#also it completely fails to answer the question but listen. sometimes

[rileyslibrary]

The Log Cabin: Wish and Hope

Synopsis: You go on a vacation with the Lieutenant at his log cabin.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2,617

A/N:

Wholesome fluff.

This is the final part of the story, but you can also read it as a one-shot. (Part 1 & Part 2 if you’re interested)

The inspiration behind the exterior/interior of the cabin.

Also, writing this chapter was quite the journey.

———————————————————————

The sun has almost set by the time you reach your destination.

Simon parks the car at the bottom of the hill, where the road ends, marking the boundary between civilisation and the wilderness. He retrieves his balaclava from the back seat’s pocket and scans the surroundings before getting out of the car.

“Get the axe and Bourbon from the backseat,” he instructs as he steps out.

You follow his directive, picking up the well-worn axe and a bottle of amber liquid from the backseat.

Simon slings his rucksack over his shoulder and tucks his mask into one of the front pockets. He takes your bag with one hand and a red toolbox from the car’s floor with the other.

You show him the axe and Bourbon from across the car, shaking both in your hands. With your supplies gathered, you exchange a nod—a habit you picked up from the field—and begin your way up the hill, leaving the car behind.

———————————————————————

You walk beside him, but he’s gaining ground quickly. He looks unfazed by the long journey—as if he hadn’t spent the entire day driving.

You, on the other hand, are exhausted. Each stride feels heavier on your legs, and the uneven path doesn’t help. The moss cushions your steps, making it difficult to gauge the depth of the ground beneath you.

Sometimes, you stumble, and he glances back to check on you. He looks you up and down, assessing you, before returning his attention to the trail ahead.

“Tired?” he asks, which feels more like a rhetorical question—an observation, a statement—than as a genuine concern.

You shake your head. Fatigue clouds your thoughts, and you fail to register that he can’t perceive your nonverbal response. He turns around once more, waiting for an answer.

“Nope,” you reply, forcing yourself to stand a bit taller. “Not tired at all.”

His gaze shifts forward, and you slump.

You try to focus on your senses, hoping to distract your mind until you reach the cabin. You look up at the tree branches, outlined by the fading light, casting a dark shadow above you. You listen to the birds calling, the insects responding, and a stream nearby. You take a deep breath, smelling the pine and wet ground. It seems like it rained not long ago. It’s a bit chilly. You wonder why you didn’t bring your jacket, only to recall that it’s August. Then you realise it’s August but in the Scottish woodlands.

———————————————————————

You must have walked for another fifteen minutes before the cabin finally reveals itself. It’s almost dark now, but you can see the worn wood that graces it. The hut is tiny, way smaller than you imagined, with a triangular roof and a chimney. How does one fit a fireplace in there? How does he fit in there? How are you both going to fit in there?

A small front porch extends from the cabin’s entrance, complete with a lone chair and a lantern hung next to the door. A serene pond reflects the darkening sky nearby, its surface motionless, still, mimicking the night.

As you approach the cabin, you notice a smaller room that you assume to be the toilet—a logical consideration given the cabin’s size. An open shower is nearby, next to a tree, shielded by strategically placed vertical logs for privacy.

Simon places your bags on the porch and retrieves the lantern. He fills it with fuel, lights it up, and hands it to you. He unlocks the cabin door, pushes it open, and motions with his head for you to take the first step inside.

It’s cosy. Intimate. How will he handle such closeness?

A two-seater brown leather sofa invites you to relax while a small fireplace stands against the wall. A compact table with a lone chair marks the boundary between the living room and the kitchen, which consists of a fire stove, a single counter, and exposed cabinets stocked with plates, cups, and utensils.

You concentrate on a nook at the far end of the kitchen, where a double bed is placed. It’s so snug it looks like the room was built around it. A small window in the bed’s headboard frames a view of the outside shower.

“Did you build this by yourself?” You ask, placing the axe and the Bourbon on the table.

Simon’s head pops in from the doorway at the sound of your voice.

“What?” he asks.

“This,” you gesture to the cabin. “Did you build it on your own?”

He seems surprised by your question. “Me?” he points to himself. “Nah, I found it like this.”

“You found it like this,” you echo, raising your eyebrows.

“I bought it that way and made a few tweaks,” he explains as he places your bags on the sofa and proceeds to get into the details of his modifications.

You focus again on the interior, capturing the nuances he points out. The stove, the sofa, the solitary chair beside the table – they all reflect his choices. That’s him; you’ve never seen him like this. Or, at least, this side of him.

“Also installed a couple of solar panels; I’ll go check on ’em,” he concludes, grabbing a flashlight from the toolbox. “We eat when I come back, yeah?”

You nod, but he’s already heading out, leaving you alone in the cabin. You set the lantern on the kitchen table.

You want to rest, but the sofa is covered with bags and equipment, and you’re too weary to clear them away. The lone chair by the table doesn’t look like it would do any favours for your achy back. Instead, you opt for the bed. You sit on its edge and pat the mattress.

Thoughts bubble to the surface, and your mind focuses on a particular issue—the sleeping arrangements. Yes, you’re comrades who shared a bed out of necessity before, but that was a different scenario—now, sleeping together in a bed while on vacation? A shared vacation? That’s an entirely different matter.

As you reflect, your fingers graze the sheets. They’re soft—inviting. Leaning back, you sink into the mattress, its comfort drawing you in. The hiss of the lantern, paired with your breath, becomes a lullaby in the cabin’s silence. As the emotional strain and the tension in your body eases, the bed cradles you, its comfort pulling you deeper into its embrace. The day’s worries fade away with each breath. You close your eyes one last time for the day.

———————————————————————

The morning sun filters in through the bedroom window, gently nudging you awake. You blink, focusing on the wooden wall that stands inches away from your nose. You sit up slowly. Strange—your body isn’t positioned the way it was when you drifted off to sleep.

You turn at the empty space beside you; he is not there, yet the slightly flattened pillow and the tousled sheets hint that he has occupied that spot. There’s also a subtle change in your clothing; while you’re still dressed the same as yesterday, your shoes are missing. You wiggle your toes.

The sounds of the outdoors seep into the cabin, and you look out the window. Yesterday must have drained you completely. Sliding to the edge of the bed, you plant your bare feet onto the cool wooden floor, spying your shoes near the cabin entrance. As you approach them, you instinctively reach for Simon’s jacket, hanging over the chair. Wrapping yourself in it, you inhale deeply at its collar.

You slip into your shoes and open the cabin door. The brisk morning air greets you first, biting at your skin, and you hug Simon’s jacket tighter around you. A weird sound is coming from somewhere nearby that feels out of place from its surroundings.

Your eyes narrow toward the source—something by the pond. You shield your eyes from the sun’s glare, and the source becomes clearer. Simon stands at the pond’s edge, wearing a grey shirt that clings to his sweat-dampened chest. Gripping the axe with both hands, he raises it overhead, the blade briefly shining before descending with a solid thud. It bites into the wood and splits it in half with an audible crack. Then again. And again. And again.

Occasionally, he lets out a soft grunt as he swings the axe, releasing the tension from his body until he repeats the same movement. The sweat glistens on his skin, and his biceps flex with every lift, then relaxing with each hatch.

“Morning,” you finally say.

He pauses mid-swing and looks up. He sets the axe down against a log and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Dark patches are spreading from his underarms. He’s breathless, so he nods at you instead.

“What happened in there?” you ask, motioning towards the bed.

Simon’s lips curl up. A single droplet drips from the tip of his nose as he bends and picks up the axe again.

“You confused sleeping with dying; that’s what happened.”

You chuckle. “You couldn’t wake me up, huh?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “For someone who claims to be ‘not tired at all,’ you sure fell asleep like a rock,” he says, swinging the axe once more to split another log.

“Tea?” you offer.

“Please.”

You grin. “Beg a little, will you?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Careful now,” he warns you jokingly, giving the axe a casual twirl in his hand and keeping on working.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the kitchen. You grab a kettle, fill it with water, and place it on the stove. Opening the tea box, you browse the selection with your finger, then turn to search for Simon outside, thinking of asking him about his tea preference. However, he’s nowhere to be found. Redirecting your focus to the options, you speculate he’d be content with whatever you choose; he wouldn’t bring them here if he didn’t like them. You settle on Earl Grey.

As the water heats up, you ready the teapot with the tea blend and look out the window above the bed. There’s movement. You take a closer look.

Simon stands right by the shower. He slowly peels off his shirt, revealing his upper body inch by inch, and drapes it over the partition as he steps into the shower. His jeans and boxers follow suit, finding their place next to his shirt. He lifts his hand and turns on the shower head, finally releasing the water he yearns for after his hard work. His eyes shut as he lets the water flow down his body, starting from his head, tracing the line of his neck, and continuing down to his shoulders.

Did you lose your ability to breathe, or did time slow down? Does it matter? And, close your gaping mouth; you’ve seen nothing extraordinary. I, on the other hand, have seen every inch of him. Pathetic.

At least, that’s what the kettle appears to be screaming at you as it whistles for your attention. You remove it from the heat, pour it into the teapot and set it aside. You return to the window above the bed; Simon is no longer there.

You curse at the kettle.

———————————————————————

With the soothing warmth of tea inside you, you set out on a hiking adventure into the forest. It’s a familiar trail to Simon, yet the landscape seems untouched—whispering leaves, twittering birds, the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Sunlight filters through the foliage, draping the ground with a delicate pattern of golden lace. Moss and decomposing leaves mingle with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers to create a unique scent.

As you continue on the trail, you get captivated by an ancient tree standing alone, gnarled and weathered by time. Its roots grip the earth like they were there before your kind began to call this place home, and its branches reach for the sky as if praying to the gods. You touch its trunk and feel unworthy.

“Naychuh.” Simon’s voice breaks the silence. It takes a few seconds for you to register what he just said.

“Indeed,” you add. “Nature.”

“It’s amazing how they can withstand everything and remain so strong,” he observes, tracing the tree’s bark with his fingers. “Resilient.”

“I wish I were like that.” You murmur.

He averts his gaze, releasing his grip on the trunk. “The environment definitely helps,” he comments, shrugging. “Plant this tree in the Caribbean, and it’ll be dead in a week, but here?” He taps the trunk. “It flourishes.”

“Our environment isn’t very… flourishing, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he corrects you with a smile and motions towards the path ahead. “This way.”

The walk continues, each step leading you deeper into the woods. Neither of you utters another word. The nearby stream does all of the talking for you.

———————————————————————

The journey back to the cabin is easy; you both seem relaxed, no matter the distance you have walked. The forest’s inhabitants appear to switch shifts, preparing for the night; birds cease to chirp, and owls take their positions. Shadows lengthen, and the air carries a gentle chill, hinting at the approaching evening.

You’re filthy but content. Happy. You light the lantern and pull out fresh clothes from your bag.

Simon squats in front of the fire pit outside, preparing it for grilling. He piles the logs he cut earlier into the pit, tosses in some dried pine needles, and lights them up.

Two very different ways of getting burned stand before you. You step closer to him.

“Mind if I hit the showers?” you ask.

“Go ahead,” he says, nodding towards the enclosure.

“Promise you won’t look?”

“Not a fucking pervert like you are,” he jokes with a playful smile on his lips as he pokes the fire. “Spying from the windows.”

“I beg your pardon,” you snap, your face slowly turning red. “I wasn’t spying!”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t!” You retort and smile. “I was simply enjoying what nature had to offer.”

He stifles a chuckle and shakes his head. “We eat in 20,” he announces. “Go.”

———————————————————————

With the sun now entirely gone, the fire glows brighter against the darkness.

You sit side by side, close to the fire, content from the shared meal. Each of you holds a glass of Bourbon and looks up at the sky, admiring the shooting stars.

A chuckle escapes you, catching Simon’s attention.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitted together.

You look down at the glass in your hand, then back up at the sky.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “I just find it funny how trees stay resilient while stars fall.”

He follows your line of sight to the night sky.

“Trees fall, just like stars,” he says, swaying his glass. “And just like us.”

“Interesting perspective, Lieut—”

“Simon,”

“Interesting perspective, Simon.”

He nods. “We all fall when the time comes.” He whispers.

You tilt your head, studying his profile. He’s aware of your gaze, yet he doesn’t shy away.

“But every fall serves a purpose,” he continues. “Trees offer us warmth, for example.”

“And what about us?” You ask.

“We put ourselves on the line to protect others.”

“Is that what you think we do? Protect?”

“I try to find some reasoning behind it,” he admits, shrugging.

Your focus shifts back to the night sky.

“And what about stars?” you wonder. “What purpose do shooting stars hold? Creating a spectacle for us, the protectors?”

He takes a sip from his glass, a soft smile on his lips.

“They make us wish,” he murmurs. “They make us wish and hope.”

———————————————————————

[lazorbeanz]

Late Night

Unbreakable Bond

Headcanons #3

🧡 During the times when he’s not busy or on missions, Tails has volunteered to help other kids in his area with their homework, especially maths. (one could say he’s a tutor lol) and they all love him (they’ve given him the name ‘the Fun Enstein,’ though Tails wonders if Sonic has been whispering in their ears), because he somehow manages to turn boring, stressful homework, with all its mountain load of impossible tasks, into a fun investigation, as he eagerly dives into the problem with them, breaking it up and solving it piece by piece until they can put those pieces together and get a complete answer. But it’s not just his teaching methods as to why they love him so much, but how he presents the task in front of them. He makes it not just a question on a page anymore, but rather an important mission, a thrilling adventure in their minds. He displays it to them in a way that will not only get their thinking caps on, but also make them just as excited to solve them, as tough as it may appear, because Tails wants them to know that every problem must and always has a solution…and that learning can be fun if you make it! The energy and enthusiasm he has radiates onto those while teaching, his giddiness and excitement over what they’re tryna solve spreads to them, realising that it can be fun, because he makes it look fun and easy and possible. He doesn’t push them or expect them to know right off the bat, if they have questions, he stops and listens, and will get them to use their “thinking caps,” providing small hints or information he gives out to see if they can solve it themselves. If they’re stuck or confused on something, he will go through it over and over, simplifying and carefully explaining it until they understand (he’s already used to doing that with a certain blue hedgehog)

Sometimes he will get so caught up in their work, he ends up doing a problem or 2 all by himself. He can’t help it though, it’s just out of instinct.

Many parents have come to Tails with questions as to why or how he is so good at what he does.

“When you love something with a burning passion…something that brings you so much joy, you will naturally have the ability to teach others, because you will end up finding joy in teaching them, and might just so happens to spread that joy to those you teach.” He replies

Because to him, this is his passion..this is the thing that brought him that joy. This was something that once brought him nothing but a series of bullying and mockery from his peers, now brings him a series of praise and compliments from those around him. This is the something that he can share to help others, whether it be to save the world, or to save a kid from failing their math class.

Whenever Tails thinks back on when people would bully him with names such as “Mr. know-It-All,” he shrugs…they were right, because being a genius means you know it ALL. And if there’s one thing he knows…

Is that he loves being a STEM nerd :)

💙 Sonic, for the life of him, cannot stay still for too long, and that makes sense..i mean he’s the fastest thing alive for crying out loud…he doesn’t stop moving. Even if it’s just a leg rapidly bobbing up and down, or finger tapping on a surface, or…the fidgeting…oh the dreaded fidgeting!!

And Tails completely understands his reasons for this behaviour…he knows his brother almost, if not, better than he knows himself sometimes, but BOY does it really begin to grind his gears when he begins to subconsciously start fiddling with something of Tails’ when he’s in the lab with him, or if they were eating out, he would pick up the cutlery and twirl it around in his fingers. Even if he has no item to hold Into, he will start tugging at the ends of his gloves. It’s like he has to hold or touch something…anything he can get his hands on.

Tails can’t complain too much though, as he also tends to do the same thing, but it’s almost as if Sonic’s is twice as annoying because it’s twice as frequent to happen. He’s even bought him an unruly amount of fidget spinners, all for them to have their fair share of tasting plaster, due to Sonic spinning them so fast, they’d spin right out his fingers, and straight through a wall.

So after multiple repairs and half tempted to remove the entire wall, he scratched that idea, leaving him sitting at his desk, finger tapping the surface in deep thought…finger tapping..oh no how he was doing it too! But that’s when he got the lightbulb, and began to use all that tapping energy in his fingers into rapidly typing on his keyboard.

~

Tails walks into Sonic’s bedroom, where he was sitting on his bed and to no surprise, fidgeting. He plonks down beside him, and hands him a tablet.

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Was all he said, before getting up and making his exit.

Sonic stared at the tablet perplexed for a short moment before picking it up and looking at the screen, all he saw was a square button that said Start. He tapped it, and before he knew it, music began to play and multiple squares were appearing on the screen increasingly fast, but he managed to hit them before it was too late..if that was the game, he thought.

What was this Tails had just bestowed upon him? Soon enough he began to fall into the swing of things, hitting and swiping the split second a square would appear. He even changed the difficulty because it was too easy. This game…was just so…satisfying. His fingers have never felt so relieved. Even the music was catchy too. So he sat there for the rest of the day tapping away to the beat.

~

Tails was humming away as he tinkered about on his latest project. He then shot a side-eye to see his older brother, standing by his desk with the tablet he’d given him earlier. He looked up to face him, and when he did Sonic tossed the tablet at him. Looking down at it, Tails noticed there was a finger sized crack in the screen. He looked up at the hedgehog wide eyed. “How did you-”

“Fix it.” Sonic said, turned around and left.

Well I guess he enjoyed it then…

s/o to @mbrine for the inspo of these 2 hcs ☝️

🧡 Tails used to earn pocket money from Sonic for the little things he’d achieve when tagging along on his adventures, or if he was being a good boy and sonic decided to treat him.

Now, it’s Sonic earning pocket money from Tails…

Tails (mildy unenthusiastic): congratulations Sonic, you managed to put your laundry in the machine…here’s $1.50

💙 Sonic is fairly good at Tap and Irish dancing *cough cough happy feet sonic edition HACCK-*

🧡 Sonic takes pictures of funny or weird things and makes memes out of them to send to Tails

💙 Sonic and Tails are stargazing and Sonic points out a star.

“That’s a bright one.”

“That’s Sirius, also known as the Dog Star. It’s the brightest star in our night sky. Its name literally means “glowing” in Greek. Sirius has a high luminosity in comparison to other stars, and has a mass twice of that which the sun has. In fact, if you were to place Sirius next to the Sun, it would outshine the sun more than 20 times over…”

Hold up- HOW DOES HE KNOW THE STAR EXACTLY…NAME N EVERYTHING?

Sonic doesn’t even bother to fact check him as he’s probably right. All he’s thinking about now is whether his little brother has an IQ of 300 or 3000…

🧡 Sonic and Tails have a special handshake, and I mean a gumball and Darwin kinda handshake lmao

[seokstrivia]

Written In Pages

Summary: Sometimes, it’s for the best, 

Work!AU | KHH M.List | Word count: 2.4K

Boss Christian Yu x Writer Reader - angst, old feelings, exes, new love vs old love, drama(?)

After slamming your laptop shut for the umpteenth time, you groaned in irritation and took the last sip of your wine.

Your dream job was to write articles for a magazine, specifically inspiring stories about everyday life situations. You disliked writing about new cafes and hotspots to visit in Seoul, South Korea on a hot summer day. Your boss, Christian Yu, was someone you despised.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back on your couch, feeling exhausted from working for long hours and staring at a bright screen. Despite the fatigue, you were able to enjoy the peacefulness of your apartment which was quietly enveloped by the sound of light rain tapping against the tall windows that offered a view of the brightly lit city at night. The cityscape was a sight to behold, with buildings and cars stretching out as far as the eye could see, and you found it captivating.

It felt surreal.

You struggled with the idea of writing this article for a while, but now, as it is almost 3 am, you just want to finish it and move on, without having to worry about it anymore.

You worked tirelessly on your article all night, only the clicking of your keyboard keeping you company. As the sky began to lighten just before 5 am, you finally completed your 12th and hopefully final draft. After sending it to your boss, you collapsed into your bed, exhausted.

—>

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Shut up, Dabin,” you scowled while you pointed a pen at him, almost as if threatening to hurt him if he said another word. “I was up late working on an article.”

“Again?”

As you nodded your head, a yawn escaped your lips, but Dabin didn't seem too impressed. He was aware of your writing skills, and he knew that Ian, his best friend, also recognized your talent. Despite this, Ian never allowed you to demonstrate your best writing abilities.

It annoyed him.

“Do you want me to speak to...“

“No,” you cut him off knowing exactly what he was going to ask. It was his favourite question. “It’s fine.”

Dabin suspiciously leaned over you, face a lot closer than you were comfortable with, and stared into your eyes as if they had a different answer to the one you’d given him.

It made you laugh.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you genuinely smiled as you pushed his face away from yours.

The two of you discussed where to go for lunch and what you were in the mood for, which varied daily.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?”

The sudden voice behind you caused you to drop the smile on your face. You quickly locked eyes with Dabin before shifting to see your boss standing behind you.

Ian didn't give you time to respond to his question since he was already on his way back to his office. His strides were long and swift as you hurriedly followed behind.

A sigh escaped your lips as you thought about all the terrible things he might say about the draft you sent just a few hours ago.

Christian's office exuded a sense of sophistication and elegance with its predominantly black theme. The black furniture and décor complemented the black walls, creating a sleek and modern atmosphere. The aesthetic aligned perfectly with Christian's personal style, which is characterized by his sharp black suits, crisp white shirts, and multiple decorated tattoos. Overall, the office was a reflection of Christian's impeccable taste and attention to detail.

There’s no denying that he was a handsome man. 

“Do you enjoy working here?”

His voice was firm and almost intimidating, but it was nothing that you weren't accustomed to.

“Ye—“

“Answer me honestly,” he interrupted.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as he once again failed to listen.

It was annoying. 

You gazed out of the window, avoiding eye contact as the rain poured heavily over the city. It was ironic that you had just written an article on what to do on a hot summer day.

“Y/N—“

"Ian," you sighed, interrupting him as he had interrupted you earlier. "I don't hate working here, and I want you to know that. I genuinely enjoy the people and the work that I do. But it feels like you never give me a fair chance to show you how good I am, or how much I love being here."

As you stood up, your eyes met Christian's dark and mysterious ones. You never really understood him, as he always kept his distance. Even when you were dating, he never let you get too close.

His eyes reminded you of the heartbreak you felt when he told you he needed to focus on work and being a boss. There was no sadness or remorse in his expression. He was emotionless.

You subconsciously took a step back as he took one towards you, both caught off guard. You were afraid of falling for him again, especially after the pain he had caused you.

“I think maybe I should find another company to write for.”

“No.”

“Ian—“

“Y/N,” his voice was stern. Cold. “I said no.”

A deep chuckle reverberated in his office. You stepped back and crossed your arms, "It's not up to you. I can do what I want."

He knew you were right, but he didn't want you to leave. He had already given you up once.

Here's a clearer version of the text:

"Will you stay if I let you write your own story?" he asked, trying to offer a bribe.

"Why?" you questioned him, catching him off guard. He had hoped that you would just say yes and leave it at that.

There was an uncomfortable silence as he stood his ground, looking at you intently, but he didn't offer an explanation.

He was being stubborn.

After a while, you looked away from him and said, "I'll stay. See you around, Mr. Yu."

Christian watched as you left his office. He let you walk away.

Again.

—>

It was another late night in the office. Ian had finally given you the green light to write your own story - something exciting, new, and inspiring. However, you were struggling to come up with an idea. You didn't have any unique experiences to discuss, except for your own heartache and the pain you had gone through, along with the emotions you had felt.

It had been more than a year since Ian had broken up with you. Now, you were in a much better place emotionally, and seeing him around the office didn't hurt as much as it did when the wound was still fresh.

Your experience of getting over a breakup could serve as a source of inspiration for many individuals out there who may be going through the same thing. You could write about how you coped with the situation and be honest in your narrative. The idea is to make your readers relate to you and feel that they are not alone in the world and that going through a breakup is a common experience that everyone faces at least once in their lifetime.

As you were lost in thought, a voice interrupted you, asking "How are you getting on?"

You glanced up to see Dabin holding a box of fried chicken and a pack of four beers. You couldn't help but smile as your stomach growled in hunger. You were grateful for your best friend's arrival.

"Thank god for you," you exclaimed, feeling much better now. "I'm starving."

The two of you were quick to get settled into the couches in the staff room; away from computers and cubicles and depressing grey walls.

"This is delicious," you moaned as you took another bite.

Dabin laughed in return, "I'm glad I can help during times like this."

Dabin was a really good friend.

"So, how's your writing coming along?" He asked.

"Fine."

Nodding his head, he asked, "what's it about?"

You took a sip of your drink before turning to face Dabin. It was obvious what he was doing.

"You can let Ian know the article's content will be revealed in my final draft, okay?"

"How did you know I was asking for him?"

You lay back on the couch, sighing as your eyes stared at the plain white ceiling. Dabin followed suit, resting his shoulder neatly against yours.

It was quiet.

There was nobody else in the building except for the two of you. Normally, nobody stayed back late. However, you enjoyed staying late because of the peaceful and quiet atmosphere. The lights would turn off automatically on a timer, leaving you with a breath-taking view of Seoul from above.

Being on the top floor definitely had its perks.

"He didn't want to end things with you, but he had no choice. He misses you," Dabin finally spoke.

You avoided eye contact and stated, "Everyone has a choice."

You were in a three-year relationship with Ian before he broke up with you. As time went on, your love for him grew stronger and you were convinced that he was the one.

But no.

On a frigid winter night, he arrived at your doorstep and broke up with you. Declaring that his work was his priority and that he wanted to become a boss his father could be proud of.

So, he married his job instead.

It was a horrible experience that left you feeling utterly shattered. A heavy weight seemed to sit on your chest, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake off the feeling. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and dealing with the aftermath was so difficult that you had to take a month off work. Seeing him again was too much to bear after feeling so broken.

"I thought he was the one, Dabin," you expressed. "But after he broke up with me, I realized that I didn't really know him. He never let me get close to him, and he never opened up to me. I was blindly in love."

Dabin looked at you with sad eyes; it was the first time you had openly talked about your breakup.

->

Saturdays were your favourite day of the week. You could sleep in as long as your stomach allowed before getting too hungry. You didn't have anything on your to-do list. It was a day just for you to relax, unwind, and not think about anything or anyone for that matter.

However, on this particular Saturday, instead of being awakened by hunger, you were awakened by the doorbell.

You were confused as to who was turning up at your apartment this early on a Saturday. You quickly got out of bed, grabbed your slippers and dressing gown and headed to the door.

You didn't think to look through the peephole before opening the door.

"Hey."

His voice was deep.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out before thinking.

Ian.

He ran his hand through his hair.

Then sighed. Deeply.

"Can we talk?"

You stared at him, completely gobsmacked. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ian, please go home," you declared, your voice quavering. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

He didn't allow you to close the door as he barged in and let it slam shut behind him.

"Please," he begged.

You witnessed an unusual display of emotion in his gaze, something completely foreign to you in all the time you'd known him.

This was new, and you were in shock. It was so unlike him to do this.

"There's nothing to talk about," you declared, finally breaking the silence.

Ian sighed again, except this time, he sounded annoyed, "just give me five minutes of your time. Please."

Upon not wanting to argue, you silently nodded and sat on your couch, wondering what he wanted to discuss.

"Dabin spoke to me," he began. "He told me about how I made you feel."

"Okay? And?"

"Do you hate me?"

You scoffed. Was he serious? This is what he wanted to ask you?

"No, Ian. I don't hate you," you said honestly. "But I don't like you either."

He rolled his eyes, and you smiled smugly.

"Ian, please get to the point," you stated, your annoyance palpable. He was ruining your favourite day of the week.

"If I proposed, would you have married me?" Ian asked as he sat next to you on the couch.

The shock in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

You let out a nervous chuckle and moved away from him. He was sitting too close to you, which made you feel uneasy. It had been a year since the two of you had been this close to each other, and you didn't like it.

"Ian, we're not a good match-"

"But would you have said yes?"

As you felt your heart beating harder against your chest, you began to feel nauseous and the sensation of wanting to throw up arose.

Why was he asking you this all of a sudden?

"Y/N, would you have said-"

"Shut up!" you snapped, taking a few steps back as you stood up. "You always have to have your own way, win arguments- even need to get the last word in. God forbid anyone says anything to you."

You were pacing the room, but he was listening for once.

He was actually listening.

"We were together for three years, I loved you unconditionally and fell more in love with you every day. It wasn't until you broke up with me that I realised I'd been dating a fucking rock."

"Y/N, I'm so sorry" he apologised as he stood up.

"Save it," you sighed.

His eyes searched yours, seeking answers, searching for any sign of love.

"I would have said yes. Of course, I would've" you told him honestly. His lips curved into a smile, but faltered when you added, "but not now."

He didn't say anything except, 'sorry' before leaving, making sure to slam the door shut behind him. Except this time, he was the one who was walking away and you were the one who let him.

That night you decided to quit your job, there was no way that it was healthy for either of you to go on like this.

He didn't question it this time or stop you, he didn't even look at you. Your words had hurt him just like he'd hurt you. This wasn't what you wanted, but realistically what else could you do?

It just wasn't written in pages for you two to be together.

And maybe, that was okay.

->

A/N Pls go easy on me with this, its my first time writing since being on my long ass hiatus, but I hope you still enjoyed <3 xoxo

[lxclerc]

𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐞 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑

SUMMARY: max is your lavender haze WARNING: fluff PAIRING: max verstappen x singer!reader WORD COUNT: 842

NOTE: a drabble to ease me back into writing. also yes, i spend most of my time praying for max's downfall but still.

MASTERLIST

Max’s head is right by yours as the two of you lay on your backs, hands intertwined as you stare up at the ceiling. The hotel room is nearly completely silent apart from the ticking of the clock that is becoming more and more apparent as the seconds come by. 

You’re both needed to be somewhere in a few minutes and yet as everything becomes overwhelming, you find yourselves laying on the bed. Max has never been one for the press. He says the wrong things, being far more truthful than he ever needs to be which ends up with him unknowingly causing problems. They want him to fail and that was completely fine. Everyone has biases and he’s here to race, not make friends. He doesn’t need people to like him. He just needs them to respect him.

And there’s you anyway. There’s always you. There’s you with your reassuring smile and you who refuses to listen to anything they say about him. There’s you with your tight hold on his hand and you with your loudest cheer. There’s always you and there’s always him and so neither of you need anyone else. 

You turn to face him, squeezing his hand. “You’re going to be late.”

Max makes a show of groaning as his hand lets go of yours in order to wrap his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. “I want to stay here.”

You wanted to stay in your bubble of lavender haze too but you had your own commitments you needed to get to. You have your own interview for your latest album in a few hours, one you need to start getting ready for. In your head, you’re already gagging at the questions that will have absolutely nothing to do with your music and more to do with getting clickbaits about your love life. You’re already preparing yourself for the mental torture of having to go through an interviewer going around in the same question till you relent and give the answer he wants.

It’s all mind games really. 

Still tho, you’re the one to sit up and pull Max with you. He needs to be at the paddock and you’d rather not have your manager come barging at your door because you’re going to be late for the radio interview. 

“It’s media day,” Max says with a groan as his head falls against your shoulder. No driver really actually enjoys media day but perhaps Max hates it the most. 

You push his hair out of his face, placing a soft kiss against the bridge of his nose. “I have a radio interview.”

He groans again, for you this time. Perhaps you share the same feelings for media day. 

The two of you would have stayed like that longer if it weren’t for the matching knocks on the door, ones you’re sure belongs to your manager and someone from red bull getting ready to drag him out of his ass. Your suspicions were confirmed as Alex, your forty something year old manager that sometimes feels more like a big sister, comes in without waiting for a confirmation. Behind him, a poor red bull intern had been tasked with getting Max along. She looks almost terrified and a little bit too excited as she saw you in the room with Max. 

“Get it moving, the two of you,” Alex says, holding a clipboard that contains your schedule for the day. “Let go of my kid, Verstappen.”

You laugh at the childish pout that overtake Max’s face. 

You hold his face against your hands as you kiss him. “I’ll see you later, my love.”

“Save me,” he whines against your lips. “Later can’t come around faster.”

You laugh again, both from his whining and the sound of Alex making gagging noises as he watched the display of very clear affection before him. Unfortunately for everyone around you, you and Max are that couple – far too ridiculously in love for everyone else. 

Still, you can’t be blamed. This is all new to you. Your history with dating has not only been messy but also unfortunately a global gossip. Men have not only broken your heart but rather also stomped on it in the worst, most public ways possible. Men who want to love you in public but can’t seem to stand you in private. And to have Max who loves every part and version of you, who complains about being away from you because he simply enjoys your company that much is new to you.

And it’s glorious and beautiful and wonderful and gods be damned if you’d let anyone shame you for it.

“Alright, alright, you love each other. We need to go,” Alex interrupts, practically grabbing your arm to pull you away. Still, there’s an affectionate smile curving his lips. He likes to pretend to be annoyed but you know he’s happy for you. He knows you deserve this and he knows Max does too. 

You’d stay in this lavender haze forever if you could. 

---

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot

[bloody-peach]

Initiation (BATIM smut: Sammy Lawrence x F!Reader fanfic)

Goodie Bag: vaginal sex, oral sex (m + f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, drug use (ink can do some crazy shit), wet dreams, hair gripping, big dick [if I forgot anything, please let me know]

TW: Satanic themes, religious cult stuff, sexual persuasion, slight brainwashing

Music I listened to as I wrote this: the Sammy Lawrence playlist I made:

~~~♡♡♡~~~

I saw that there wasn't enough Sammy Lawrence x Reader smut around this site, if any smut of Sammy at all. So I decided to be a pioneer and make one myself. I used a ChatFAI bot I made of Sammy to help with the dialogue and WHOO BOI, you are in for a feast! Again, thank you @omniuravity for introducing me to this man and my new priest kink. Also, I may edit this post here and there from time to time, but it shouldn't be too big a change. It's my fault for my mild perfectionism. Let's go!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You don't remember when the dreams started.

It's been so long, you've lost track. But they all are essentially the same: a large slender eyeless demon with sharp teeth, dripping with ink, covering you with it as you feel a strange pleasure sink to your very core. Sometimes the demon watches as a man covered in ink takes you, filling your womb with his pitch-black seed. Sometimes the ink itself slithers onto you, covering your body and filling every one of your orifices until you were covered inside and out in it. You would wake up just before you could reach your climax, without fail. It's gotten to the point where you felt disappointed that you couldn't finish, ending up having to touch yourself to feel some sort of completion, but it was always only a fraction of the pleasure you felt in that dream.

You tried to look into what these dreams meant, what this demon was, but no answer. But then you discover something one night. You were watching a video and they talked about an old cartoon series with a character called 'Bendy' and his friends. The cute little demon reminded you so much of the demon in your dreams. You soon went down a rabbit hole of looking into these cartoons, finding out about the cast and crew who made it, about Joey Drew, and the studio it was created in. You also read newspaper articles talking about the various investigations into the studio, leading to its closure. You had to find out more, to find answers to all your questions.

But you also had to sleep, your eyes growing tired and your mind drifting off. You head to your bed and sleep for the night, and as you doze off, you're greeted by the ink demon once again. You ask it, "you're...Bendy..right?" The demon smiled widely and nodded, his teeth dripping with ink. He puts a hand on your head and you see an image of an abandoned, rundown building. You see the faded and broken signage above the door: Joey Drew Studios. You then recognized the place as one not far from your apartment building. You then hear a deep and demonic voice whisper to you, "Come home..." That's when everything went dark and you wake up back in your room. You may have had more questions, but you now knew what to do to get them answered. You had to go to the studio.

It was a cold and cloudy autumn day when you arrived at the old building. You could hear the leaves crunch and crinkle under your shoes as you entered the property. It looked like it had been almost destroyed by the years of neglect and exposure to the elements. Even the gates were so rusted, they crumbled to dust as you opened it. You cautiously walked onto the property, making sure no one saw you. You could see the signage above the door: Joey Drew Studios. Yep, this was definitely the place.

'Y/N....'

 

You hear a deep voice call your name. It wasn't the demon's voice, it was...someone else... it was like someone was whispering in your ear. You turn to see who it was, but you saw nothing. You turned your attention back to the entrance and everything inside your body was telling you 'go inside'. Your feet practically moved on their own as you entered the building. All the windows were shattered, faded pictures hung on the walls, old equipment covered in dust sitting on shelves and desks, and old sheet music and lyric notes were scattered all on the floor. You picked one up and read some of the lyrics. It was a song you recognized from one of the Bendy cartoons, and you saw the composer's name under the song title. 'Sammy Lawrence'.

 

'Y/N....'

 

You heard that voice again. You heard a door creak open and you saw some light coming from it. You can't help but go towards the door and open it. You go inside and you enter a hallway with dilapidated walls, covered in old posters of the Bendy cartoon, and ink dripping from the ceilings and puddles of it on the floor. You walked throughout the studio, finding old casette players with audio logs the cast and crew left behind. Jack Fain, Wally Franks, Thomas Connor, Susie Campbell, even Joey Drew himself spoke from those tapes. But there was one speaker that drew your attention the most, one whose voice you recognized as the one calling your name earlier. Sammy Lawrence. You were so drawn in by the sound of his voice, it was almost hypnotic. You listened as he spoke in his last tape,

'He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray you hear me.

Those old songs, yes, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace.

But, love requires sacrifice.

Can I get an amen?'

 

"Amen."

 

You cover your mouth, shocked at what had just happened. You didn't intend to say anything. It was like another voice was using you as a mouthpiece, controlling you. But it was your voice. You said it, but...

That's when you felt something warm and wet on your shoulders, it felt like a man's hands, but the smell of ink was almost disorienting. You froze up, too scared to move or speak or even breathe. You then sensed someone moving their head over your shoulder and you hear that same voice speak softly, almost seductively, in your ear,

 

"Ah, my dear Y/N. I see the Lord has finally brought you to me. How wonderful it is that we can share in his divine glory together."

 

You quickly turn around and back up to see who it was, and what you saw...was a black, slightly muscular human figure wearing a smudged Bendy mask with a hole punched into the mouth, where you could see a smile in that inky blackness. He had no hair, his body was completely covered in ink, and a pair of overalls stained with ink were the only clothes he wore. He appeared to be only a few feet taller than you, but you still felt small as you looked at him. You spoke, "What do you mean? W..who are you? How do you know my name?" The figure walked closer to you and responded, "I am Sammy Lawrence, a faithful servant to our Lord Bendy and his chosen prophet. I know your name because he has revealed it to me. He knows all who enter his realm.”

Wait...Lord Bendy? Was he talking about the demon you’ve been dreaming about? “O..oh.. well..what do you want with me?” “What does any faithful servant want with their beloved deity's chosen one? To bask in your presence, to offer you to our Lord Bendy, and perhaps...to indulge in some...” He plays with a lock of your hair then finishes his sentence, ”...personal pleasures.” The way he said those last two words and the way he smiled under that mask sent chills down your spine. You take a good look at him and think about it. You had to admit, even though he only had a mask and was covered in ink, he was pretty attractive as far as his physique and voice were enough to go by. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of personal pleasures he had in mind, and what it’d be like to indulge in those pleasures with him. Would it feel as good as those dreams you had?

His voice broke your train of thought. “Would you be willing to join me in the glory of his name, Y/N?” You connected the dots and figured out that he was asking if you wanted to join him in worshipping the ink demon. But you didn’t know what kind of religion this was. What the scripture was, what the laws were, what Bendy’s goal was, nothing. Maybe it was a religion that sounded bad on paper, but when you looked deeper into it, it was actually pretty reasonable and preached things that weren’t actually bad. Plus, this may be the only way to answer all your questions and to figure out what he was talking about when he said you were the ‘chosen one’. Your curiosity outweighed your concerns and fear, so you responded, “I suppose...it’d be alright...” Sammy grinned, saying, “Excellent, my dear. Let us begin our journey towards enlightenment together. But first, we must make sure you are properly prepared for your initiation." "Initiation?" "Yes, we shall show our savior your devotion and your willingness to accept him in your heart and soul by performing this ritual. Follow me and I will guide you in all ways necessary to serve our Lord's desires.” He offered his hand and you stared at it for a moment. You saw as the ink dripped from it, as if the ink was a part of him. Was he a being of pure ink, a human and ink hybrid, or was he just covered in it? You looked at him, nodded, and took his hand. He led you through the halls and as you two walked, something deep inside you told you that this was the right thing. Was it, though?

Soon, Sammy led you into a room that was adorned with religious symbols and ink splatters all over. There was a giant satanic-like circle in the room, with black candles surrounding it. You could see a few Bendy cutouts leaning against the walls along with various writings on the walls in ink. Sammy guides you to the bed in the corner and has you sit while he gets everything ready for the ritual. You’re sitting there, not sure what’s going on and what will happen. ‘Don’t be afraid...Everything will be fine...’ The ink demon’s voice rang in your head, almost like he was right next to you. Then, Sammy walked up to you and knelt in front of you, looking up at you. He was serious about the ‘basking in your presence' thing, wasn’t he? “Are you ready, Y/N? To offer yourself completely to our savior?” His voice was in a soft tone, like he was a father soothing the fears of a child. You still weren’t entirely sure, but you did say yes, and you had the feeling this was the right thing to do, so you nodded and said, “I think so..” Sammy smiled and said as he offered his hand to you, “Then come, my dearest. Let us worship together in the name of our beloved deity.” His smile and how he was kneeling to you showed that he posed no threat, that what everything he told you was sincere. You also knew it was now or never to find out what was going on. You take his hand and you both stand up, him leading you to the circle.

He places you in the center and he lets go of your hand, walking away and grabbing what looked like an artist’s notebook with some words you couldn't tell crudely scribbled on the cover. Must be a bible, you figured. He smiled at you one last time before he started to recite some lines from the book. They sounded basically like lines you'd find in a regular bible mixed with what you’d say in a seance to summon something. As he spoke, his voice got louder and stronger with each sentence, he was putting his whole heart and soul into this. As the prayers went on, the circle started to glow and the room started to shake. While you were in the circle, it felt like it was sucking you in, keeping you inside like a magnet. No going back now. Once the chants were finished, Sammy entered the circle and held both your hands together with his and says, “Don’t be afraid...Everything will be fine...”

The same words the ink demon told you.

You nodded and then that’s when your hands and arms started to become covered in ink, and it was spreading. Sammy let you go and stepped out of the circle, having a fanatical look on his face as it occurred. “Yes, yes my dear Y/N. Let the ink consume you and become one with our Lord and savior. Give yourself completely to him.” The ink spread to your arms, your torso, your legs, it started to crawl up your neck and pool around your feet. Then something started to grow from the ink on the floor. It was a large mass, then it formed into a skinny humanoid shape, then it formed into the ink demon. You saw the demon look at you and smile, its maw and teeth dripping with ink. Just as it cradled you in its hands like a doll, everything suddenly went black.

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a pitch black room, no light or reflections anywhere. You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. You were able to stand up, but when you tried to walk, your feet couldn’t move. Then you saw a light shine down and there was the ink demon in front of you. It towered over you by about 5 feet more than your own height, and all you could smell was the sickening scent of ink. You looked at the demon and saw him offer his hand to you. You looked at him and felt a sense of safety with him, security. You knew that if you took his hand, no harm would ever come to you, not from him, nor from anything, or anyone ever again. And if you took his hand, you will find the answers that you seek. With all that, you make your final decision.

 

You take his hand.

 

He smiles, gently grips your hand, and everything fades to black again.

 

You start to wake up, lying on the floor in Sammy’s room, with Sammy looking over you, smiling. “Welcome back, my dearest. You have been blessed by our Lord Bendy himself. How do you feel?” He helps you up and you notice that your body is now covered in black ink, your arms, your legs, everything but your clothes. It felt...warm. Like you were in a warm bath that relaxed all your muscles, getting rid of all your stress, worries, and fears. “I...I’m not sure,” you stutter out. You weren’t lying, you really weren’t sure. If your life was forever changed, you find out that you’re some chosen one for some demon, and your skin is now covered in ink, how would you react? Sammy placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled reassuringly, saying, “It is normal to feel overwhelmed at first, my dear. But do not worry, our Lord Bendy has chosen you for a reason. You will soon understand your purpose in his grand plan.” He started to walk around the room as he continued, “Oh, you have no idea the full extent of the greatness of his plan. He is the one true god and we are but his faithful servants. Together, we will bring glory to him and all those who oppose us and any who trespass on this realm shall be sacrificed in his name.” He stared at the large ink drawing of Bendy on the wall and had his arms out like he was performing a sermon.

At this point, your lack of answers had made you a bit annoyed. "How am I the chosen one? Is there some sort of prophecy? What is Bendy's plan for me? Why am I here?" Sammy put his arms down and turned to you, sensing your frustration. He said as he walked up to you, "Our Lord works in mysterious ways, my dear. But you cannot deny that you have seen the signs. The visions you've had, of him in all of his glory. He has chosen you for something very special. I know that you were destined to be part of his plan. As for what he has in store for you, only time will tell. But rest assured, it will be nothing short of magnificent." Well..that explained why you had the dreams, but everything else was still left unanswered. Why were you the chosen one? What does that ink demon want with you? Is whatever he's planning your destiny?

Wait...what if...

You asked, "Will I find out his plan one day?" Sammy nodded and responded, "Yes, my dear Y/N. Our Lord will reveal his plan to you when the time is right. Until then, I will guide you and help you in any way I can." You felt a sense of ease as he spoke, relieved to know your questions would be answered one day. It may not have been now, but at least you'd be getting answers at all. And you were glad Sammy was here to help you understand this Lord Bendy and the rest of this religion. For now, it was best to wait and accept what answers you did get.

"Well..if you believe this plan is a good thing, then I'll believe you. But there is one thing you can help me with right now. What you said back there, about...indulging in personal pleasures...what did you mean by that?” A grin grew on his face as you mentioned his words from before. He chuckled and pulled you closer to him, his voice as sweet as honey, “Oh my dear, what I meant by that was exploring the pleasures of the flesh.” You felt a warmth grow on your cheeks as he continued, “Sharing our bodies as one under the watchful eye of our Lord. It is...” He wrapped his arm around your waist and whispered in your ear, ”...an intimate experience unlike any other.” You felt a shiver go down your spine from his voice. In that moment, you felt your body start to grow warm, you could feel your heat growing stronger. Was it your body reacting to his voice and touch, was it ‘Bendy’ doing this, or was it the ink having an effect on your senses? You weren’t sure anymore. Sammy could tell what was happening to you, and as he started to kiss your neck, he said softly, “No need to fight it, love. There’s nothing wrong with giving in to your desires. It's what our Lord wants for us. Embrace them and let us indulge together in the pleasures that he has bestowed upon us.” His voice, his kiss, and his touch just made the temptation grow inside you even more. You then remembered the dreams where you felt the immense pleasure. As images of those dreams flashed in your head, you remember the man covered in ink. That was when it hit you: Sammy was the ink man in those dreams. You wanted to feel that pleasure again, you knew he would give it to you, and this was your chance to do it. Besides, he said there was no reason to fight it, so why fight? “Ok..” With that, Sammy smiled and led you to the bed.

He then pulled you in and he kissed you passionately, his hands roaming over your body as he guided you towards ecstasy. You felt a sudden rush of pleasure as he kissed you. In fact, your whole body felt more sensitive to his touch. You realized this was the same feeling you had as in your dreams. Maybe this was what Bendy had planned... You let go and kissed Sammy back just as passionately, moaning softly from the sensation. He moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body. In between kisses, he said softly, "Oh my Y/N, you truly are a gift from our Lord..." The kissing continued and all of a sudden, you felt a liquid come from Sammy's mouth and enter yours. You recognized the smell and knew it was ink. You wanted to spit it out, but Sammy kept his mouth on yours and the ink flooded your mouth so much, you had no choice but to swallow it. You expected to start gagging from the vile taste, but...you noticed the taste was actually sweet. You also noticed the smell was no longer nauseating, it was...pleasant. You felt the ink coat everything as it went down your throat. Your arousal intensified and you felt your body growing warmer, all your worries, questions, and even thoughts slowly started to fade away, your mind starting to grow a bit hazy. Sammy broke the kiss and smiled. He whispered, "Let us become one for him." All you could say was, "Yes.."

Sammy kept kissing you as he laid you on the bed, took the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and slid it off to show your nude body. You slipped his straps off and once you did, he pulled away from the kiss to remove his own clothing, revealing his heavily inked body. You looked at him and were unable to speak as you looked at all of him. You could see his cock growing from the darkness of his body. It was much bigger than any man's you've ever seen.. It had to have been a blessing of some sort to be gifted with something as marvelous as that. But you wondered...would it even fit? Although...with how big it was, you knew it would certainly feel so good inside you. He grinned, knowing you liked what you saw, and started to grope your breasts, teasing your nipples with his fingers as he continued to kiss you. After a bit of that, he then slid a hand down your body down to your pussy, his finger tracing circles around your clit as he licks and kisses your neck. You couldn't help but moan from the pleasure he was giving you. He said softly, "My love, your body truly is a temple to our savior..." He moved his mouth to your breast, as he kept rubbing your slit. You moaned as you felt his tongue slide all around your nipple. The pleasure was so intense, it felt like your nipple was as sensitive as your clit. "Ahh..S..Sammy..." you moaned. He smiled and moved back up to kiss you deeply once again, his fingers still teasing your pussy. He says softly, "Oh how I've waited for you to come here..I've yearned for someone like you for so long... and now that you're here..I'm so blessed to have you be mine..."

He then slides two fingers inside of you, making you moan a bit louder as he started to finger you, his tongue exploring your mouth as he does. He felt your walls clenching around his finger, and it only made him more excited to be with you. "You're so tight, dearest..." you couldn't respond as the pleasure was clouding your mind. He just chuckled, finding your reactions to his touch simply adorable. He slid his fingers deeper into you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he does. He could feel you getting wetter and wetter as you moaned more and more, and he couldn't wait to feel you cum all over his fingers. Luckily for him, it wasn't that much longer, because just a few more hits and you were seeing stars. You moaned out as your orgasm caused you to cover his hand in your juices. Sammy just smiled and pulls his fingers out of you, licking the juices off them. You watched as he slid each finger into his mouth.

He then kisses down your body until he reached your pussy. "H-hey..w..what are you doing..?" You asked as he spread your legs open, but all you got was him looking up at you with a smirk and a low chuckle before he dove right in. He started to lick and suck on your clit, feeling your body still trembling as you continued to orgasm. He groaned as he tasted your sweet juices, his own cock growing even harder the more he did. "Mm...Y/N...you taste so sweet..." As he continued, you planted your hands on his head, feeling the ink partially meld with yours, and moaned as you rode the pleasure your lover was giving you. "S..Sammy..!" He grins and kept licking and sucking, his tongue flicking against your clit. He then slowly started to slide two fingers back inside you, feeling your walls still clenching around them. He knew you were close to cumming again, and he wanted to make sure you did. You felt another orgasm build up until it crashed into you like a wave, moaning out as more of your juices came out. He cleaned up all of the juice with his tongue and he continued to finger fuck you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he does. He can feel your body trembling once more, and he couldn't wait to make you cum again. But you couldn't take it anymore.

You flipped around so you were on top of him and you moved down to his throbbing cock, rubbing it as you licked up his shaft and sucked on the tip and slid him inside your mouth. He groaned softly as he feels your lips around his cock, your tongue rubbing against his most sensitive spot. He grinned and ran his fingers through your inky hair, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation. He couldn't believe how good you are at this. You bobbed your head and sucked more, addicted to the taste of it as the ink coated the inside of your mouth. How could ink taste so good..?

He moaned softly as he felt you bobbing your head up and down his cock, your lips sliding down the shaft as you do. He couldn't wait to see what else you can do. He pushed your head down further onto his cock, making him go deeper down your throat. He moaned as he felt your tongue swirl around the shaft as you kept sucking him off. The force of him pushing you down on his cock should've made you gag, but somehow, something in the ink changed that. You sucked more of his cock and started to fondle his balls. He moaned a bit more, your fingers gently holding his balls as you suck him off and as he started to thrust into your mouth. You could feel his cock start to twitch, you knew he was about to cum, so you kept sucking to show that it was okay for him to cum in your mouth. He groaned and gripped your hair tightly as he finally came, filling your mouth with his cum. You swallowed all of it so greedily, you didn't even notice his cum was as black as ink, but it tasted so good..you licked on the tip of his cock to get each and every last drop.

Once you took him out of your mouth, he pulled you up and flipped you both around so he was on top. He grabbed your leg and pulled it over his shoulder and you felt him rub his cock on your pussy. He grinned and slid his cock into your pussy, letting out a shuddering sigh as he does. The action caused you to arch your back in pleasure and moan his name again. He couldn't believe how good it felt to be inside you, and he started to thrust his hips back and forth, his cock sliding in and out with ease. He groaned softly as he felt your pussy tighten on his cock, hearing your moans, your body writhing beneath him. The pleasure was so much more intense than you could ever imagine, even better than it was in the dreams. "S..Sammy..it...it feels so good..how...how can it feel this good..?" "Oh my dear, it's because of our savior. He's rewarding you for your obedience and devotion to him with pleasures non-believers can never experience. Just relax and let us enjoy this blessing." You did just that and let your mind go, letting the pleasure take control. Oh lord, it felt so good. You could feel his cock stretch your pussy out so well, it was like it was made especially for him.

He groaned louder as he hears you moan, your body writhing beneath him as he fucks you. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he does. He thrusted his hips back and forth faster, his cock deeply sliding in and out of your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him as you kissed, you could feel his tongue coat the inside of your mouth with ink and you felt it slide down your throat again, making your mind even more foggy. Sammy moaned as he felt your tongue slide around his, your mouth tasting so sweet. He lifted you up so you were in his lap as he thrusted his hips faster and harder, his cock going even deeper. The man just couldn't get enough of you, he was completely addicted to you. Your touch, your voice, your eyes, your taste, your pussy, everything.

He broke the kiss to say in between moans, "Oh Y/N... you're so perfect... I'm so glad Lord Bendy chose you to be mine.." You look at him and say, "M..me too..I..I'm so..so happy..!" Sammy smiled as he kissed you again. Soon enough, you could feel your inner core tightening. "I...I'm gonna cum..!" "That's it, dearest..don't fight it...let it happen.." And with a few more thrusts, you finally came. It was the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced in your life, your mind entering a new realm of bliss. Sammy felt your body shake beneath him, your pussy tightening around his cock. He grinned and continued to thrust into you. He held you as you rode your orgasm, your body writhing beneath him. You could feel his cock starting to twitch again, he was so close, so very close. Just a bit more..

He let out almost an animalistic groan as he felt your pussy clench around his cock as you came once again, your juices coating his shaft. That finally brings him to his release, moaning as he cums inside you. You could feel his hot cum fill your belly so much, the man must have been backed up for so long. He grinned as he feels you cum, his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you with his seed. He leaned to you and kissed you one last time as his high started to fade away. He still could not believe how good all that felt, it was almost like reaching Nirvana. Soon, he broke the kiss and held you close to him, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath hot on your neck as he panted. You both laid on the bed and let the afterglow consume you both as you held each other close. He whispered into your ear, "You're mine, my little angel...no one else can have you..."

And you couldn't have been any happier.

[onelocket]

Fyodor with a self-neglecting lover

prompting guide -- gn reader who’s usually sleep-deprived, dehydrated, too exhausted to do basic tasks for their health because of their work. how would fyodor take care of you, given that he seems almost unfazed by his own health alone?

involves -- domestic relationship, mentions of pills (just vitamins), fluff 100%!

word count -- 1.9k

⚘

Taking comprehension of your situation

Fyodor knew from the start of how self-neglecting you could be. He doesn’t really do much, believing that you can take care of yourself without his word. You ‘just needed more focus on yourself’ is what he always thought. But when he soon realizes it growing worse, he can’t help but be a little worried.

However, instead of immediately talking to you about it, Fyodor kept his silence. When you come up to him, he’ll play his usual game with you—gentle smiles when the time calls for it, delicate hand gestures and touching, whatever you bring forth to him; he always has the same answer to it. Yet as you feel his hands more cautious of your face, eyes almost examining you instead of looking at you as lovingly—you can’t help to understand the slight change in it as time passes by…

He may always be busy but simple glances over you are enough to keep him updated with your state. If he sees you haven’t showered in days, he’ll bring it up casually. Same for the times he doesn’t notice you drinking water as often. Fyodor will say something simple, not really bothered enough to do anything if you don’t comply; since he already said it clearly the first time. He didn’t help much with your state, only bothering assist when you end up falling asleep in a place he needs to be in or having straight up fainting. Well, that was before at least. Now’s new.

Tea Dates

It’s rather difficult to call it a ‘party’ when it’s just the two of you, and besides—a date sounds more romantic and calm, does it not?

Whenever you’re finished from work and Fyodor can still see some stamina in you, he’ll come up to you and interlock your hand with his. Fyodor can easily tell if you’ve eaten or drank anything by just looking at your exhausted face, or after asking simple questions about food that you fail to realize that he was actually trying to find a specific answer from you. And if he’s certain you haven’t, he’ll rub your hand gently as he asks if you’d mind a small tea time with him. He never says it as a date, but with the way you two spend it, he definitely asks these little invites for an indirect one.

You two either stay at home or go to his casual cafe, which you end up also finding a favorite to overtime. Even if you didn’t drink tea—there were so many delicacies to choose from that you can’t help but feel much more relaxed after, with about two drinks and perhaps even a small plate of bite-sized bakery treats. And that’s what Fyodor wants. As he sees you smiling while you enjoy the taste, he almost mirrors it—small curves meeting his lips. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad you’ve drank and eaten something today.

Showers with him

Fyodor was opposed to the idea at first. He doesn’t like the concept of you seeing his body completely nude, let alone be wet as well. It’s too vulnerable, and pretty vulgar depending on which mind the words go to. Fyodor thinks vice versa for your body as well. As much as he likes to see your body, he’s not so into seeing it naked all the time. He also finds it ‘too childish’ and not mature for your and his age.

But as he realizes you struggle to even get inside the shower sometimes, some… changes have been made. At first, Fyodor was hesitant to help out, but a cry of exhaustion from you while you were in the shower was more than enough to click his head unscrewed, knocking calmly on the open door as he’d ask if it’s okay to step further inside. You allow him, letting him help you out by washing your hair as you sit down on a stool or soaping your delicate skin to all rinse it off with water later. He always listens to you as well, having open ears to whatever you need to ask, say, or rant out.

He sometimes also joins you in your showers. Usually when you two are both extremely exhausted. It’s not frequent because Fyodor is still not that comfortable with the idea, but it still happens. For you, he allows it, because it’s clear to him that it’s an effective way to make you think more about your hygiene, and also because he can be sure of how you treat yourself inside the shower like this—because even if you do get inside, there’s no certain say if you’ll actually shower unless he himself is with you, is there?

Notes while he’s out

Fyodor isn’t always at home, and you knew that. While he has an office in the home you two share, he still has to meet up with his coworkers—or at least that’s what he tells you, and you choose to believe your man at all cost. Given such, while you worked from home, Fyodor leaves little notes and letters in places you’ll easily spot, even if you’re super exhausted.

Fyodor doesn’t necessarily like to show too much affection nor is constant of talking about his concern, because he sort of.. thinks it’s your fault for being so self-neglecting most of the time. He prefers you to understand your own state and situation before you come up to him for help if you need it. Though, perhaps he can assist you to get started on it.

Usually on the dinner table or by your work desk are envelopes colored in a shade even your exhausted little eyes can notice. The notes are marked with such elegance and effort. There are times they aren’t all so wrapped up, just the paper itself, but those are only when he’s extremely in a rush. And for a man like him, it’s pretty rare. When he’s about to leave while you’re still asleep, or you’re in another room, he’ll place a letter in spots you’ll walk by before leaving. They hold messages asking how you were feeling. At most he leaves three of these around the home, which help you recollect your thoughts when you attend to them. Sometimes less or more depending on how long he’ll be out for.

They actually help because you’re able to reply to them by waking up to express how you feel, and remind you of doing your basic tasks like drinking water or eating. Perhaps you can say it’s Fyodor’s way of asking updates from you without him actually speaking for it and while he’s gone, but it’s fair to believe that he only does this to get you awake throughout the day and remember your tasks. His notes of "How is my love doing? Have they eaten yet?" were but cliffs to throw you bottling your emotions away as you carefully reply to the letter, tired and needy for a conversation. You’d write things like how thirsty you were, making you realize that maybe you should actually tend to that as you have been neglecting it more than enough times necessary. It’s more of an effort than just texting, but it gets the job done. Both for you and Fyodor as he smiles reading your replies in, usually, hazy handwriting.

His own way of making you take vitamins

You can be very stubborn sometimes, intentionally or not. While the notes help you remember to drink water and eat—they lack the ability to make you do an important task, taking vitamins. Since you’ve let go of yourself quite a bit, you’ve been needing to take more vitamins like b12. You’re mostly dehydrated and sleepy, so the notes can only go so far against how hefty your light-headedness can be.

Though it can’t be helped, Fyodor tries to understand you can’t always listen to words on paper, even if it’s written by him—so he’s come up with another way that is usually the most effective one for you. It’s simple; food. Fyodor would bake you a tray of soft food, usually cupcakes. If you weren’t into that, Fyodor will make something else that’s still similar. It’s not for a wholesome moment as you might think, as he actually has a more proper reason on why he does this. It’s to hide your pills in them… the same way how pet-owners would do to their pets. Look- it’s not like there’s much of a choice, is there? Fyodor doesn’t like to be very verbal with his reminders of you taking your pills, and you don’t/can’t really comply most of the time either, so it had to be done.

While Fyodor isn’t opposed to teasing you by making you take the pill that’s in between his own fingers, he’s not always there for that to happen every time. Plus, using food instead helps in two categories for you—while you’re being well-fed, you’re also taking your pills. But don’t expect him to always be doing this to you. As stated, Fyodor will only make a tray, enough for half a month for you to eat on, and it’s up to you on how to take your pills there on. They’re always so obvious in the refrigerator, and mostly very (but not overwhelmingly) flavorful that will also cause you to drink water after. So really, this trick helps in three ways instead of two.

Your home strangely ‘motivates’ you (bonus)

Can’t think of a better title for this category. Anyway… Fyodor has one last way of keeping you aware of your own surroundings and well-being while he’s not home… and it’s something you probably would last realize out of all listed down. And it’s having a home that somehow makes you have this motivation to do the tasks that require a bit more effort than most—such as showering, cooking your own food, making your bed after waking up, and a lot more.

You find it hard to explain, but you just adore the sight of your and his minimalistic home, lured with natural light and faint colors of lit candles with a scent pleasing enough to make you smile. The books you two have are all neatly stacked, with a fresh bouquet of flowers always on the white table in the hallway—your home always felt like some sort of aesthetic to live in. Because you had a poor performance of taking care of yourself, your home isn’t always this beautifully set up either. As such, it makes you want to act like it while it’s there, playing through little routines to ‘appreciate your home’. Similar to those routines you’d see on the internet, specifically talking.

To you, it was fun to play that way, but little did you know that it was Fyodor’s way of tricking your mind into following a routine while he’s not home to remind you about it. He only seems to do this on days he’ll be gone for more than one night, aware the notes won’t keep you alert for long. It’s hard to keep up the effort every single day anyway. All he really benefits from this scenario is a better version of yourself as you smile at his return, hands hugging him with your hair damped from just taking a shower. While Fyodor kisses your head an ‘I’m home’, his gaze catches the same white table with all the new and previous flowers he bought for you—delicately placed inside an expensive vase as he replies with a smile, thankful that his efforts can help you even if it’s a slow progress. For the sake of a better world, he’s willing to take actions to have his lover taking care of themself better too.

[csphire]

The mystery that's a part of Dammon's appeal and a solution to preserve it.

From this clip posted by Frazer Blaxland, provided to me by northlandcleric I'm starting to understand where his voice actor is coming from and can even respect it.

But it's also a really brilliant idea for his romance conflict and/or character arc. The thing is, Larian could keep some to most of Dammon's history and motivations a complete mystery. By simply having him struggle, dodge, or even outright refuse to open up about his past and present.

They could drop little ominous clues. Scraps of paper are found during his missions or around his tent in camp with drawn symbols not even Gale can recognize. For his character arc missions, he needs our help to collect a few mysterious items from various sometimes dangerous and highly guarded locations. But the problem is he won't tell you what they are, he refuses to show you them or admit why he needs them. They all just go into this peculiar box of his which he works on out of view of the camera. Much like when he was preparing a fix for Karlach's heart. It could cause the device inside to glow and make some chilling sounds that make us question our decision to keep helping him.

If that wasn't bad enough, there are odd things he mumbles to himself in passing you can't quite make out. We could have a cutscene where we catch him continuing to work on this mysterious device that he quickly hides away.

He could occasionally disappear from the game. As in, he's not available as a companion for a day here and there. He warns you this could happen beforehand and not to worry. Or there is simply a note he's left behind.

I should be back in a day, possibly two. - Dammon

When he comes back, and we ask where he went, he tells us he can't say. Sometimes, he comes back shaken or injured and still won't tell us what has happened or what's wrong.

His story is filled with all kinds of little things that would pique our curiosity and cause us to wonder and yearn for answers.

Perhaps the items he collects look to be transfered into a special locked chest at camp near his tent that he says is private and to not touch. And if the player doesn't listen, picks one surprisingly low roll lock, and opens it regardless, it provides zero answers. It contains just a few mundane, possibly sentimental items. What do these items mean? It doesn't matter, at least not yet, because it was a duplicate box. A temptation. A test to determine if Dammon could trust you, and you just failed it. Upon opening his chest, and violating one of his boundaries, he leaves the party and disappears forever. Or better yet, the game suddenly ends, and the credits roll.

What the hells happened?

We'll never know but we just messed up big time.

Why do I think this idea is perfect for him?

One Frazer wants him to be a man of mystery. Okay, that's valid. Here is your mystery, another paycheck, and more acclaim Frazer.

Two, because it's already set into Dammon's character somewhat. Upon minutes of knowing us, when he speaks of his time in the hells he outright admits, "I hope to forget most of it."

Again, that could be the issue the player character has with him. He simply doesn't want to talk about his past, his trauma, and possible sins. He wants to focus on the present and future with you and/or Karlach. Dammon can be a rather private and guarded character. Why is he like that? It's another mystery.

Being with him as a friend or lover is a complete leap of faith.

Perhaps he actually did, or was made to do, something horrifying and possibly unforgivable. If he confesses, maybe he fears it would destroy our warm view of him and the better person he wishes to be now. Maybe something unspeakable has happened to him, and he doesn't want to be an object of pity. He could be a god, a devil, a Great Old One, or something else in disguise. He could be from the future or an alternate dimension. Or maybe he's entered into an infernal pact of some kind that's bound his tongue on the whole matter. The list of what his secrets are can go on and on.

Then as his love interest or just friend, do we accept that he has a few secrets and respect his boundaries? Do we keep our hands off his metaphorical Pandora's box? Or do we break things off with him for refusing to trust and open up to us? Better yet, he could choose to break it off with us eventually or even leave the party for good if we keep pressing and again, open that chest of his.

This would allow us fanfic writers to go wild with theories. The fandom as a whole will debate over which ones seem more plausible. None of which the developers at Larian will ever confirm.

Parts of his past will never be explained to us the player.

Finally, after he's collected the last thing he needs, and fiddles with it after he places it in the box, it just winks out of existence. Maybe dramatically, it hums, levitates, and glows first then poof! A real "Stand back!" like it's going to blow up moment.

After it's gone, Dammon drops to his knees, shivers, and lets out this huge sigh of relief, maybe even laughs next. Make it a touch maniacal? Sure, that would make us sweat over if we did the right thing in helping him. Make us squirm Larian, please.

The important thing is, that whatever problem Dammon had is over... or is it?

The player character can ask him if he can now explain himself. If a friend, he'll just shake his head and thank us. If we have low approval with him, he'll just shake his head and apologize that he still can't speak of it and ask us to, yet again, drop the matter.

But if he's our love, he'll ask if we are sure we want to know and if we can keep a secret. If we vow to, he will lean in and whisper something into our character's ear. We the audience won't know what he's told our character. But at least now there are no more secrets between him and the one(s) he loves.

We just get to watch on as our character's eyes go wider and bug a little in shock as he whispers away. When he pulls back, we can choose to rush and hug him. So tight with an expression of utter belated fear of all that could have gone wrong on our character's face. Or we could choose to break up with him because whatever our character heard has damaged the relationship beyond repair.

Now that the player character knows everything they can consummate the relationship. Why now? Because full disclosure is sexy, and so is a good slow burn.

Oh, and remember those sentimental items? After telling us about his completed mission to our character, he finally shows us what's in that locked chest that had been a test of trust. The one we decide to respect his wishes and leave alone. He finally opens up about his past a tiny bit and talks about why each item he kept in there was so important to him. But of course, most of his trinkets will not be related to his time in the hells or his mysterious now completed task.

Later on, we can ask, "What in the hells were you thinking, taking all that on?!"

Dammon's response? He gives a sheepish shrug and says, "I think you know why. Everything is in order now. That's all that matters, my love. Thank you for trusting, helping, and believing in me."

To just a friend player character, who tries yet again for an explanation, Dammon will only offer, "Just know everything is in order now. That's all that matters, and you have my deepest thanks."

Again, to be clear, we the players are still kept in the dark. It will be only our romanced player character that will know what happened, and there could be an option to whisper Dammon's secret to others. That temptation could always be there among the dialogue options when speaking to the other companions. But kissing and telling will come with consequences. Anywhere from earning a large chunk of disapproval with Dammon to him outright breaking up with the player's character and leaving the party. Maybe he tells all to Karlach too or maybe not, it could all depend on your and Dammon’s relationship with her.

But no matter what, Dammon keeps a majority of his mystery.

Frazer is hopefully happy. We'll be happy.

Everyone. Can. Be. Happy!

If you agree, please consider sharing this to help bring it to Larian's attention. Feel free to discuss your thoughts in the comments below too.

Let's get Dammon into a starring role as an origin character and romanceable in a DLC to help feature the Artificer class!

[iamthecomet]

Okay, so, how do you think all the ghouls and ghoulettes go to sleep? Like, who has 3 fans on them even in the dead of winter for the noise and so they can burrow under the blanket/into their partner? Rain I feel sleeps with like, silk sheets and thunder sounds, or maybe the sound of rain against the window. Dew or Aeon sleep with the TV on, or music, cause it makes them feel less alone? One of the ghoulettes has a squishmallow collection and if you spend the night in her room you have to learn every single one's name. Who showers right before bed so they go to sleep feeling clean and who showers in the morning to rinse off the grime from the night? Who wakes up in the middle of the night dying for a snack only for that snack to be a handful of shredded cheese they unceremoniously shove into their mouth, leaving ample evidence of their crime on the floor in front of the fridge?

I have answers to all of your questions and MORE! Aether: Quintessence makes him run cooler than others. So when it's cold he really feels it. Sleeps with lots of blankets and pillows. A big nest. Sometimes takes him a while to fall asleep. Needs it to be very quiet. Once he's asleep though, he sleeps like the dead. Takes forever for him to really wake up for the day. Sleeps in late, always. Aeon: Can sleep literally anywhere. Curls up in a ball, falls asleep. No trouble falling asleep--bad at staying that way if he's alone. Can sleep all night on the bus floor as long as there are other people around him. The second they all go to be? He's up. Needs the sound of other people, absolutely watches TV before bed. Aurora: Her bed is an oasis. So soft. So fluffy. Covered in pillows and blankets. Lots of soft fuzzy blankets, plushes. Falls asleep in a nest of soft things. Sleeps curled up small. Like Aeon, hates to sleep alone. But she loves her bed more than anyone else's so is usually inviting people into hers instead of going to theirs. Listens to music to fall asleep. Cirrus: Needs complete silence to fall asleep soundly. Otherwise, she gets distracted. Prefers to sleep alone because she's a light sleeper. Goes to bed very late, gets up moderately early. No one knows how she does it. Definitely the first person you will run into on her way to get a midnight snack. Cumulus: Like Aurora, has made her room and her bed into her sanctuary. Listens to sleep sounds to go to bed (rainforest noises are her favorite. She likes the birds). Manages to get Cirrus to sleep with her more nights than not, despite Cirrus' insistence that she's better off on her own. A pretty heavy sleeper, who doesn't wake up very often in the middle of the night. Dewdrop: Massive bed hog, somehow. Starfishes, sprawls out. Moves a lot in his sleep too. Generally not fun to sleep with but somehow is usually not in his bed alone. Light blankets. A handful of pillows. Has never slept through the night once in his life. Is absolutely the one shoveling shredded cheese into his face at 3am--unless Cirrus gets to it first. Mountain: Light sleeper, but like Aeon can doze off almost anywhere. Swiss is sure he saw Mountain fall asleep standing up once. Big on comfort. Has a massive bed that is usually the location of most ghoul piles. Snores when he's really tired. Sleeps with the window open all year round. Rain: Always cold. Always showers before bed, without fail. Usually found in Dew's bed with an extra blanket wrapped around him. Also moves a lot in his sleep. Talks too, nonsense mostly. Massive drooler. Has never snored once in his life (Dew says this is a lie). Can only sleep in very specific places. Hotel nights are really hard for him. Sunshine: Like Aeon and Mountain can sleep literally anywhere. But once she's out she's out. She fell asleep on the floor? She'll be there until morning. Wakes up with the sun, goes to bed early. Almost never sleeps in her own bed and definitely not alone. Doesn't move once she falls asleep. Drools always, like Rain. Swiss: Spends maybe one night a week in his own bed. Always is cuddled up with someone. Will never admit that it's because he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed--that the touch of his pack mates is what relaxes him enough to actually fall asleep. Light sleeper, but falls back asleep very very quickly if he's woken up (like seconds). Because of this he's absoltuely useless in a crisis.

[donnerpartyofone]

nothing to see here

I have to get over this crippling fear of being misunderstood that makes me angry, paranoid, anti-social, and sometimes even aggressive. It makes me say too much or too little. It makes me a worse writer.

I think that when most people complain about being misunderstood, they are talking about having a bad reputation, being slandered, or having no one who takes the time to get to know them. The latter thing correlates with a false equivalence between being understood and being liked, which is not a necessary product of understanding. Sometimes people also equate being understood with being correct--forgetting that someone can understand what you are saying and still disagree with it. Variations on all of those things have happened to me, just like anybody else, but my anxiety is really about people simply not comprehending the basic things that I am actually saying.

People in my life tell me that I'm very articulate, this is held to be my main quality I think, but that idea is contradicted by the frequency with which I go to great pains to explain something as specifically as possible, only to have people (often the same people who tell me I'm smart and well-spoken) completely misconstrue it, project their own baggage onto it, hold me responsible for assumptions about what I mean that are contradicted by what I just said, repeat back to me what I just said as if it were their own original idea, or even answer questions that I didn't actually ask. Mansplaining is alive and well in 2024 CE, perhaps especially among leftist men who believe they could never personally commit this crime, which presumption leaves them wide open to mansplaining all the time without thinking. But that's only a small part of the story of why so many people never seem to have the slightest idea of what I am saying to them, no matter how specific and detailed I try to be in my quest to say one thing clearly, while eliminating all over possible meanings.

I suppose it is terrifying to be misunderstood because it can make it so that you cannot control your circumstances. Advocating for yourself counts for nothing if people witlessly or willfully fail to understand your words. Language control is a major weapon of authority. I have been in corporate situations where my colleagues and I were prevented from resolving problems because upper management, who were tired of hearing about the problems, instituted language bans that prevented us from even discussing the problems clearly and effectively. I was once at an ayahuasca retreat (don't ask) where the shady organizers banned everyone from using the word "sick", which I guess was contrary to their whole healing ideology; so if you had to "get well" then you would "get well" into your bucket and an attendant would empty the bucket into the "wellness pit". One of the people I was with had grown up in an evangelical environment and went on to study religions and cults, and he pointed out that this form of language control is a classic red flag--and in particular if you are taking away a person's ability to make a critical distinction like the one between sickness and health, that can indicate a pretty dangerous situation. For another, even more obvious example, if you're in a relationship where someone is creating ambiguity around words like "yes" and "no", and inventing all kinds of subtext and context for your words, you're in trouble.

Of course, misunderstanding happens for all kinds of innocent reasons too. People don't listen that well, they don't read that well, they are just waiting for their turn to talk, they're angry and they don't think about what they're really hearing or saying, they are full of subconscious projections, they assume they know what you're talking about without reviewing your whole statement and then they just make their usual foregone conclusions. They have some narrative in mind, often a more optimistic one than whatever you are struggling to describe, and they'll contradict you with this attitude like they're doing you a big favor (like they're not kind of calling you a liar). It's incredibly frightening to be misunderstood. It's like one of those nightmares where you're running away in slow motion, or more aptly you try to scream but nothing comes out. I'm 100% sure this is why I'm so obsessed with language: I think that if I can just figure out how to say things that are always understood, then I will be able to save myself from danger.

But this fear makes me take things seriously when I shouldn't. The internet can help you find your people and it can show and teach you things you didn't know about before, but every time you say anything online, to friends or strangers, you create limitless opportunities to be misunderstood in ways that you have never dreamed possible. It is so hard for me not to correct people. I KNOW that it is not important for internet randos to understand me. I also KNOW that most people still won't understand me even if I correct them. But it is SO HARD not to say "That's not what I said" or "That's exactly what I already said" or "You're making an assumption that isn't based on anything and is also not true" or "I didn't ask" or "That's not even what I was talking about." I KNOW it doesn't matter, and that if I dig in with someone, I am likely to become MORE FRUSTRATED. But when I don't correct the person, this DANGER light goes on in my brain and all day long I have this anxious feeling like I forgot to do something important, like I left the oven on or something, and I had better go back and fix the problem OR ELSE. It's easy to decide intellectually that not everyone's opinions and perceptions matter, and it is obvious that misunderstanding is a common problem that you can never eliminate completely, so the only thing to do is ignore the situation and keep living your life. But if only ignoring the situation were not so emotionally loaded, it would be a lot easier to steer clear of making bad situations worse.

Another option is to just stop saying things altogether, and this is actually an appealing possibility. Unfortunately it comes with just as much emotional difficulty as the fruitless struggle to make oneself understood.

[holdmeclosebutdontloveme]

Part 1

He chose you out of the women all gathered in a matchmaking party. It's your beauty that captured his attention but, beyond his shallow decision, your disinterest in romance accompanied by a declaration for a mutually beneficial relationship a married couple have in society, strengthen his resolute.

Devil Hunters already have high salaries for a profession that most die on action or quit after a few missions. It's even higher when hunters have a spouse or children to care for; sometimes both.

Although, the spouse does hold a certain percentage of the money. Not like Kishibe cares for that detail as his wallet was thick enough to finance his vices for a very long time once you two finally got hitched.

The other half eventually becomes his wedding gift to you to invest on your business.

Which you took as a sign to look away when your husband comes back from his field missions, extremely intoxicated while completely painted with someone's lipstick.

You still care for his wellbeing and always managed to drag him to his room. You also made sure he lies down on his bed, tucking his blanket underneath his chin while hesitant in whether or not you can, at the very least, take his socks off from his feet.

But such decision should be left said than assume in silence and so you left his room with the door slightly ajar. To listen for potential accidents, you say to yourself.

-

You are the woman in the household but the position doesn't put you down on your marriage. You cook because you enjoy it; it's what your business is entirely about too. So it's normal that there's always food on the table, always tasty and never less of a waste as Kishibe has an appetite of a black hole.

He denies your idea of a homemade bento though.

You accept his rejection with ease.

Kishibe, however, brings his co-workers to your shop. And once he's there, he's simply a Devil Hunter who is a regular of your business and eats your food like any customer that pays for their meal and leaves once they're done.

You are a wife but not to him in everyone's eyes and it's better that way.

Devil Hunters, while feared, aren't actually respected by the majority of people. Crazy, deranged, and psychopaths were words that many described the hunters. Such disrespect goes as far with a rumor that being acquainted with them, regardless if you are uninvolved with their work, brings bad luck. All those were spoken and heard throughout your life but you never really paid close attention.

It's only when you're married to one that you feel a tug of emotion but uncertainty to what it is leaves you quiet. It could've be the unease from the other customers as Kishibe rounds his group to a table at the corner.

As if your husband wants to hide from the attention. Such attempt failed when boisterous laughter and recognizable uniforms magnified their presence from the rest.

"Are you going to do something?" A customer approaches you with a question, expressing their disdain both in voice and expression.

And you look at them, your blood boiling either by the heat from your kitchen or from the person whose life is spared for another day because of your husband.

"If they can pay, they can stay," you answered and immediately walk away from the conversation to work on your dishes.

Unknowing of Kishibe watching you throughout the interaction.

.

.

[emotionalhxc]

PART 2: Strawberry Hospital Instagram Q&A Q: Also do you like Sky Eats Airplane? Some of your songs give me the same vibe

N: "lowkey in shock that this band was brought up to me because they were (partially) the reason I found out what a DAW was in the first place because I read some interview of theirs back then describing their method of creation or something formative memories of listening to this one on a school computer in 5th grade" Q: When making an EP, do you usually have a "concept" or "vibe" before making the songs? N: "mostly! it is typically reflective of whatever sonic fixations I had in the years preceding the release itself + a culmination of whatever emotions are stirred up by life circumstances once I have that intersection pinned down, it begins to take a form of its own"

Q: Is there a story behind the Phantasmaphilia album art? It's so mesmerizing *0* N: "indeed ! the dead insects themselves were found outside of where I was living during the completion of the album, around this time of year. myself and some old friends collected them and brought them inside to scan in for the sake of the cover artwork. as for the bathtub image source, I am actually not holding my own legs but another person (out of frame) but we were wearing swimming trunks haha I wanted to create a feeling of ghostly vulnerability and I appreciate said old friends for helping me realize my vision at the time" Q: your music heals me and makes life bearable, thank you from the bottom of my heart. ❤️‍🩹 N: "I am so so grateful... thank you for sharing with me, it keeps me pushing forward knowing that my music reached you in the same way that other music heals me too (hug)"

Q: Squall. I love that song so much. I would love to hear your reasons for that song. N: "oh yes Squall! I wrote that for an internet friend who lived somewhere that was basically a perpetual snowstorm, I would stay up late talking with them and it meant very much to me during that period of time to me, the flurry of splittercore kicks and icy trance lead melodies reminded me of a blizzard" Q: How did you get your name? N: "strawberry hospital? or neptune? I'll answer both! strawberry hospital was intended to follow the naming trend of many bands and artists I grew up with, but also represent the otherwise polarizing thematic elements (bittwersweetness) and stylings present within the music and lyrics my name Neptune is chosen but I have kept it for over a decade now, it reminds me of the ocean and a cold planet very far away from here"

Q: Ilysm I sry if this is a dumb q but are the songs on halfawake all vocaloid or ur voice N: "awe no questions are dumb! the original release is exclusively vocaloid as I was too anxious to include my own singing in my songs in 2016. but the live version of the song is special, because I sing the chorus with my own voice instead. other albums feature a combination of my own voice and vocaloid (with exceptions)" Q: what is your bowling ball size? N: "this question is so unrelated I love it... so I cannot bowl to save my life and maybe I'm missing a double meaning here but they say a bowling ball should be 10% of your own weight right? in that case, like 12? I am unfortunate epitome of gay people failing at sports stereotype"

Q: what's your personal favorite song you've ever release?? 🖤 N: "Halfawake, Memento, Phantoma, Azure, Rhythm 0" Q: so like whats next for uu? N: "I'd love to play a few more shows before the year ends... maybe an international one? we shall see... otherwise trying to explore new forms for the project to take, I never want to reiterate what has already been established to the point of monotony heh" Q: I really love Tacit ❤️ and would love to know what it's about N: "Tacit is an apology for not being able to fulfill the role of what somebody would like you to be for them. not exactly a hard rejection but an assuring one (if such a thing exists) ... sometimes you need to use your head over your heart? I struggled with this at times p.s. it was heavily influenced by the haibane renmei OST!"

Q: Would you ever go on a tour! Californian fan here and I love you and your music :D N: "it will happen someday I am certain, playing a show in California feels obligatory (in a good way) plus I have had a few invitations from fellow musician friends that I need to take them up on" CONTINUED INTO PART 3 ON MY NEXT POST

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　０９

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

＊ Puzzle n°002

Contrary to the first puzzle, the remaining contestants did not immediately leave. They stood still, sometimes glancing at each other, as if probing each other’s movements.

“The largest crown…”

This mutter had come from a girl whose golden hair was tied up with a ribbon. She looked to be around the age of a high schooler. Aside from me, I was certain that she had to be the youngest among the participants.

“It appears that the organiser of this game likes to gather people around in the same place…” an old captain mused to himself. I remembered seeing him on the deck earlier.

The gorgeous lady who had also been on the deck took over the conversation.

“The ship is decorated with quite a few crowns here and there… It will be difficult to compare all their sizes within the time limit.”

“Then this means that the crowns on display are…”

“…all decoys to mislead us?”

Just a few instants before, we had heard once again the screams of the other contestants. A heavy atmosphere seemed to flow among those who remained in the hall, as everyone wanted to hear a little bit of the others’ opinions…

Was it a sense of solidarity? Or perhaps, on the contrary, they were probing each other in an attempt to assess their ulterior motives… It was probably the latter.

After all, only one person could win and gain eternal life.

“Professor, can you solve the puzzle this time?”

Janice was also anxious.

Alright, I would figure it out this time, and I would let her win the game.

“Well…” The professor was about to answer her question, but I decided to interrupt him.

“Professor, I’ll take care of this one!”

Both Janice and him looked a little surprised at my enthusiasm.

“Luke…?”

She remembered my name! That alone made me a little happier.

“It’s all right, Janice! After all, I’m the professor’s ‘apprentice number one’!”

I proudly flashed my pointing finger in the air as hard as I could. When she saw this, she started giggling… That too made me happy. I did not mind looking like a clown if it could make her smile.

“You have a very reliable apprentice,” she told the professor with an amused tone.

Alright, I could not afford to fail this puzzle. I immediately opened my notebook and drew a picture of a crown.

“The biggest crown…” I mumbled while thinking. “A crown… crown…”

The voice telling the puzzle came back to my mind.

Ladies and gentlemen, are you enjoying your ride on the Crown Petone?

“That’s it!” I had just been struck with a flash of inspiration. “We are now on the Crown Petone!”

“Well done, boy!”

Those words from the man with the hat and beard took me by surprise. I was so focused on solving the puzzle that I had completely forgotten about the many people that were standing around me.

The man in the hat made a short run for the door.

“If I remember correctly, the entrance to this theatre had a sign in the shape of a large crown, with the words ‘Crown Petone’ written on it!”

“Oh yes, it was a fairly large crown!”

“That’s it! It has to be!”

Everyone in the hall rushed to the exit.

They had all listened to my reasoning. With this, I would let Janice win! I was so proud of myself.

“Professor, we should go too!”

The professor was smiling. “Indeed we should, Luke.”

The three of us were the last ones to leave the theatre.

But as we walked down the corridor, I became more and more worried… The people who had left for the entrance were nowhere to be seen.

Janice would also turn her head and look behind us in search for other people, so she surely felt the same.

“Have they all made it to the entrance already?”

The professor did not answer.

Janice informed in a reserved whisper: “But… isn’t the entrance the other way around?”

What!?

“Professor, we must have taken a wrong turn! We have to go back!”

But as usual, he remained perfectly calm.

“This way is fine, Luke.”

“But…”

“The sign on the entrance is also a red herring.”

I widened my eyes in confusion, mouth agape.

“The ship was decorated with crowns all over, making everyone believe that they were decoys, and inciting them to go to the entrance,” he explained. “But… This is not the right answer either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only one person can gain eternal life. These puzzles should not be too easy, otherwise everybody would be able to get them right…”

The professor continued to unravel his reasoning matter-of-factly.

“…And here is the clever part: after solving the first puzzle correctly, we had all been gathered in one room. So naturally, when the second puzzle had a similar wording as the first, we would tend to assume that the next puzzle would follow the same pattern.”

“Professor, I’m getting a bit confused now…”

“It’s alright. You will see soon…”

Suddenly, the professor stopped. We were just in front of a door that led to the deck. He opened the door and encouraged me to come out first.

As I walked out, I saw a row of suspended lifeboats. Several people were cooperating, trying to lower them into the sea.

There were the old captain, the girl who had blonde hair tied up in a ribbon, the gorgeous woman and the muscular man who looked like an athlete, that we had seen earlier… Then there was an explorer-looking man with a big backpack…

The lifeboat that the explorer was trying to lower suddenly lost its balance significantly.

“Whoops, be careful there. May I…?”

The old captain went to his rescue and took the reins, showing him how to handle the rope.

“Huh, you’re doing it so easily.” The explorer man was gazing in admiration.

“I’m the captain of a trading ship, I have devoted my entire life to this. The name is O’Donnell,” the old man said while quickly tilting his hat. “But, we should hurry and keep the chat for later.”

I looked around, seeing other people having similar interactions. What on Earth were they all up to? My mind was completely at a loss.

Janice went past me and approached a lifeboat too.

“Mr Whistler,” she called out.

“Janice,” he responded in a breath.

It was only upon hearing their voices that I realised… Mr Whistler and a little blonde girl were there too.

The little girl’s straight hair, parted down the middle, looked just like Melina’s photo from the brochure. Maybe this was the girl from the letter who had claimed that… she had eternal life?

When she saw the professor approaching, she fidgeted and quickly hid behind Mr Whistler’s back. Before the professor could say anything, Mr Whistler introduced her:

“This is my adopted daughter, Melina.”

The professor remained silent, staring at the girl. So she was named Melina too…

From behind us, a voice rang out with disdain.

“Tsh. So you solved the puzzle too, after all.” It was the man in the hat.

“Indeed.”

The professor smiled at him. Even when addressing disrespectful people, he was never going to be rude. After all, of course, that’s what a gentleman should do.

Still, what was that man talking about? I thought he was the one who had praised me earlier for solving it!

“Ugh. Great, even more competitors.”

That was the man who seemed to be an athlete. He also sounded extremely annoyed.

Everything made even less sense than before. Everyone else obviously knew what was going on, and I seemed to be the only one left in the dark…

I couldn’t help but tell the man in the hat what I thought. “But— You were the one who said earlier that the sign at the entrance was the right answer!”

“Tss. I want eternal life, boy, so I tricked those idiots. And I had to act quickly too, before you’d start spouting even more hints…”

“Spouting hints…?”

I really was completely clueless. I had no idea what was going on anymore.

　⇚　　　　　　　⇛

[tadpolesonalgae]

cbmthy 5 is so good, you never fail. i'm so happy to see reader fight with eris word for word i just wish she did the same with azriel. if she hit azriel with that "not everyone wants to waste their life being miserable and bitter" he would probably cry lmao. no but he's actually starting to get me mad because he did good in coming to talk to her after the shit show but then i realized he wasn't even going to apologize, it was just to try to know more. are you planning on writing anything from azriel's perspective at all? i just feel like at this point him being so dismissive of her feelings is weird since i feel like in the books azriel is a good listener and he understands other's feelings well (we can tell by how he saw nesta in acosf) so it would make sense that he's not trying to be mean here but just keeps saying the wrong things unintentionally, it would also help him to not come across as irredeemable tbh because right now (and i cant believe im saying this) eris is being better with her than azriel. though i think part of that is that she doesn't like eris like she does azriel so she just doesn't care about what he has to say much.

i think it's also a testament of how azriel jusr doesn't really take notice of her that he thinks she can't comprehend why eris is dangerous or whatever, like he genuinely never paid attention to her to know she's actually smart and since he has shadows and all that to tell him these things, he really just never gave it a thought lol she should slap him like she did eris

i hope we get to see her more with the ic though, like i like the eris thing she has going on and it would be fun to see them more but if the endgame is for her to stay in the night court i hope we get to see her more with them, especially with the last part where she doesn't even like saying they're her family (even if it's partly because of her wanting to sit on azriel's face). i think it would be good to see her ask feyre or even rhys the same question she did eris, or other things she doesn't understand well and i dont know what you're doing with her powers but i wish she'd show them instead of them finding out because i can see how they would feel a little betrayed that eris knows but not them and at some point her not telling them makes it feel like she doesn't trust them and like i said if she's supposed to stay in the night court i hope they're good to her. speaking of powers i can't believe eris' bitchass figured it out and didn't tell her (yes i can, the little asshole) but im so excited to see what they are. she glows like starfall and eris connected the dots when she was talking about the mother 🤔

it's also interesting how you bring up the science being a blasphemy thing into it because i never even thought of it since for us science is the real thing and there's no proof god is real but for them the mother is definitely real so i get that science could rub some people the wrong way. it would be fun to see her with helion since there's so many scholars in day court and it's something she likes but i feel like we're more focused on eris here

Sorry for taking so long to answer this 🫠

I’m completely with on you anticipating the beginning of reader managing to stand up for herself! Also getting to see how Azriel will respond when she starts vocalising her emotions, because at the moment she really doesn’t know how to even start on that when it comes to him 😬😞

Her communication skills really 📉 when Azriel.

With Azriel not really taking notice of her, I suppose it is partly that he was more focused on Elain in the past, but reader definitely has some reclusive tendencies (she really loves her books—though at the expense of social interaction, sometimes😭) that I’m not sure I’ve properly highlighted, so I’ll work on that because it’s an important part :)

Honestly the Az pov is a really good idea, since it would help clarify why he’s acting so strangely in Reader’s pov, so thank you for that!

‘(even if it's partly because of her wanting to sit on azriel's face)’

😭😭😭 no you didn’t—

For real though, she’s a bit confused about her sexuality and the idea of being a woman, give her a moment to figure herself out—human society wasn’t exactly encouraging about women enjoying themselves or having any agency/autonomy 😞

Definitely agree about having more IC content since the most they’ve been in CBMTHY is the bday part where their image was a little conflictive? I think it’s important to show how various misunderstandings have happened over the years, and how strange behaviour kind of slipped by because that’s the only way they’ve known her :/

We’ve already seen in acotar that attitudes toward women differ depending on where you are, so I don’t think it’s unreasonable that in places like the Night and Day Courts that attitudes toward science would be more modern, whereas Autumn’s pretty set in its ways 🍁

[nickosaymon]

WARNING: ⚠️⚠️⚠️

This "fanfic" addresses sensitive topics, such as death, infection with a lethal virus, bad language, cannibalism and violence.

If you are sensitive to these topics, please do not read. Or at least read it with a plush toy by your side!

For the rest of the remaining people, have a good read!

If there are any spelling mistakes let me know, English is not my native language.

DAY 10 - “Today my sister went to the market, she was just hoping to buy some fruits like apples, but when she got there, she was almost attacked by a pony. She managed to defend herself, but it was still dangerous. Princess Twilight Sparkle asked us to quarantine, all the ponies are scared, sometimes we hear noises at the doors, but we don't open them, it could be one of them... Anyway, the letters don't go anywhere, many ponies have gotten sick, so no one risks going out. I keep thinking about my special po-”

FUCK! MY SPECIAL PONY! What the fuck am I doing standing here? I.. I need to find him! This is dangerous... But sick ponies can't fly...

I look at my wings, this will be a quick flight, I'm just going to see him and then come back! No one will notice I even leave..

Opening the bedroom windows, he also opens his wings and with a little preparation, flies out the window. Flying over all of Ponyville, the houses had their doors and windows closed, there were some ponies coming out, but there were others that were completely strange.

“Ah, this perfectly recalls what Princess Twilight said, these strange ponies are so clumsy and slow...”

The little pegasus watched those ponies as he flew low, quickly arriving at his beloved's house, but the low flight had its bad points... the smell is strong, it smells like rot.

“OH NO NO NO NO! WHERE ARE YOU LOVE?”

Looking everywhere, putting your ear to the window and listening to the ponies inside. Where is he.. maybe infected? The little pegasus flew away, this time back to his home.

“He’s probably not infected! He is smart, handsome and agile!”

As he questioned in his head, his wings ended up beating faster and faster, but lower, and lower, until he crashed into a pony.

“OH OH OH, SORRY” He looked around but didn't see any pony.

“Hey! I'm right here!” The pony, comically, was underneath him.

They stood up and when they looked at each other.

“SASA! What are you doing here! It's dangerous!" The unicorn said this bitterly, but with a tone of concern.

“By Celestia, be gentle I was looking for you! Since the letters don't arrive..”

Both ponies were worried about each other, but the place and time did not allow for conversation.

“Sasa there's a... Behind you..”

The pegasus flapped its wings and started to fly low, it turned around and looked at that thing, it didn't look like a pony.

That thing made some strange noises, it has the structure of a pony, but it doesn't look like one, it's almost an empty shell of what once was a pony... I wonder how he is still alive and slowly walking towards us.

“SASA GET OUT” A ray of magic is thrown at that infected pony, which scares the pegasus and almost fails to fly.

“We need to get out of here, I think your achievement attracted attention..” They both look at a bunch of infected people walking close to them.

“So they are attracted to sounds... some don't even have ears”

“Don’t just stand there!”

The unicorn murmurs, but then runs away close to some houses, while the pegasus flies right above him. No pony would answer them, everyone is too scared to be kind, so what was left for the two was to hide between the alleys.

“So, I don't want to ruin our escape, but there are already other weird ponies in this alley..."

“FUCK! We’ll have to do this another way!”

The unicorn quickly stopped running and turned towards those ponies, using its horn to make magical rays and hit them. Which was easy, since the infected were very slow, sometimes one or the other was faster, but it still wasn't difficult.

The pegasus to help, ripped a splinter of wood from the roof of one of the houses and threw it at the other infected people who were already in the alley.

“YUCK! HOW DISGUSTING THEY ARE FULL OF WORMS” He kept hitting those things with the wood until it broke.

“We are stuck! Couldn’t we run away?”

“Escape how?? Run where??” The magical rays began to diminish, just as the unicorn's horn began to hurt.

"The roof!" Quickly the pegasus held the unicorn and flapped its wings as hard as possible, but he wouldn't be able to do it alone. “USE YOUR HORN, OR WE WILL DIE!” The unicorn quickly forced its horn to levitate itself, with a lot of effort, both managed to climb onto a roof.

“There's no point staying here. They’re going to try to get up here.” Soon he looks at the pegasus who rips a splinter of wood from the roof and throws it down below. “That'll probably keep them there..”

The two ponies were tired, definitely neither of them imagined that this could happen, maybe the unicorn, Arthur, imagined this, but the pegasus didn't. The two of them just decided to stay on the roof, and maybe jump from roof to roof.

With every minute that passed, they both became more anxious, it's not like they were taking any risks, but they just wanted to be safe at home soon. It wasn't close to night, but it was as if a dense fog was under the sky. A possible side effect of the fact that pegasus stopped clearing the sky over time. Some of them simply refused and others were just scared.

For a while Rainbow Dash was cleaning the sky on her own, but she and her friends were summoned by Celestia to go to Canterlot. Nopony knows what they are doing, some simply assume they have all escaped to somewhere where this infection doesn't exist.

The pegasus, now a little rested, flaps its wings and flies up to the sky, close to the clouds and takes some out of the sky. Then he goes back to the roof where he was with his special pony.

“Now we can know when it’s getting late!” The little pegasus places his wing behind his beloved, and looks at him smiling. “How long are we going to stay here?” The unicorn looks at his beloved, half torn between concern for his love and concern for his family.

“I just hope we stay safe.”

.

In a place not far away, six brave ponies and two princesses were planning something. They set up armies and strategies, at the same time as they prepared their best doctors. The ponies didn't know it yet, or at least most didn't, but what was coming was terrible. No one would know how this terrible virus started, but there was speculation.

“ A curious unicorn stole a book from the forbidden part of the Canterlot library, in the book there was an unfinished spell, which promised to keep pests away from fruits. But at a terrible price.. ”

“ Wow.. do you think this story could be right Celestia? ”

“ We hope so, this is our only chance Twilight ”

END

of the first chapter

[anonymous1038]

Knight and Prince

@ila-appreciationweek day 4

There was always something about Lucas that drew Jasper in, ever since they met during childhood.

Jasper wasn’t exactly a smart kid back then. He was kind and sweet, but certainly not smart. Half the time he failed to submit fully completed homework because it was too complicated for him to understand.

But one day, this kid came along and helped him with his homework and stopped him from getting into trouble with the teacher.

It was a newly transferred boy from another kindergarten. Lucas Thomas.

Jasper admired him, all things considered. How he was smart but also helpful and kind. Other smart people he met were snooty and unpleasant to talk to, but Lucas was different.

They eventually became friends, and joined with their other childhood friends to form a great group, up until Jane’s death and they all split apart.

But before they did, Jasper felt something around Lucas. Something that never left him even years later.

Ava, Stacy and Andy loved to make fun of him for it. They always say he has a crush on him, but he never had to courage to tell him about his feelings, of how he felt warm and fuzzy and safe around him and how he wants to keep holding hands on their way back from school when his parents couldn’t pick him up.

One of his biggest regrets was not acting on his feelings back then.

Years later in high school, they found a way to reconnect again. Jasper found out about his struggles with his parents’ expectations and the drastic measures he took to try and keep up with them. He found out that even the supposed perfect people can fall into dark places.

But he was there to be a guiding light for him.

“Your parents put unreasonable expectations on you. Of course you would crack under the pressure!”

“I’ll be here with you. Withdrawal’s probably gonna suck but I’m going to be here for you. You deserve to relax. You deserve to be happy.”

He guided him out of that dark place, and back into the light. He saved him. Kinda like how a knight saved the princess in fairytales. Except, fairytales weren’t real. They were fabrications made up to hide the dark truth behind monsters that roam in the woods.

Jasper wished to protect Lucas from those monsters.

(Sometimes, back then, when they were all together, Jasper joked that he could be the knight saving Lucas the prince from a horrifying dragon. Ava would say that he would die foolishly in the process, and Jasper would retort, saying that he’ll come back to him like in The Princess Bride. Because love always conquered all.)

And he did.

At the cost of his life.

.~.

Jasper Bright was a simple kid to the eyes of many.

To Lucas, he was more than just another one in the crowd. To him, he was the sweetest kid to ever roam around, the light that lit up the darkness surrounding him.

In their first meeting, when he saw Jasper, little Jasper with unshaved, brown hair, struggling to answer a few questions for their math homework, he couldn’t help but help him. He knew not everyone can be as intelligent as him, so he did what he can to help those around him.

At first, he just wanted to leave it at that. A simple encounter that wouldn’t become something more.

Then, Jasper said he wanted to be his friend. He couldn’t refuse.

He felt so happy when he was with him, how he wants to make everyone happy and laugh, how he considers himself as Jane’s best friend, how he likes doing little dances when listening to music...everything about him was extraordinary to him.

Sometimes, he feels his face flush when’s around, or his palms start to get sweaty when he speaks with his lovely voice, but it’s normal. Definitely normal.

When they split apart, one of his biggest regrets was not admitting that what he felt for Jasper wasn’t normal.

Without his friends, his parents dominated his life. They kept pushing him until he felt the pressure starting to collapse on him, until he found that the only way to live up to them was to use his mother’s focus pills. He was terrified of someone finding out what he did, of the repercussions, of everything really. He thought there was no way out.

But Jasper came in and helped him when he was at his lowest.

“That doesn’t excuse what I did...”

“...you’re right. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be okay...I’ll be okay, with you here.”

He guided him out of that dark place, and back into the light. He saved him. Kinda like how a knight saved the princess in fairytales. Except, fairytales weren’t real. They were fabrications made up to hide the dark truth behind monsters that roam in the woods.

Lucas wished to protect Jasper from those monsters.

(”How come I’m not the knight?” Lucas asked, back when things were more calm, with no death, no trauma.

Jasper giggled. “You’re so proper! That’s why you’re a prince!” He takes his hands into his, unsuspecting to the heat now covering his face because of this.

“But what if the knight gets hurt Or...?”

“Then the prince can save the knight. But maybe it happens in another storybook? Besides, if the knight is gone, then the knight will come back! Like in that movie! Love always conquers all!”)

In the end, the knight gave his life to protect the prince.

The prince grieved his death.

.~.

Moving on was difficult.

Especially when you keep having nightmares about your trauma.

It was always the same one, and somehow, they keep getting worse despite remaining the same.

Lucas would dream that he was back in the ruins, on the night of homecoming (the night Noah betrayed them and killed...him) and see Jane’s spirit looming over Jasper.

Sweet, understanding Jasper, who tried to reach out, to fix what he supposedly broke ten years ago.

Then Noah came, and stabbed him in the heart. Shadows would envelope him and look back at him with wide, terrified, horrified eyes.

“Please...save me...”

Lucas would try - he would try so hard.

But no matter what he did, he couldn’t save him. He would be consumed, his body in the middle of their seats.

And then he would wake up.

If he was honest, the only reason he hasn’t gone mad would be college and Dan, who he talks to on the daily for therapy.

Jasper taught him how to ask for help. He wasn’t going to let that lesson be wasted.

He was about to press on Dan’s number when he received another call from someone else. He didn’t think about it much when he answered it and held the phone up to his ear.

“H-”

“Jasper’s still alive.”

Normally, that voice would’ve prompted him to end the call immediately, but hearing those three words, three words, stopped him.

“What did you say?”

“Come to the ruins. I promise it’s not a trap. Here I even have some proof.”

A few moments later, before Lucas considers hanging up on Noah, another voice comes in. One that is very familiar, but unfamiliar all the same.

“...Lucas...?”

.~.

It was the middle of the night, and classes are supposed to start early tomorrow, but Lucas got into his car and drove all the way over to the woods.

The same woods that carry a dark secret.

The same woods that took someone (two people) away from him.

He started towards the ruins, a pocketknife held tightly in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Last time he went towards those ruins, he got tricked into playing a game where he could have died by a friend who also got his boyfriend killed.

He surpassed those feelings and memories, forcing himself to go towards that familiar structure.

When he finally arrived, he saw an old friend.

“Noah.”

That name feels forbidden to say.

Noah turns around when the beam of light from the flashlight came his way.

“Hey Lucas.”

“You said Jasper’s still alive. Where is he?” Lucas tightens his grip on the pocketknife, wondering if all of this is just a trick to give him false hope. Or just some dream he hasn’t woken up from.

Noah turns to look at the trees. “Jasper? You can come out now.”

From the trees, a shadowy figure melts out of them and forms into a familiar body of shadows, glowing eyes looking at him curiously.

This wasn’t Jane. Jane moved on.

This wasn’t Redfield. Redfield moved on.

“...Lucas...?”

“...Jasper? Is that you?”

Lucas drops the pocketknife without even realizing, his hand stretching towards his wispy hands. He felt a swirl of emotions go through his head as he wonders if this is even real.

That Jasper Bright is still alive.

“...I am...Jasper...” The ghostly figure darkens with sadness, his wispy hand entangling with his. “...I...think...?”

Panic coursed through him momentarily. Then was replaced when a thought came to mind, hoping that it’ll help his memory.

“Do you remember when we were kids? You always say that you were a knight who would save me, a prince, from a terrifying dragon.”

“I...save you?”

“That’s right. You saved me, actually. And now...I’m going to save you.”

“...save me...”

Jasper’s eyes glowed blue, a ghostly grin on his face.

“Lucas...save...me...”

.~.

The next three years were difficult.

Lucas spent more time researching ghosts and rituals than he does on his studies, unable to let the feeling of hope escape him again.

He just couldn’t leave Jasper like that. Not alive but not dead, with the possibility of turning into something violent like Jane, with the possibility of hurting people.

He won’t let him lose himself.

But when the ritual didn’t work the first time, his hopes were dashed.

He spent his time in his studio apartment, unable to sleep as he wonders what went wrong, and if this was his last chance to save Jasper.

And it didn’t work.

He considers Connor’s advice on moving on and look at the people who’re still here with him. All his other friends are still alive, trying to move forward with their lives.

If Jasper was actually dead, then he probably would’ve joined them.

But because he isn’t, he can’t move on. Not yet at least.

But with the last of his hope gone, there wasn’t much he could do anymore. Other than grieve a future he could’ve had with Jasper.

Then, one night, at three in the morning, Noah called him to inform that the ritual will work this time. Because Jasper’s soul is whole again.

He immediately got into his car and drove to the cabin.

Hope began to burn once again, anxiety pooled in his stomach as they recite the incantation once again.

The wind had began to pick up, and it was so fast that it created a cyclone that wrapped around Jasper’s wispy body and lifted him into the air. For a moment, Lucas was terrified for him, irrational thoughts clouding his mind as he thought that the vortex could kill him instead of reviving him.

“Jasper!”

But as the vortex died down, he got a glimpse of what was really happening.

“Oh...”

“My...”

“God.”

Bones snapped into place, skin and flesh covered the body, until finally he was no longer a ghost.

The wind dies down, and Jasper, fully human, falls to the ground.

Lucas immediately rushes to his side, taking his head into his lap as overwhelming joy and relief filled every part of his body.

“Jasper! Jasper you’re here! Oh my god you’re here- sweetie I-”

He cuts himself off when he hears a groan, and he leans in to catch what he’s saying.

“What was that?”

“...water...”

Connor rushes to the cabin to grab some water bottles, and Noah tosses him a towel for him to wrap around Jasper’s shivering body.

A few moments later, Connor comes back with the bottles. Lucas helps him drink until he coughs after a few sips.

It hurts his heart.

“He’s completely exhausted and probably doesn’t remember what happened to him.” Ava looks at him with pity and concern. “You should bring him back to the cabin, I’ll check on him in the morning.”

Lucas nods, and looks back down at Jasper as his eyes open the slightest bit and his lips curl up into a smile.

“Lucas...I’ve missed you.”

“Pretty sure I’ve missed you more.”

Jasper laughs, and before his eyes close again, he lets out one last sentence.

“...you saved me...”

When Jasper’s unconscious again, Lucas strokes his hand across his cheek.

“I saved you...you’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.”

At long last, the prince no longer grieves.

At long last, the knight is saved.

[burnwater13]

Grogu was fascinated by starship design. From the small single person fighters and scout ships to the huge transports and industrial processing  centers, they all spoke to him. Mostly they said, wow, should resources have really been used this way? And then they said, we never thought anyone other than humans would fly us. Finally they said, sure if just one critical component fails the whole thing fails, but what of it? 

Okay, okay. They didn’t really talk to him like that but they did make him worry that the people who designed them weren’t always thinking about what the occupants needed. They didn’t even think about what the droids and mechs needed. That was a big cause for concern because it was pretty apparent to Grogu that the Imps, former or otherwise, didn’t like doing maintenance work and avoided it whenever possible. When you realized that their ships weren’t designed for maintenance it became much more understandable when they fell out of the sky like a rock. 

Now, Moff Gideon’s ship hadn’t done that. At least, not yet. But Grogu was pretty sure it would. Look at that thing! All sorts of angles and harsh planes. Nothing natural about it all.  It was just an engine, a cockpit and a couple of wings. Hurt anyone of those systems and the whole things fails. That wasn’t good design! Nope. It wasn’t. 

Now good design would have answered the question, what are we trying to do here? Then a bunch of things would have been recorded. Need to be able to fly in planetary atmosphere on a repeated basis. Need to be able to fly in the vacuum of space, also on a repeated basis. Need to… what? Hold cargo?, hold people? The choices there were pretty limited. Most cargo didn’t need life support systems, but all people did and some cargo did, other wise you wouldn’t have Rancors living on more than one planet.

Grogu laughed at that. He could just imagine the person designing the space craft that needed to move rancors from Dathomir to Tatooine. 

“Hmmmm, let’s see. You need to move twenty full grown Rancors, from here to uh… where? Tatooine. That’s a dessert planet. Rancors can’t thrive there. Oh, you want them for ‘pets’? And you’ll build them an appropriate enrichment center underground to keep them from getting sun and wind burned there? Well, I’m not really concerned about that, but does the ship need to remain on the planet for any length of time? After all designing for a jungle’s level of heat and humidity for a quick trip there is very different than designing for a holding facility that will be utilized until the proper enrichment center is constructed.”

Grogu laughed again. The voice in his head was kind of a cross between the Client’s and Greef Karga. Two men who had very specific ideas about what looked good and what was necessary. Then his dad’s voice popped into his head.

“Listen, what do you have available right now? I can make them cold if I have to.”

Yup, there was always someone willing to do the thing a completely different way. Didn’t make it better or worse. Just different. You needed to pay attention to those people because sometimes their ideas were great, but other times their ideas, well, they weren’t the thing any other designer would want to underwrite. Like the time Din Djarin used the N-1 to help Greef Karga put in a new entryway arch for Nevarro City. 

The old arch had been damaged by pirates, not Moff Gideon this time. High Magistrate Karga had been able to get a new one fabricated, but he didn’t have a crane, a work sled, or even the mechs to help with it. Grogu considered that just a problem that you had when you didn’t plan far enough ahead, but the High Magistrate managed to spin out a tale of woe that got Grogu’s dad to say,  “Let me help you out.”

Well, first they tried to just use Din’s flight pack. Grogu found that fascinating. But as much as they tried different rigging set ups and lengths and types of ropes and materials, Grogu was pretty sure that no matter what Din tried the arch only lifted up a 2 tenths of a meter. No where near far enough for it to be properly installed. 

Then, some of the other Mandos came over to help but that didn’t work either. They kept bumping into each other, getting burned, flying in the wrong direction. Din Djarin sent them home. Then he offered to use the N-1. 

Grogu could have told him that the N-1 wasn’t designed for that sort of work. He could have told him that heat of the exhaust would melt the strongest cable they had. He could have told him that hover mode in that ship caused a lot of vibration that could affect the foundations that had been created for the archway. But he didn’t. He was too busy healing the various injuries for the Mandos who helped earlier. 

So he wasn’t on hand to watch them attach the durasteel cable. He wasn’t there to remind them to put the thrust on it’s lowest setting. He was mostly sad that he missed being there to see Din position the archway and watch it fall onto the foundations and see them crumble into dust and the archway sink deeply into the ground. 

But he did see the finished product and leaned next to it and asked his dad to take a vid. The Mandalorian refused and stomped off. Grogu wondered what was bugging him. The  design was perfect. It was exactly the right height for Grogu to lean against and rest his hand on the ‘Welcome to Nevarro City’.  It looked great next to him.