as you might expect, both are pulling out all the stops on social media.

This is classic marketing opportunism, and it’s fun. No one is trying to capitalize on a bad thing, and all the other brands that do not have a celestial connection will have to sit this one out. Opportunity, in this case, came knocking for a select few, and only two answered the door.

Of course, there is some risk inherent, because all of that merchandise will be extremely dated on Tuesday. The shelf life is short, and while it might be possible that some collectors might clamor for unsold Moon Pie Survival Kit boxes if only because it is dated, I could see these things winding up at Big Lots and Ollie’s in a week or so.

Along the path of totality, hotels have been reserved for years. Even campgrounds are full up. But, as we know all too well, Mother Nature might not cooperate. We need clear skies for these kinds of things to happen, and the farther east and north you go along the arc of totality, the more those odds shrink, based on historic data.

As for Amarillo and Canyon, we will be at 87% totality, and of the cities on or near totality, have among the highest percentage of available sunlight year round (Lubbock and Midland are very similar too, all of us between 73% and 75%, and in the Top 15 of the nation). We might not have totality here, but the odds are more in our favor to see the event. Oh, and the event lasts only for about four minutes, so there’s little margin for error. Even Andy Warhol had 11 minutes more.

I am bummed that I have a campus class that morning at 9:30, and I can’t just cancel it for an eclipse. But…I could hop in my van at 10:45 and drive toward Dallas like a mad man, probably getting close to Vernon at the precise moment. I can reschedule office hours, because with the next total eclipse not happening for 20 years, I would be 85, and who knows what I’ll be able to do then.

Or just stay in Canyon and be happy with 87%. It will still make for some amazing photos. And while the special SunChip flavor doesn’t sound all that appealing to me, I would be happy to bring along some Moon Pies wherever I happen to be. The marketer in me is all too happy to throw some props to the companies answering opportunity. It’s a lesson we should all be remembering.

Dr “Everything Under The Sun Is In Tune” Gerlich

Audio Blog