#also sorry if i butchered her hair ;o;

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[churipu]

Hi, may i request jjk men s/o is like roxana agriche ? If you don't know her, she was described as a ravishingly beautiful young woman with wavy golden hair that reaches below her waist and long lashes framing her crimson eyes. She often wears elegant dresses with butterfly motifs. Thank youuuu,! ❤️

ROXANNE ! — JJK MEN AND THEIR "ROXANA AGRICHE" PARTNER

featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing

note. hi anon! i took some time into looking into roxana agriche and her personality. i could see sources saying she's a cunning person and somehow manipulative to get what she wants + she's mellow voiced and poised too. i don't read the series, so i hope i didn't butcher your request. thank you for requesting anon, i hope you enjoy this!

GOJO SATORU. he loves how calm you are at times — but with his energetic nature, on other times he feels like you should try to loosen up. sure you do laugh at his jokes, or pop a smile every once in a while. gojo loves you.

he just wishes you'd loosen up, with him. only him.

he finds your personality endearing and unique. that's why he fell in the first place, you managed to fool him the first time you both met — and ever since that day, he's been so interested in you (eventually falling in love with you).

you're such an unique person, with your various colored butterfly motive dresses that's now carved into a personality, your cool as a cucumber personality.

believe me when i said he took a long time chasing after you, trying to make you fall for him, he's done everything. get you chocolates, get you flowers, pizza, kikufuku. and one day you just accepted him and boom! he's your boyfriend.

but sometimes, he feels like he isn't. and it's starting to etch into his mind that you were just using him.

"satoru, are you listening to me?"

"are you using me?" you looked at him with that eyes of yours, that somehow looked so empty it scares gojo sometimes. you were silent, so gojo decided to speak again, "did you accept me out of pity?"

no. the answer is no. you do really like him, you're in love with him. people around you perceive you as someone cunning and manipulative — that you just had to...keep up with it. you felt like showing other things would be such a weakness.

"why are you saying that? have you been watching those sappy weird dramas again?" gojo heaved out a sigh.

"just because you say that you love me, doesn't mean i feel loved by you." okay, your relationship was in a verge of crumbling away right now and you honestly didn't know what to do, "are you listenin' to me. y/n?"

"i am."

"say something about it then."

it was either this whole personality, or gojo, "i do love you, satoru," you tell him, "and i apologize if i don't make you feel loved, that is completely a mistake in my part. you do a lot of things for me, and..i don't do as much for you. i apologize for that."

it will always be gojo over this whole personality, weakness and stuff.

hearing the word "apologize" made gojo flutter, you weren't really the type to apologize in the first place, so this all seemed like a fever dream to him, "i know 'm not doing much for you right now, but i do love you— and, i just...don't know how to show it to you. i'm so sorry."

you're a person of your own words, gojo felt loved, and you felt loved. it was a total win for the both of you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. he could care less about your whole personality or how much people hate it, in fact, your personality is one of the thing he loves most about you. other than that, there is one thing that he doesn't like about you.

he hates how beautiful you are. let's be real, as much as toji tries to show himself off as a bold and macho man — he's human too, and i feel like sometimes he feels a little insecure and scared. scared that you'll find someone better than him, then leave.

although he's never said that directly to your face, he shows it to you. and you knew, but also said nothing about his behavior. toji is an assassin, he's a sorcerer killer, he gets missions that required a long time. and in those times, he couldn't help but to think that you'll leave him to find someone better.

someone who could be there for you. someone obviously more perfect.

and as much as you don't show it to him, he's the most perfect. you'd never tell him that indirectly, but you show it through your actions. after all, actions do speak louder than words, right?

"what is your motive, toji?" you murmur into his shoulder— the male has been indubitably clingy for the past couple of hours, it was starting to get suspicious.

"what? 'm not allowed to hug my own partner now or something?" he retorted back.

"you're acting quite odd."

toji stayed mute. and it was obvious what he was doing, when everyone couldn't see right through him— there you were, reading him like an open book, "don't understand what you're talkin' 'bout."

you rubbed your hand on the back of his head, "i know you understand what i'm talking about," his body visibly flinches, but you paid no mind to that, your fingers trailing small circles on his nape, "what is it that you're afraid of?"

toji knew he could never lie to you, "you. leaving."

you pressed a kiss on to the side of his face, "well, you're worried over nothing. i'm not leaving you, not now at least."

toji pulls away, narrowing his eyes at you.

"hey, you never know when i'll die."

like hell toji would let that happen.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. like toji, he loves your personality — he's a brash person, and you were a cool headed person. name a better duo than that. often he'd find himself the one to ramble a lot in the relationship, complaining about how people are such shitty beings and how he'd rather be a rock.

one thing he despises is when people turn their heads to take a double-look at you whenever you both go out, it always annoyed him how people don't understand why he was there with you. or how it wasn't obvious enough that you were taken. by him.

"fucking shits."

you couldn't help but to smile at his fits of cursing, smiling lightly as you look up at him, "what's the matter?"

"'m seconds away from gauging their eyes.." sukuna mumbles out, scratching the back of his head sheepishly — he's a jealous person, there's no doubt to that of course, it's quite obvious is it not? what belongs to his is only his, nobody else's.

"how adorable."

sukuna despises it when you call him adorable, or how calm you are even if you know people turn their heads to look at you. he never asks you about it or why you never said anything to them, but he didn't like it, he wanted you to say something; show him off to these people, show him that he's yours too.

"are you jealous?"

"..no." hesitation was his enemy, with the slightest bit of pause — you could tell that he's lying through his words.

"do you perhaps want to go back home then?" home was the best place for you both (sukuna thinks, because he has your full attention and he doesn't have to worry about other people). he nodded his head and rolled his eyes.

"you should stop wearing these..dresses. wear them just for me," he mutters out.

"so you are jealous?"

"'m not. just saying."

he is jealous.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[rosemaidenvixen]

spooky prompts

Luz and claire scavenge halloween treats for their non-human-food compatible gf/bf.

Gus illusions make it possible for jim to participate in halloween prep.

Hunter uses palisman carving skills to carve jack-o-lanterns.

Hunter or Jim are frankenstein monsters au.

Morganna but she has bloody mary ghost vibes.

Halloween house decorating contest (could be a crossover???)

Vee gets to enjoy a nice autumn walk and nothing bad happens to her

Vee enjoys an autumn walk

Hunter as Frankenstein's monster

Bloody Mary Morgana

Hunter carves jack o lanterns

Gus uses illusions for Jim

Halloween house competition

Luz and Claire scavenging treats for their non human so's answered below

Ao3

Luz followed Claire as they wove their way through the farmer’s market. It really wasn’t a good time to come here, it was the middle of the day and the crowds were at their worst. And the large cooler Claire was hauling didn’t help anything. But half an hour ago she’d made an offhand comment about how hard it was finding treats she could surprise Amity with in the human realm, then Claire had piped up with how she used to have the same problem with Jim, and one thing had led to another and now they were here. Claire with leading the way to score some interspecies eats.

Because Claire wasn’t any ordinary human, she could do magic.

Humans. Doing magic in the humana realm. Every time she thought about it it sent a little thrill of excitement through her. She still hadn’t had the change to properly ask Claire some of the many many questions she had, but she’d have plenty of chances while she and the gang were in Cali–

“Sorry again, for…everything,” Claire spoke up, startling Luz out of her thoughts “I let myself get carried away and took things way too far, and you guys can stay here in Arcadia as long as you need to,”

Luz struggled but couldn’t quite keep the wince off her face as they ducked past shoulders and weaved through the crowd. She was thrilled to meet other human magic users and learn about the way magic in the human realm worked. But she really wished that they’d met under better circumstances.

And she really really wished that part of the reason she and the gang were visiting Arcadia wasn’t because they were waiting for the heat to die down back east.

Shaking her head, Luz forced the grimace away “Hey water under the bridge, and it wasn’t all your fault, there were…mistakes on both sides. And as soon as the fire marshall finishes their investigation we’ll be home free,”

Although even if the buildings were all fixed they’d never be able to get all the abomination goop out of the carpet and off the drywall.

Some stains never came out.

Claire gave her a small smile at her right as she came to a stop at a stand on the far end of the market, turning her grin towards the stall owner “Hola Jorge,”

The stall owner, a man with brown skin and graying black hair dressed in flannel and jeans, stood from the cooler he was stooped over and stepped towards them “Hola Claire great to see you, I’ve got a cooler around back all set up for you,”

“Thanks! You’re the best,”

Claire walked around the tent, Luz following on her heels, until they came to a small semi truck with a large cooler on the ground in front of it.

“So you know the guy who runs this place?” Luz asked.

“Kind of,” Claire got down on her knees and popped open the cooler, rummaging through its contents “Jorge runs a farm just outside of Arcadia, small scale sustainable meat farming kind of thing. He was the first guy I went to about getting some of the discards from butchering. Now we’ve got a regular thing set up,”

Luz glanced to the left and right, kneeled down right next to Claire, and leaned over to whisper in her ear “So does he know about….”

“Magic and trolls? I don’t think so, but I’m pretty sure he suspects, either way I think he’d be cool with it,”

Claire sat back on her haunches, giving Luz a full view of the cooler’s contents “I wasn’t sure what troll food also works as witch food, but I figured discard parts would be a good place to start,”

“What….parts specifically?”

In response Claire lifted out a plastic bag filled to bursting with eyeballs.

“Oooh that looks great!” Luz plucked the bag out of Claire’s hand “Amity loves eyeball pudding, oh man this will be such a great surprise for her–”

It took her a few seconds to remember Claire’s presence “Sorry, yeah, she loves eyeballs,”

Claire giggled “No worries, mind helping me pack up?”

They finished loading up their cooler from Jorge’s, Luz didn’t think that the gang would be able to digest some of the bones Claire was packing up, but she was really looking forward to trying some of the organ meats. And the eyeballs were destined to a big bowl of eyeball pudding with Amity’s name on it.

After giving Jorge a large stack of cash they were back on their way, pulling a much heavier cooler behind them.

“Hey I know this is a bit of a stretch,” Luz asked as they walked away “But I’ve really been wanting to make Amity a fairy pie, but I didn’t think the human realm had fairies, but maybe you know a substitute?”

Claire tapped her chin with her free hand “Pixies might work, do they have those on the Boiling Isles? Here they’re tiny creatures that will fly into your head and make you see your worst fear,”

“Not really but they do have Grometheus the fear bringer who takes the shape of your greatest fear, he lives under the school, and every year the Grom King or Queen has to fight him so he doesn’t escape,”

“Wow, remind me to never complain about the Spring fling royalty challenge again,”

“Wait till I tell you how me and Amity became Grom Queens! So back to pixies, do we catch them ourselves or…”

“I think we might be able to pick them up at our next stop, along with swamp maggots and fungi, I have a feeling your friends will really like those,”

“Next stop?” Luz blinked back at her “Where else are we going?”

Claire just gave her a sly grin.

--

Luz just stared with her jaw hanging open, the sight before her so incredible all she could do was stand there and stare with her jaw on the ground. When Claire had brought her to the underpass of a canal bridge she hadn’t known what to think, then Claire had drawn a door in the concrete and brought her here. To a glowing magical crystal city right underneath Arcadia!

They had told them about Trollmarket, promised to bring them there, but Luz had never imagined it was so close, or so sparkly.

Claire chuckled as Luz tried to figure out how to pick her jaw up off the ground “Yeah it’s pretty cool isn’t it, we all had that reaction the first time,” she picked up the cooler with both handles “Ready to head in?”

Luz finally managed to shut her mouth and struggled to find her voice.

She was absolutely stoked to go explore a human world magical city, but her first day in the Boiling Isles had taught her a lot about taking things at face value.

“So is there any troll etiquette I should know? I don’t want to insult anyone’s mother by using my pinky finger wrong,”

“I don’t think so, most trolls are pretty chill if you leave them alone, sort of a ‘don’t bother me I won’t bother you’ sort of thing. Oh! But when they introduce themselves as ‘Son or daughter of so-and-so’ that’s how they give you their pronouns. And misgendering usually results in being thrown in a sinkhole,”

“Misgendering leads to sinkhole,” Luz gave a solemn nod “Understood,”

Heading into the market, Luz saw it was made up of various stalls and booths carved into the rock themselves. Stone was the most common building material, but here and there were bits of metal and wood, along with the occasional crystals. Pictographic neon signs indicated what each booth sold, some of them were easy to figure out, like the fish or the beer glass, but some of them, like the sock and the dead cat filled her with more questions than answers. Milling around were large stone creatures of every shape and size in every color of the rainbow, trolls. There were also…little men in pointy hats running around?

Claire followed her line of sight “Oh yeah, gnomes, they eat parasites off larger trolls, not overly dangerous but don’t touch their hats, that makes them super aggressive,”

Luz nodded, gingerly stepping around the small cluster of pointed red hats and followed Claire inside a small cave off the main building.

Stepping inside, Luz saw it looked like a fantasy version of a convenience store, with various items seemingly random lining the shelves, and a large curvy troll standing behind the counter.

“Hi Bagdwella,” Claire stepped up to the counter and gestured behind her “This is Luz, I’m showing her around shopping for some interspecies eats,”

“Hi, Luz daughter of Camila here,” Luz gave a small wave and joined Claire at the counter.

“Greetings Luz,” the troll folded their arms in front of them “I am Bagdwella, daughter of Gerdr, and I know this market better than anyone else and would be delighted to give you the inside scoop,”

“Oh that’s gre–”

“Up up up,” Bagdwella held up a hand “You didn’t let me finish, I would be delighted to give you the inside scoop, for the right price,”

Without missing a beat Claire reached into her backpack and pulled out a large plastic bag full of…socks? Ok between this and the neon sign  she was definitely going to have to ask Claire about the socks later. Handing it over to Bagdwella “Half now, half once we’re done. To make sure your intel’s as good as you say it is,”

Bagdwella raised the bag and gave it an sniff before turning an appraising glance towards Claire “Claire you are a devious, cold blooded customer,” she grinned, exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth “I taught you well,”

Tucking the bag underneath the table, Bagdwella stepped forward, both hands on the table “So what are you ladies in the market for today?”

“Do you know anyone who sells pixies?” Luz piped up right away “I have a recipe I really want to try with them,”

“I need to get some swamp maggots,” Claire added “And I want to check out different types of fungi,”

Bagdwella tapped her chin in thought, stone clinking against stone “Do you want fermented or plain swamp maggots?”

“Ideally some of both,”

After a few more seconds Bagdwella pulled a pen out of her hair and started scribbling on a scrap of paper in front of her “Braggis has the best fungus selection, so you’ll want to go to his stand. For swamp maggots you need to go to Til and Rags next to the apothecary, they don’t have a lot of stock but their swamp maggots are the highest quality in the market. Pixies are a bit trickier. No one really stocks them, but Dex down near the armory preserves pixies on the side, ask him about it and he’ll be delighted to sell you some, but he will talk your ear off,”

“Oh wow,” Luz picked up the scrap of paper “This is great, thank you!”

Bagdwella chuckled “You can thank me by never buying from my competitors. Now you’re crowding paying customers out of my shop, so unless you’re going to buy something shoo!”

Luz and Claire retreated as Bagdwella waved them off, Claire hauling the cooler and Luz still clutching the paper.

“Soooo….fermented swamp maggots?”

Claire giggled “Yeah even for trolls those are an acquired taste, but Jim likes them,”

“Well then, let's get shopping!”

[spectrumos]

You're being silly. (sorry if that sounds confrontational, that's not my intent.) But that's just likely because of a lack of information.

Edit: I looked at your profile and saw that you're playing through the dlc slowly, so there's a significant chance you haven't gathered all the information and I apologize for my tone. I'll still leave this post up, but if you ask that I delete it I'm totally okay with that.

Obviously, there's potentially large spoilers below relative to what items you've collected and places you've been.

The pots in the lands between are different from the pots in the land of shadow for quite a few reasons.

the ones made by the hornsent and their potentates in the land of shadow are a religious ritual using terrible practices of whipping and cutting the Shamans in an attempt to turn them into saints. This process doesn't kill the victims. Additionally, the seal/lid on the top is spiraling and twisted, like the crucible.

listed below are item descriptions and quotes of ghosts related to the whole thing in the lands of shadow, in no particular order.

"For pity's sake, your place is in the jar. Nigh-sainthood itself awaits you within. For shamans like you, this is your lot. Life were you accorded for this alone." - Ghost at the whipping hut.

"Oh please. Not the jar... Anything but that! I promise. I won't ever do it again! I swear - a living saint I'll surely be! Please... you must forgive me. Forgive me, please." - Ghost in Belurat gaol

"Grotesque mask constructed from countless solidified caterpillars. A ritual implement of the greater potentates of Bonny Village. Used to ward off thoughts of impurity, doubt, temptation, and other wickednesses one is vulnerable to while absorbed in divine ritual." - Caterpillar mask.

"Weapon of the greater potentates of Bonny Village. An outsize butcher's cleaver used to dismember human bodies in the making of the great jars stored in the gaols." - Bonny butchering knife.

"Whip bestrewn with rotting, misshapen teeth. Filthy and seething with disease, the teeth are embedded in the whip and dose the victim with deadly poison upon each strike. As the wounds ripen they grow inflamed and ooze pus. The flesh of shamans was said to meld harmoniously with others." - Tooth whip.

"A greatjar which fits comfortably over the head when upturned. Attire of the shamans who perform their worship at gaols. Increases the power of thrown pots of all sizes. They offer their prayers to the innards of the greatjars, such that they might be reborn one day into sainthood. This is the cycle of death and rebirth, taken into the hands of mortal men." - Greatjar helmet.

Bonny village also features a statue where you get the "O mother" gesture. (This is mostly unrelated but a weird thing is that near that statue is a large snakeskin. Don't know it's relation to other snakes but i find it suspicious that it's so near Bonny village.)

Additionally there's the items at the Shaman village.

"Secret incantation of Queen Marika. Only the kindness of gold, without Order.

Creates a small, illusory Erdtree that continuously restores the HP of nearby allies.

Marika bathed the village of her home in gold, knowing full well that there was no one to heal." - Minor Erdtree incantation.

"A braid of golden hair, cut loose. Queen Marika's offering to the Grandmother. Boosts holy damage negation by the utmost. What was her prayer? Her wish, her confession? There is no one left to answer, and Marika never returned home again." - Golden Braid talisman.

ALRIGHT now that that's done we can move on to the jars in the lands between.

"A fragment of a living jar, hardened after its death. Material used for crafting items.

Such fragments command a high price due to the magical power locked within. This leaves the living jars unfortunate targets for poachers." - Living jar shard.

"Shard of a shattered warrior jar.

Boosts the attack power of skills.

Scraps of stewed flesh cling to the shard, and tatters of ornaments can be seen mingled within the slime. Relics of ancient royal warriors, perhaps." - Warrior jar shard.

"A talisman given by the jars to their friends. Raises potency of thrown jars.

Though the jars are brought to life by human flesh and blood, they are all rather kindly folk. Perhaps they were made to be better than their innards." - Companion jar talisman.

"Jar that fits cleanly over the head when upturned. Made with pride by Iron Fist Alexander.

In a uniquely jarlike gesture of friendship, it boosts the power of throwing pot items." Jar helmet.

"A charm that resembles a great jar overflowing with weaponry. Vastly boosts maximum equipment load.

The great jar grants this talisman to their warriors. Carry as much as you can — grow big and strong." - Greatjar arsenal charm.

"A keepsake of the warrior jar Alexander. Found at the core of the dead flesh that once filled the great jar.

The jars contain dregs inherited from those who came before. Thus are warriors passed from jar to jar, carrying dreams of greatness." - Alexander's innards.

"Shard of the late Alexander, a shattered warrior jar.

Greatly boosts the attack power of skills.

Scraps of stewed flesh cling to the shard, and tatters of ornaments can be seen mingled within the slime. Relics of a red-haired champion, it would seem." - Shard of Alexander.

"Ah, I see you've finally made it here yourself. The city hanging in the air is slowly crumbling. What an incredible place we find ourselves.

But that aside, you're certainly a force to be reckoned with, eh. I doubt there's a single soul who could've handled that giant, other than you. It was practically a god... Of course I count myself, the great Alexander, among the many.

Which means, I've but one thing to ask of you. Would you kindly undertake my ordeal?

Come and tell me when you're ready. I've been longing to fight a warrior as accomplished as you. You are ready then, I take it? Then let us begin!

I am the great jar warrior, Iron Fist Alexander! Lend me strength, O warriors within! Let us become one champion, together!" Alexander's dialogue in Farum Azula.

The jars in the lands between also have a different seal on top.

Depicting the Erdtree.

This leads to a conclusion. The jars of the lands between are made from the dead. And the warrior jars are made explicitly from dead warriors.

The presence of jars near Minor Erdtrees has lead many (including me) to the conclusion that the purpose of the jars is Erdtree burial, the internment of the departed to the roots of the Erdtree for their souls to be taken in by it. Whether Erdtree burial provides an afterlife, rebirth, or the Erdtree simply consumes the souls, we don't know.

But the thing is that it's a known cultural practice, the warriors of the Golden Order and likely it's civilians as well, know this is the fate of their corpses and consent to such a fate. This makes it mostly more ethical, even if the souls are consumed by the Erdtree. I also like to believe that when the jars take the souls to the Erdtree, their amalgam personality lives on.

My own personal headcanon on why the practice changed and lived on in the lands between is that there was a kind Potentate that hated the practice. He followed Marika to the lands between and turned the monstrous practice into something good and honorable. Turning old life into new life in the form of the jarfolk, who are all rather kindly people.

To be a potentate in the lands between is to create the jars with soft hands and the utmost kindness. To be a shepherd.

Sorry for the length, I'm very passionate about Elden Ring lore!

Anyone else thinking about how in Elden Ring the Jars were all hiding away in a secret village because they were being hunted by poachers for their innards and growing rare flowers, and when we meet Jarbairn he says that we can't be a potentate because we don't have smooth silky hands but instead the hands of a warrior and thats no good for becoming a potentate. And then Diallos quest-line happens and it becomes apparent that he isn't a fighter and takes up being the caretaker of the Jars making it very apparent that a potentate is supposed to be someone who has a gentle heart and is akin to a craftsmen/nurturer of the Jars, which ends in Diallos dying in order to protect them?

And now in SotE the potentates are actually naked giant cleaver wielding butchers who chop people up to stuff them inside of the Jars?

Because I sure am.

[ichayalovesyou]

Hey 💙🖖🏻

I just found you today, and absolutely love your writing, I think I just binge read your Pike fics today 🤭🔥

I also saw that you're taking requests... I might have an idea for you...

Captain Pike going apeshit because you got captured by bad people? Nothing specific, I leave it up to you... Any relationship, platonic, love etc... Getting hurt badly or not... Anything and everything is up to you 😉

(if you don't like the idea, I understand that too💙💕)

Aw geez thanks 😅 I got the warm fuzzies watching you barrel through my fics the other day! I appreciate it! ALSO are you kiddin’?! That sounds delicious! This is one of my all time fav tropes, I got you covered pal-o!

Revenging Angel (Pike x Reader)

Rating: Teen and up (Violence)

Word Count: 1.1k

Content: SFW, angst, hurt/comfort, whump, GN!Reader, Medical!Reader, established relationship (romantic), Protective!Pike, torture by neglect, stabbing, blood, spoilers for SNW 1x07 “The Serene Squall”

Teaser: You're a medical officer aboard the Enterprise whom Captain Angel has kidnapped in order to treat their wounded lover, and as revenge on Pike for causing a mutiny on the Squall. Hopefully he can save you before it's too late!

“Since your Boy Scout’s little mutiny sent my last medic for a zero gravity swim, you’ll have to do. If you fail to save my husband’s life. You’ll be joining her long before the Enterprise even knows you're gone.”

That was two days, and four hours ago. That’s how long you’d been confined to this butcher’s shop they called a sick bay on the Squall. No food, no water, just medieval quality surgical tools to heal this mad captain’s Vulcan lover, then being left in here to die.

They would have to tend to you eventually right? After all, you have a highly valued life in your hands, rather, you had. You lost that bargaining chip the minute you kept your Hippocratic Oath.

But you knew why Angel chose you.

It was to get to Chris, to throw the Captain off his game.

Monsters like Angel loved to manipulate people, you had heard that they’d managed to manipulate and take Mr. Spock of all people hostage the last time Enterprise encountered these pirates. They seemed to have a thing for using love as a bargaining chip.

The only thing keeping you from caving in was knowing in your bones that the Enterprise was coming for you, that Chris was coming for you. That he would come even if you were a stranger to him. It was part of who he was.

So you waited.

When you woke up again, you thought you were delirious, after all, it had been a long time since you had any water. Sounded like fighting, was that phaser fire? You prayed it was another mutiny, especially when Angel and her Vulcan squeeze burst into this poor excuse for a sick bay they’d chained you to.

Then you heard familiar voices, Noonien-Singh’s crisp English accent barking orders, and-

Oh thank god, it was Chris!

“Captain Angel! Release Doctor Y/N and Xavierus, come quietly and we can discuss the terms of your surrender.”

The Captain’s normally leveled command tone was laced with a sharp bark reserved only for when he was at his angriest. He was breathing heavily, the blood on his cheek wasn’t his own. You hoped he hadn’t been forced to do anything he would regret.

“Sorry Captain Pompadour, you only get one.”

If looks could kill, and it wasn’t about the hair jab. When you made eye contact with him, you watched Chris regain some of his composure with the confirmation you were alive, if not well.

“That’s not how this works-“

“Aw! You make it sound like I’m giving you a choice! Better end this before it gets boring.”

It happened so fast, yet it felt like slow motion, Angel whirled around with lightning speed, necklace in one hand, and blade in the other, driving it into the side of Chris’s neck.  

When you tried to scream “No!'' It was La’an’s voice that came out. She rounded the corner as Chris fell, trying to body check Angel as they vanished, transported away mid-tackle. The mysterious Vulcan followed suit.

La’an bitterly remarked about the Captain not following protocol. You barely even heard her, you were too consumed by the sound of Chris struggling to breathe. A twisted part of you was relieved that choking on his own blood meant he was still alive.

Your hands shook, wanting to stay the bleeding but knowing one wrong nudge would drive the blade into his carotid. And that would be it.

You trained for years, seen dying people beneath your hands and had spared them. But you had nothing now, no strength, no wits, and worst of all no equipment, not anything that could save him anyway. You winced at all the times you berated him…

You’d never been there when it happened, not like this, not when it was your life he was trying to save. You weren’t prepared for this.

“La’an, no time, he’s dying.” You begged hoarsely. Her eyes widened as she quickly registered the severity of the Captain’s condition.

“Kyle! Two for emergency medical transport! It’s the Captain.”

As the golden light of the transport beam engulfed you both, you heard her say

“Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

Maybe that was reassuring for her, but not for you. The only thing that could fight the growing numbness was Chris coming out of this alive.

You didn’t fight your coworkers when they gently pulled the two of you apart. Firstly because you didn’t have the strength. Secondly because you knew you had to recover first if you wanted to help him. And last of all

You trusted your family. Chris was well-loved, nobody in this room would forgive themselves if they couldn’t pull him through. You especially.

You got a drug induced full night’s rest for the first time in what felt like months. You were given a rapid rehydration and anti-malnutrition diet to compensate for the days you spent on the Squall. But, with lucidity came anxiety.

After loudly and stubbornly fulfilling the stereotype of doctors being terrible patients. You were permitted to do some very light data pad work in sickbay, where you could keep an eye on Chris.

The better part of a day has passed. You had settled into the unfocused dullness of busywork when a sharp gasp followed by a coughing fit made you drop everything.

Chris was awake! He tried to sit up, looking disoriented and afraid, no surprise considering how much danger there’d been the last time he was conscious. You moved so fast you practically transported to his side.

“Easy Chris, just lay back down, you lost a lot of blood.”

The Captain looked puzzled but relieved, he listened to you. He took your hand, normally he was so strong, but you could sense the exhaustion in his grip.

“You alright?” he asked “How long?” his voice cracked, it was practically non-existent, the strain was breaking your heart.

“Don’t try to speak. M’Benga and Christine have been taking excellent care as usual, but, we’re both still healing. You managed to take more damage from that pirate in five seconds than I did in two days. How’s that for unlucky?”

He glanced at you, half amused, half exasperated.

“Alright alright, you’ve been out for a little less than 24 hours, and you’ll be out of sick bay in a couple days IF you behave yourself. And since I’m confined to light labor only until I’m back in good condition…”

You circled the biobed, not letting go of his hand, and kissed him on the forehead.

“I’ll be sticking around doing absolutely nothing else, just to ensure you do.”

He laughed weakly, your hands broke away as you sat right next to him in sick bay. You had every intention of getting back to work, but you couldn’t take your attention off of him. So eventually you just gave up.

It was time to enjoy the quiet, no words, just the comfort of the mutual knowledge that both of you were breathing. Pirates, and paperwork, could wait forever for all you cared.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[buckydeniro]

BestFriendsDad!Bucky x Reader

A/N: i’m still working on part two of This Is Trouble and also the actual dfb!bucky series i want to write because i’m having a bit of writer’s block but! i wanted to post something because i felt bad that it’s taking so long agdkdhdjdh this kinddd of got away from me a bit i’m sorry if it’s way too long sgskdhdkdj

summary: you were just trying to bake secret cupcakes for your best friend for her secret birthday party but mr. barnes had to, like always, make it difficult.

trigger warnings: sexual tension, hints to sexy time, beginning of sexy time at the end, FLUFFFFFF, they are cute ok like wtf damn i’m alone

“You’re doing it wrong”

That stupid smirk with a voice. You internally sigh, stopping the mixing of the cupcake batter for your best friend’s, his daughter’s, surprise birthday party. Looking up at the ceiling, preparing yourself for Mr. Barnes to exhaust you with his teasing remarks.

Absolutely, no doubt you found him attractive, incredibly attractive. There have been your fair share of nights with your hand between your thighs and him in your mind.

“I’m not doing it wrong, asshat.” The last part you mumbled under your breath but he caught it, throwing his head back with a good laugh. You take a risk and flick your gaze to him, inhaling deeply at the sight of him leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, watching you, a full smile on his face. You were always bickering with each other, all in good fun but you both knew that it was just to get some of the tension, that you both never brought up, out.

Rolling your eyes, turning back to the task at and, you try your best to focus when he starts walking towards you. “Asshat? I’ll let it slide.” He’s standing beside you, hands pressed to the counter, watching you stir as best as you can with his intoxicating self right beside you, causing your movements to falter.

“If you have something to say then say it.” He suppresses a cocky grin, loving how easy he can rile you up. “I’ve already said it, you’re doing it wrong, but I guess I have to show you. Move.”

“No.”

He barks out a laugh at the quick, clipped reply.

“C’mon, move.” You stand up straighter, half in defiance and half in trying to hide your body’s reaction when he removes his hands from the counter and god, he’s full on smirking now. You a hum a no which causes him to roll his eyes, “Fine.”

As quick as he said it, his hands are burning their signature into your waist, picking you up and moving you aside, sitting you and your now gaping mouth back down on your feet, squeaking out a shocked, “Hey!”

Chuckling, he slides his long fingers around the handle of the whisk that you are now barely holding on to. “Now,” He starts with an at eased smile, eyes locked on yours before he plucks the whisk from you and goes to the bowl. “You do it like this.”

You hate yourself. You absolutely hate yourself in this moment because all you can focus on is the way his hand is gripping the handle and moving it. Swallowing, pulling your eyes away from his hands, you mutter, “I was doing fine.”

A bold lie. Right through your teeth. You knew you somehow butchered up stirring. Fucking stirring. All because he was in the same room with you, burning a deadly stare through you.

Pausing his movements to laugh, he looks at you with those crinkles beside his eyes, proof of the huge smile you’re giving him.

And you can’t help but give up and let yourself smile back, chuckling to yourself now.

“Honey, I mean this in the nicest way possible.” Turning to rest his hip against the counter, his fingers lifting to brush your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear as he speaks. “You can’t bake for shit.”

You gasp, mouth falling into an o shape. “It’s! It’s not my fault!” You defend yourself as he crosses his arms over his chest, still resting against the counter, highly amused at your reaction. “Oh, it’s not?”

“No! And how was that the nicest way possible!”

Squinting your eyes at him as he laughs, grumbling under your breath. “I’ve made cupcakes before.”

“Mhm, sure you have, doll.”

“I have!”

Your heartbeat thumps wildly against your chest at the second pet name he’s called you not even within three minutes. Cocking his head to the side, still smiling. God, you want to wipe it off his face or kiss it off. You can’t decide.

You huff, turning away from him, busying yourself with folding a little towel, your cheeks heating up, feeling him study the side of your face. “You have to stop doing that.”

He’s a bit perplexed at your words, “Doing what?” God, this was so embarrassing. You’re going to have to actually say it. “Calling me honey and doll!”

“And why’s that?” Cockiness replacing his confusion in a blink of an eye. You have half the mind to just turn to him and tell him, because I already constantly think about you railing me and your best friends dad so that can’t happen. Oh! I’ve also masturbated to you and want to jump your bones and kiss you every time you walk into the room. Did I mention you make my body feel like it’s on fire without even touching me? No? Well, You make my body feel on fire without even touching me.

But, you choose to not go that route. Yet, you do turn to face him, “Because!” Great, you sound like a petulant child. Which is the exact opposite how you want him to view you. “You’re my best friends dad! You’re not supposed to make me feel stuff!”

“Yes, I’m aware of the title I have.”

You shoot him a glare.

He stares at you for a while, his eyes unreadable, dancing with something that sparkles. “Fuck it.” He shrugs, voice soft, gentle, matter of fact.

“What?” You release your bottom lip, having been biting it in anticipation of what he was going to say.

“Fuck it.” Blue eyes shining, that smile returning. “You are too good to pass by.” Your heart does a backflip, unable to conceal your smile. He brushes your hair from your face, something more is hanging between you two. Something more than just sex. But you both don’t mention it for the time beginning. It was too soon. “So, fuck it.”

Both doe eyed and grinning wildly at each other, “Fuck it.” You say.

“Fuck it.” He replies and you both begin laughing at the giddiness.

You both just stand there, in the middle of the kitchen, his fingers in your hair, the kitchen light a spotlight for the shared goofy smiles. Then he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing!”

Undeterred, he walks briskly and with purpose to his bedroom. “Showing you how too good you are to pass by.”

“What about the cupcakes!”

He jogs smoothly up the stairs, “We’ll go buy some from the store.”

It’s like he knows you’re about to throw a comment back and he beats you to it. “Besides, you suck at baking.”

“Are you kidding me!” The biggest smiles permanently displayed on both of your faces, laughing happily at each other. He gently kicks the door open and sits you down, your voices growing louder and your bodies moving closer, “I’m just saying the truth!” Words tumbling out the best they can through laughter and face hurting smiles, both of you speaking over the other, firing quips at left and right.

“The truth!”

“I’m being honest!”

“Honest!”

“Stop repeating what I’m saying! Is that all you can do!”

“I’ll repeat whatever you say if I want to! Don’t tell me what to do-“

His lips slam into yours, shutting you up. “Take off your clothes, right now. I mean it, do it.”

Completely taken back by the kiss, lips tingling, your core aching, clenching around nothing. You choke out, “On it.”

He snorts and you go to swat at his chest but he catches your wrist. “Finally found a way to shut you up.”

That stupid smirk.

“So fuck me until I can’t talk. That’s another way.”

That stupid smirk, wiped from his face and now displaying itself proudly on yours. His pupils grow dark, hunger and full on lust in his eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re really in for it.”

[veryinnovative]

GOING INSANEEEE GOING INSANE. i need 2 backtrack to the light absorption. i MUST. bc u have sated viktor not understanding why jayce is tripping over his own feet, pulling open drawers nd shit obviously looking for candles, muttering to himself. i think that-- part of this. should remain in human form and that light sources react to his emotions!! i just think it would be soooo sexy. we must keep that

the blanket......it'd be so funny if viktor's species have this mating ritual that is like. A specific amount of gifts equates to a potential partner trying to court you. a few gifts indicates friendship/alliance but once a certain maximum is reached it's like. Final. the XYZ month mating ritual has started. also the realization of cold is SO sexy of you im so serious....i can imagine human viktor realizing he has a lung capacity now and--god, he has to BREATHE. he needs air. so it's him huffing puffing struggling like he's run a marathon till it steadies and he figures out how to breathe. [ofc jayce can sleep through a hurricane so he doesn't realize viktor is very much trying not to die in his newly acquired human form] the thing abt viktor not knowing how to use his hands or limbs or anything is so cute rly bc he is like a baby doe and so gangly just rolling over the floor and burrito-ing himself. also adapting to his environment bc it is Dark and he cant see Shit but can only hear Jayce's slight snoring and the gentle barely-there thrum of the fridge and other electronics, the draft of the wind outside, and anything else his human ears pick up on.

its the way jayce CANNOT catch a break. his stubble has turned into a beard. bags under his eyes. cant remember the last time he had a proper shower instead of a quick baby towel wipe-down. he wakes up,, expecting today is the day he can finally shave and wash his hair and enjoy the warm stream of water but no. no bc life hates him. and there's a naked man on his floor blinking up at him wrapped in a blanket he gave the alien he was accomodating. gorgeous, yes. unknown? also yes. he doesn't even scream at this point. they just share eye contact and jayce has this little mental breakdown laugh bc why not? life's got it absolutely against him. he is almost-yelling at the man 'what are you doing here' and 'how did you get in' and 'oh my god are you--there is an ALIEN in this house you need to LEAVE' only for his rambling to be broken by a hungry growl of viktor's stomach..who after a stretch of silence goes... 'f-o-o-d' in the exact same manner jayce had when he first tried feeding viktor in the lab and that's when everything dawns on him. and of course that is the perfect moment caitlyn of all people come barging into his apartment bc ofc she has the keys

shitshow 19.24234 spirals out of control of course bc caitlyn is going 'oh! oh. i didn't know--seriously jayce, you could have warned me at least' and jayce is waving his arms like 'it's not what you think it is--really. it--' 'dont call your hookup an it, jayce! he's right there' 'no, you don't get it. it--he--whatever is an alien!' 'what--'

and in the meantime viktor is trying to grapple his way up to his wobbly legs, not at all understanding what the humans are saying bc caitlyn nd jayce are still in a heated discussion of 'seriously your phone's been turned off for two days now your mom got worried!' 'she better be because there is an alien in my house' 'if you call him an alien one more time'

i dont know. i think caitlyn brushes past jayce and to viktor to talk to him. of course, viktor doesn't understand shit. he's hungry and confused and can only pinpoint they're displeased with one another. caitlyn is talking to him like. 'im sorry he called you that. idk whats wrong with him his mom deffo raised him better. he's being such an ass he is probably just tired.' and gradually gets confused and concerned bc viktor is just staring blankly at her before mimicking jayce from xyz days ago and going 'food' with a very butchered pronunciation [also of course rubbing over his stomach bc that's what jayce did to act out hunger when he first trying feeding him] and caitlyn goes awfully quiet. and the room is quiet. and they're all staring at each other. and jayce thinks he is about the have an aneurysm. and caitlyn very quietly goes 'jayce. why do you have an alien in your room?' and jayce tries explaining, although not very well and then caitlyn interrupts and goes 'jayce. why do you have an alien in your room. naked?'

and then hell really breaks out between them in the most sibling-like manner of disputes and in the background u just have viktor shuffling over the floor trying to walk. [i think that his existing injury/condition should also transfer to his human form. meaning he needs a cane or smth to support him in his gait] so now he's just clinging to the walls, babysteps, trying to aim for the kitchen bc he remembers jayce storing food there.

this is getting so awfully long ims o sorry but i think that by the time caitlyn and jayce finish talking, they hear a little crash coming from the kitchen and whirl around their heads to see a pot's lid on the floor and viktor eating leftover kraft mac and cheese with his hands. raises his stained fingers to them before going 'food'. caitlyn punches jayce in the shoulder nd murmurs 'give him some clothes'

@wordsofwilderness tag <3

okay so for alien!viktor do we think that jayce was messing with hexcore/tech and that’s what brought viktor into his world? or do we think hexcore is something that pops into existence alongside viktor? or it’s like kryptonite for him??? or something else??? omg my brain is quivering i am so close to abandoning all my responsibilities just to churn out a fic w this concept auuuuUgH 🗣️

me dropping my work immediately after receiving this msg:

ok. Okay. i think . jayce uncovers hexcore/tech and tinkers with it, not knowing that a certain rune sequence in combination with, i don't know, a certain component (time of the day. maybe also blood. whatever it may be. some other artifact they once retrieved, etc etc) triggers it to activate as this one-way passage that pretty much DRAGSSSS viktor to earth in jayce's lab. mayhaps he arrives in a vegetative state as we discussed and comes to be in a span of a few days while jayce studies him/tries not to freak out/refuses to sleep for the entirety of said x days

curious tall alien viktor crawling over jayce......who is sprawled on the floor bc he tripped nd fell in his shock... you know how we as humans can coo on small beings nd just wanna. Touch. that is viktor. jayce also mistakes his thrumming sound for like,, him wanting to Eat/Kill him or smth and tries not to pass out.....vik's long talon-like fingers carefully dragging down jayce's scalp to his face...to his neck......the pad gently pressing into his pulse there bc what is this curious jack-rabbit-y feel.....

anyways...ANYWAYS.. [pulling up a google docs for us]

[ficsnroses]

Ultrasound; - John Wick x Reader

4.3k words

summary : you’re 4 months pregnant, and your husband john is everything you’ve ever wanted. however, he misses your ultrasound appointment, leading to you being upset with him.

warnings : pregnant reader. angst, but also lots of fluff! x f! reader. 

notes : requested by lovely anon! I really hope you enjoy this, lovie. I know you had asked for a heated argument, however, I just couldn’t bring myself to write John being angry at his s/o. he’s too much of a softie :) as always, please do leave comments and feedback, it means so much! I’m a little nervous for this one aH be kind pls ily xx

At the glass paned, brittle white front door, you stand, a cautious hand placed to the swell of your growing belly, a stray strand of hair falling to your eye as your husband John, kisses a gentle goodbye to your cheek.

“Are you sure you have to go?” You ask, off put, shining eyes with your lip bitten, as if you’d wanted to say more. John had been leaving on early mornings such as today often, far more frequent as of late; you’d be lying if you’d projected it didn’t chip off a small shard of your heart each time he’d leave you for the day.

He’d be back, later. In the evening perhaps, after you’d settled into the cozy depths of the living room couch, a sickly dessert in hand and your preferred 90’s sitcom portrayed in reruns on the blue TV screen, or as you’d retire to bed, awaiting his body to come occupy the vacant spot beside.

“Yeah.” John heavily sighs, briefly announcing his downcast glare to the floor, before reverting those much familiar, chocolate eyes to yours. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I really do.” Subtle guilt pinched at his darkened features, beard groomed fresh to a handsome trim. His hand smoothes over the small of your back, quietly waiting,

for you to end your farewell.

“It’s just…” You trickle, eyes focusing anywhere, but on his. You didn’t mean to press; you’d reminded him of today’s upcoming events much in the last week. “We have the appointment later this afternoon.” You allow, a final time, blinking back guilt for perhaps, over doing it with the constant reminders. “Are you sure you’ll make it in time?”

-an exchange for the true feelings that had been brewing inside, as of late. On the tip of your tongue they twirled, bubbling, bubbling, boiling, and you’d known, perhaps to the slightest mishap, they’d spill over.

But for now, as your husband holds you, tentatively sure he’d return in time, you bite your tongue, choosing to trust him.

Trust. It was the band that held your marriage together.

John softly smiles, offering a squeeze to your palm. “Promise.” Assuring, his Mustang 69’ keys fish out of his pocket with a jingle, equipped to his stockier fingers. “You’re still okay to meet at the doctor’s office?” With every cell in his being, John would have preferred to stay home, with you, awaiting the appointment time.

Yet, odds never worked in his favour. He’d have to go, he’d have to be reminded of the dark that wouldn’t let its best man go easy, even on the most joyful days, such as today. A day that should have been reserved for his loving wife, who meant the world to him and more, and their baby, who would come into the world in a mere 5 months. When nimble fingers reach for the collar of his brown leather jacket, his love nods, faking her best executed smile in return.

John knew you, well as the back of his hand. He knew you weren’t pleased with the idea of him leaving, wherever he was off to today. Yet, he knew you’d often

bite your tongue,

for him. John knew he’d struck gold when he’d found you, when you’d fell in love with him, and him, immensely with you. In your relationship, there had been much darkness. Much obscurity, much ambiguity to the life John lived separate from the one you shared together. You know about John’s profession, and the hurt he’d caused to many wretched souls. When he was home, with you, your John is a daydream, in human form.

Soft, gentle, caring. Words fall short of the mountain that is your man.

Yet the day he’d told you, of the culpability, the shame that resides within him; claws through each regret ridden seam, each sorrow droned bone in his body,

nothing changed within you.

You didn’t fall out of love. You didn’t fall less. The same hands that held yours, held knives and guns, slaughtered the lives of many. But they’d given life to you. The day your John told you he’d lost count of the souls he’d taken, you’d vowed to love him regardless. To accept him with whatever baggage he came with. He kept the details of his whereabouts, and the deeds he’d succumb to scare.

Mixing you with the life he so desperately wanted to escape was the last thing he’d wanted to do. So you let him, you let him keep mum on scattered details and fine points of who the famed Boogyman was,

You promised to see in him, just John.

John Wick, your husband, who deserves more than anyone the life you’ve built together. A beautiful home in a secure neighbourhood, a house filled with love, a house feels warm, painted with white crisp walls that hold no dark, enveloped in the anticipation of tiny feet sputtering down the open halls someday soon.

“I’ll meet you there, then. Drive safe, and call me if you change your mind, I’ll send a taxi your way.” He quietly reminds, still holding the hand that had painted colour to his black and white guarded walls. You’d opened long drawn curtains that closed to all that came; you were the first to let sunlight in, allow it to kiss his skin for the first time, in a long, long time.

“I love you.” John smiles. “So much. Stay safe, okay? I’ll call you.” He adds, a final time, before instilling a soft kiss to your plump stained lips, your own hand smoothing a wrinkle off his shirt clad chest.

“Love you too.” You quietly smile, holding your bump as you gaze him out the white paned front door, off to somewhere you’d never asked.

You’d bit your tongue, for him,

Yet again.

The doctor’s office air proves cold, chilled to an icy, unsympathetic hail. With a hand to your bump, and a much growing pierce to your now aching temple, your brows frown and an uneased anger surfaces inside.

John promised.

One minute to appointment time.

       ‘He’ll come. He’d walk through the door any second,’ muses your heart.

       ‘He won’t. He hasn’t responded to any calls, or messages.’ Punctuates your mind.

He didn’t forget. Something must have come up. He wanted to be here.

Thoughts, ponderings, half attempted assurances to your own worn out mind.

He shouldn’t have gone. He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have let anything come up. That was his job as the father of this child.

He needed to be here today. He knew how much this means to you.

It should have meant enough to him to be here.

You, your baby,

       should have meant enough.

“Mrs. Y/N Wick?” The call of your name disrupts your whirlwind of destructive thoughts. Perhaps it was your emotions that had been working overtime as of late, perhaps it was the distance between you and John.

Perhaps it was the scars burned into your tongue. The toxins that burned being bitten down.

Gnawed, bitten,

concealed,

covered.

Sat in the cold leathered office bed chair, your OB-GYN spins you a warm smile, and you smile back best as you can, although reluctantly so. Masquerading joy had proven tough, when the hand that should have been holding yours right now proves absent. You sink further into the bed, hem of your top rolled up just below your breasts to allow the doctor access.

“How are you today, Y/N?” She shines, layering on a pair of blue latex gloves, prior to smearing a cold, frigid gel to your tummy. The chill of the balm had always sent shivers peppering down your spine, you’d clenched John’s hand firmer to the feel at your previous check ups. “I’m doing well.” You lie, you bite the truth. Wispy fingers thread together, placed on your lap.

“John’s not here today?” She wonders, preoccupied with the transducer probe equipped in her left grip, her right still smearing the cold gel to your bump. The sound of the radiology machine powering echoes your ears, and you relieve a soft exhale, sure not to cast your dreary emotions too much.

The last thing you needed right now, was to spill your long shielded, buried emotions to your OB-GYN, who was solely trying to do her job. “No, he’s not.” You dryly return, swallowing thickly in declaration more to yourself, than to anyone else.

Her eyes gloss over your features, eyes focused on the beige office walls, fingers twiddling in your enclosed grip. “Everything alright?” She wonders, to your half lost execution, a noticeable dread on your mind, weighing.

“Of course.” You lie, you smile with an emptiness void of usual warmth, through untruthful teeth. “I would appreciate it if we could get started as soon as possible.” You request, wanting none more than to be left alone.

To sift through long pent up feelings, frustrations and worries that brewed inside; to allow hostage feelings pleading to be let free, overtake your mind.

The couch feels colder than normal; or perhaps it was the room.

A room, that fell cold, longing for someone else to be in it.

John.

The appointment concluded a little over an hour ago, a full pot of mint tea sits brewing on the coffee table as you await his arrival. The clock ticks in the distance, your mind shuffling a million thoughts a minute.

He’s not home. He hasn’t been home.

You’d bit your tongue, far too long.

He’d seared a cut. He’d butchered into a part of you, and you wonder when you’d forgotten the way you used to be.

You ponder; when you’d started to settle for his absence. A fire boils inside, lathers, toils. The scorch of long concealed feelings pent up, brewing in secret. Had the sound of a heavy door closing shut not broke your contemplation, you’d perhaps shed a few warm tears, unannounced. Unwelcomed dew that may have just glided off your cheeks, the weight of a million bricks released.

You’d heard his heavy footsteps on their way in, the sound of Dog’s excited paws trotting along the floor as he runs towards his bestest friend.

John-

the one person you’d thought you could share anything with. Count on for anything, had left you deserted. He’d been building a wall around, leaving you left all alone, in the grey dark. Shackled with dread, the conversation that you knew would follow tonight, is something you’d prayed would never rehearse between you and your John.

Yet, perhaps that was the problem. Your John, seemed to be lost. The man you fell in love with, would leave the world behind if you’d asked him to.

He’d made it clear; you and him against the world.

Nothing was larger, nothing was sweeter than what he’d made with you. He’d been ecstatic when you’d found out you were pregnant, promised to never leave your hand the entire way through.

You yearn for that John again;

Beg.

Hope.

Plead.

Yearn. You yearn for your husband, again. Burn, crash, crumble, the feelings become too much, the anger pounds inside. Indignant, blue, muddled, hurting, hurting, hurting-

“Y/N,”

His voice. A confliction at it’s finest. To fall into his arms and pour out your heart, or to fight. To make him feel the ache he’d doused your heart in.

The toxins on your lips threaten to burn; they’ll sear your cheeks, drip a dark tar with each syllable, each vowel that falls. The sharp edges will only cut further. A faint frown lingers the planes of your face, and you shake your head, gaze downcast when he inches further into the room, stance preparing to kneel in front of you on the hardwooden floor. He smells faintly of the air outside; crisp, winter auburns and sharp wind. Yet there’s that familiar, warmer spice. Something that kisses his skin, reminds you of home.

You don’t remember when you started looking at him, and seeing home. It’s been far too long, and now, it’s all you know.

        It’s tough being angry at someone, who loves so deep;

John loves with his entirety. John feels with each inch of his battered skin; his bones remember the chill of feeling null.

Stare melting into the crackling fireplace, you avoid his gaze, ignore his touch when a heavy hand rests to your thigh. Warm, comforting, a reminder of the way his touch had the ability to stitch each ripping seam inside you; to mend, and adorn flowers all over.

But his touch, holds no triumph today.

The flowers didn’t bloom,

the slits only gushed.

“Baby, I’m sorry-”

It comes in flashes. Bold, like a lightening bolt.

       Boom

               Boom.

“Don’t.” You whisper a grit, jaw tightening with a pounding ache to your temple protruding. “Do not try and explain yourself.”

Firm; like a lightening bolt. Much to your dismay, his cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; long, curtained along the frame of his face. Coffee eyes show repulse, a certain sadness you remember from long, long ago.

A sorrow you hadn’t seen often since you’d given him your heart, for his in return. “You don’t get to explain yourself.” You speak; firm, assertive, tears pricking in watery jewels in the corners of your orbs. Perhaps it was the high of pregnancy hormones, or the dire of the situation. For the first time, with John, today marked the start of something you’d never felt before.

You felt forgotten. Less than.

“I told you how much I wanted you with me. I told you how important today was to me.” Tone dreary, John’s heart practically sliced into a million pieces, at mercy of the dagger that was your wounded voice.

Grim, an aching pound stings his nerves, crinkled lines of stress embroidered to his forehead, and his spine unravels in a lean into your skin, his hands coming to engulf around yours in a tender hold. “Baby, I know and I’m-”

Lightening. Swift; sharp.

“No!” You almost shout, hands pulled out of his larger, rougher ones. “You do not get to explain yourself.” The words had come out harsher than intended, the cuts had been deeper than thought. They pour, and a river streams. A flood of built up emotion, a cry your tears won’t bear hold.

“Baby, don’t yell.” A quiet John speaks lowly, barely heard with a gaze avoidant of yours. “It’s not good for our baby girl.” He seems tense. He feels, he feels with each inch of his bones. Still, his hand never leaves your thigh, resting, reminding you that he’s there now. And he will be.

He will be, for good.

Yet, his words only pierce into you further; the blade twists in your skin. Huffing a sneered chuckle, your eyes blink away unwanted tears, the moment needing your assertion more than a wave of vulnerable grief. “Our baby?” Veins course with something so icy, so frozen; an agonizing burn claws away at your temples, features far from forgiving. You knew the words that threatened to brew up on your tongue were far from the truth. You knew they held far more weight than he deserved to bear.

“Because I feel almost as if she’s just my baby with how absent you’ve been, John.”

After thunder, after lightening, comes rain. Perhaps the worst, of them all. Cold, condescending, long pouring rain; it pelts in darkness, loud, leaving its mark on the drought terrain. It pours quietly, yet stridently all at once. It seeps, and it seeps, and it seeps, until it stops.

       Only, no one knows. When it’ll stop.

“I’ve been alone. I’ve been feeling alone. You’ve made me feel alone.”

Rain. Pelting, and pelting, and pelting.

This stream of misery, these awful words, declarations. You know he’s hurting. You’re hurting him. You’re doing the one thing, you promised you’d never do to him. His breathe remains calm, collected, his eyes seldom avoid yours. His hand leaves your thigh, allowing, respecting your space. Those cocoa kissed eyes hold a weight heavier than the sear of a million burns.

You almost want, plead for him to say something back; to anguish the fire.

       It’s hard getting mad at someone who doesn’t raise their voice. Its tough being angry at someone,

       like your John.

You’ve knew you were lying. You knew your words held zero truth. He hadn’t been making you feel alone. He’d been waking up curled into your skin, holding your hand through the dreadful nights. He’d been sacrificing sleep, putting himself second to make sure you were alright.

To make sure his baby was alright. Yet, his efforts had proved unsuccessful, nonetheless. Because as of late, he had been coming home later. He had been leaving earlier, he had been away. He had left you alone.

Quiet, filled with regret, his voice carries a burden; the burden of hurting the only person that had ever truly mattered to him. Of hurting the women who he loves, adores, more than the stars adore the moon. “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I promise.” John speaks, eyes insistent with guilt.

Make it up. He’ll make it up. Another broken promise, your mind threatens, yet your heart whispers. It whispers, that he will. John had a way, John has an inherent kindness. Your lips pursue, the words needing to come out. You needed to be heard today. You needed to know he understood.

Laced with aggravation, your voice flows off your lips in rougher tides than intended. “I don’t need you to make it up, John.” You explain, calmer, collected. Firm. “I just need you to be here. And if that’s something you can’t do, I need you to tell me now.” Twisted with agony, your heart feels heavy in your chest. “My child needs a father who will be there.”

“Our child.” John interrupts, correcting, quietly, respectfully.

He knew better than to argue with his pregnant, hormone loaded wife. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he would let her abdicate the fact that he is the father of their child. Although they hadn’t met yet, John knew. He could feel it in his bones. She would be the payoff. His baby would hold his entire heart, along with her mommy.

Each part of John yearns for nothing but his wife and child. They are all that matters. They are the payoff; the decades of grim sin that conjure on his fingertips would finally, at last lay to rest because of them. For them.

Quietly, a muffled sigh, heavy, tense, leaves your mauve stained lips. A faint frown lingers the depths of your face, something filled with melancholy confession. A heaviness fills the silent room still, occupied with nothing but your two worn out souls, desperately longing for nothing more, than for this nightmare to be over.

John and you don’t argue. Despite small disputes over shoes left at the front door, or a towel left discarded without care to the bathroom floor, this isn’t something John and you do. It isn’t something small. It isn’t something you can brush off, forget about a minute thereafter.

John and you, complete each other. You compliment each other. You fight for each other.

         His heart and yours, are old, old friends.

The water rises, a river flows from your mouth. Steeping thoughts the stitched seams even, cannot bear hold. With a lingering sadness peppered to your tenor, you sigh heavily, head falling downcast to gaze the floor below. John watches you, in a drown of his own guilt; sadness of his own.

He longs to hold you; it had been far too long without.

“You’re always away in the day as of late, and I hate that the only time I really see you is when you come home to sleep.” You begin, voice cut with sorrow. “Sometimes I lay awake in the late of night, savouring the feeling of you just holding me. Touching me. Because I’ve began to get comfortable with knowing moments like that only happen during the night.” Deeper and deeper, each cut wounds into your skin. “I hate it John.” You confess, longing for those strong, toned arms to scoop you up and assure you everything would be okay. That he would tell you what’s been going on, let you in. “I don’t want to be comfortable in knowing you’re not around.”

A slight chuckle shines through your raspy throat, yet the utter sorrow never fails to paint each feature as the words continue to fall. There’s a certain vulnerability in your tone, a certain weakness you wish you could hide. “My body is changing, and I’ve been feeling low. I’m scared of not being what she deserves when she comes.” You barely whisper, tears pricking, a hand resting on your growing belly. A small drop falls, the pent up weight of a billion timid thoughts. “Feeling like you’re maybe not all in anymore makes me feel,” If a word, could even portray the density, the sheer torment of the thought of life with John being anything less than what you hoped. “..Awful.” You cease, a lip quivering. “I feel so awful, John.”

Downcast, your eyes scan the floor, heart pounding, the stillness killing you. John watches you, eyes doused with remorse. Quietly, he’d barely heard your words, strung together. A pair of beautiful eyes dilate with nothing, but blue, as they search his dark orbs.

“John, are you falling out of love with me?”

       Sharp.

       Shrill.

You swore something inside him broke. Something twisted and turned, left a deep puncture; wounded him for good.

       Like a lightening bolt. You’d sunk the needles where it hurts the most.

Weary of his silence, you continue. Unsure of the outcome, yet allowing the river that falls your lips, to flow free, full, at last. “I just…I miss you so much. I don’t need anything but you right now.” Bitten to your lip, a choked sob threatens to surface, although you manage to keep yourself collected. “I don’t want anything but you; I never have.”

And with those words, John’s weary limbs resist the hold no more. Kneeling in front of you as you sit still on the grey couch, John pulls your frame close, so close, that you hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His body is warm, brimmed with love; you feel the soak of a few strayed tears from his eyes seep into the supple skin of your neck.

       He holds you so close.

       And you hold him; the way it was always meant to be.

With your arms firmly wrapped around his body, you sink into his skin, melting in the touch of the man you love most. Eyes closed, you breathe in his scent, and he threads his fingers in tender strokes to your hair. Honey drenched kisses press to your shoulder, your neck, the side of your head as he quietly finds the right words to surface; nevertheless, feeling as if anything at all would fall short for what he felt in this moment.

John Wick, sees nothing in this world, but you. As a few more moments of silent relish pass, he pulls his head back a mere few inches, still holding your body so close. With his callous thumb brushing a gentle stroke just under your eye, his thin taut lips kiss a tender, soft peck to where a tear had once fell from your cheek, his eyes still soaking in gloom. With his voice, deep, rich as butter, yet rasped, he speaks softly, silked into your ears, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve been trying to get out.” Velvet. He speaks, as if the finest of velvet. “And I did, I left that part of me behind today.” Swallowing thick, John inches in closer, kissing a soft, gentle kiss to your eye, that had been haven to nothing but drifted tears earlier. “For you, and for our baby girl.”

Close, proximate, he holds you. His touch alone, fixes everything. “You are all I want. Here, is where I want to be. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” He whispers, his forehead resting to yours as you cup his perfectly groomed, bearded cheek. “I didn’t want you worrying; I needed you to stay happy. You’re carrying our baby, I wanted you to be carefree, and nothing else. I never wanted to hurt you.” His heart pours, his heart sears. “I will never hurt you, or our child.” Looking down at your belly, his hand rests to your bump as his lips press a gentle kiss to the top.

And with his lips, holding the only remedy you’d ever need, he kisses you with all the love he holds, all the love he feels for no one, but you. “You are my everything. Please believe me when I say it. I wanted you then, I want you now, and I will until we take our last breath.” His words hold sincerity, something reserved for no one but you.

“From today on, baby, I’m all in. I’m all yours, and hers. I’ll be here for it all, the sleepless nights, the cravings, the aches, everything.” He pours his heart to you, never letting go, as if he’d been scared you’d disappear. “You are it for me, Y/N. I love you more than I could ever tell. Please believe me when I say it.”

And with your eyes, shining into his, you keep his cheek cupped, and your foreheads locked. You stare, and you stare, and you stare, into the eyes of your world. Into the eyes of the man who you knew would become the best father; perhaps greater of a father to your child than he is a husband, if only it was possible.

Your husband, deserves the stars. And if you could, you’d pick them out of the sky like apple blossoms in summer, and decorate them in his hair. And with every ounce in your being, you smile, and you kiss him tender, you hold him so close, so near.

“I do.” You smile, holding on.

       “I believe you. I trust you.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[childish-ish]

my mom wont let me get anymore monster :\

pairing: billy lenz x reader

aha, part two of that last one. also im not very good at part 2s if you can't already tell, anywas for uhhhhh @walt25​ this is for u chief

also sorry again if i butchered his fucking uhh personality, its how i now write him lmfao,,, him talking in fucking..... 3rd pov hehe.

requests open....,,,, pleaase,,,,, request a slasher... ... 

also michael x reader and jason x reader fics coming soon lmfao.

You had to be an absolute fucking idiot to not notice the signs.

I mean - you didn't notice it at first, because you are an absolute fucking idiot - but then you actually saw something - someone, rummaging around in the fridge.

Like any normal - sane person would, you quickly retreat to your room after seeing an unknown man in the kitchen. An actual man with frizzy untamed hair and all-black clothing, save for a dark green sweater. Did he even have shoes on? You didn't really care enough to actually stay and analyze the man.

Again, like any normal, sane person would do, you call the police. You didn't recognize the large body to be anybody of Kappa-Sig, so you immediately dialed the number of emergency - ahaha, just kidding!! You aren’t a fucking normal and sane person! What you do is actually get a camera and step out of your room.

Stepping down the stairs quietly in your socked feet - avoiding the creaky stairs.

Ah, but alas. Once you peek into the kitchen, the male was gone. You drop your camera - screeching in pain as the fucking thing lads on your goddamned foot. "FUCK!" You cried out, crouching and dropping to sit on your bottom.

The other girls were at school that day - some had free periods and doing whatever. You skipped. Knowing you would have to pay something to someone for skipping a singular day.

Later that same day - The Moaner called, shortly after you falling on your ass. You immediately crawled towards the front door and picked up the phone.

The conversation went something like this;

"what did you do to the baby, billy?"

"yeah what'd you do to the fucking baby, billy."

"where's anges, billy..?"

"ayo, wheres anges?! WHO THE FUCK IS ANGES??? you been cheating on me billy?? oh wait if you're mocking a voice of one of your parents - maybe even a babysitter or guardian. then.. anges is your sister. or friend?? dude o-m-g what im like, a detective doin' some detective work n' shit."

"y/n.. where's billy?" he asked in that wailing.. high-pitched voice.

"oh shit, you know my name? ion know bro.. wheres billy? wheres billy..?!" You repeat.

"billy knows what you did last night..." He spits into the phone. "pretty pink cunt. pretty cunt. pretty pretty pretty pretty..."

Anyways. You had called him a little bitch and he hung up. You guess if Billy really did know what you did, he would've had to be there to see it. Somewhere. LATER THAT DAY - Present time.

You had a little alone time despite being alone the entire day. you catch my drift?

You cleaned yourself up and had disposed of the towel you placed under yourself, not wanting to dirty or piss accidentally on your bed.

Soon, you were drawing on the floor, fucking around with waterpaints - when the goddamned phone rang. A string of curses fall from your lips.

As you took a single step outside your room, the ringing stopped for one moment, before starting up again.

Quickly, you step out fully and jogged down the hallway. Peering down the stairs to see a - well. That figure from earlier - from the kitchen. You take two steps down the stairs.

"AYO?" You shout, immediately putting up your defences. "you know, ive read about this somewhere." You narrow your eyes, squinting at the male.

"ayo - ayo chill." You take a stumbling step backwards as he twitched, falling onto your ass, your ankle rolling. You curse before peeking up -

"Oh FUCK - oh FUCK??" You realize, he was halfway up the stairs. Oh my fucking god, where were the goddamned other girls. School still? What time was it? Fuck you don't know.

"Billy.. Billy likes you. Billy likes pretty piggy. Pretty p - piggy cunt." He spits out the last letter.

"You know what Billy. I like you too. You're pretty chill." You let him come closer, dominate hand clenched in a fist by your side. You let him take a few steps closer. The deranged male looms over you. His peach.. sickly yellow skin. Crazy brown eyes peer into your own.

"billy knows what you're doing. billy doesn't like it."

You sweat under the pressure. "What the fuck - ?" You let the curse slip past by your lips as the male falls onto you. You scream in surprise as the male practically dry humps against your hips slowly.

Pushing him away, you hear the front door open.

"Y/n!" You recognize the voice as Barb. The male glares angrily into your eyes, a warning for something, then scrambled off you and quietly scuttles down the hallway. You wonder where he goes.

"Dude!" You shout out from the floor, before pushing yourself up. "Holy shit you would not believe what happened - " You pause immediately. You were sure he could hear you. You change the subject.

"Bro nevermind i’m going to sleep again don’t fucking bother me!"

"I'll tell the other girls then!" Barb called back. You see her wave lazily before she leaves your line of view.

You scrambled down the hallway, to your room.

Where this little goddamned fuck was fucking with your water paints. Once you had entered the room, his attention was solely on your figure.

"OI!" You whisper-shout. His eyebrows jump up in confusion. "Stop fucking with that!"

Billy leaps away, onto your bed. He bounces for a few moments before you drag your attention back to your paints. You immediately began to clean up.

Once finished, you turn your bitch-ass attention to little Billy.

“Billy. How’d you get in the house fool? Oh wait, if you were actually forreal rummaging through out fucking fridge then.. do you live here?”

“billy’s been here forever. billy doesn’t like sharing his house. billy likes you.”

“damn lmao. thanks chief. anyways don’t kill me or ill fucking fuck you over from the other side.”

“billy likes pretty piggy.” he said ferociously.

“cool. anyways,”

you begin to ramble on to the male, asking him questions here and there about why he was there and why the fuck didn’t he kill you, you got the same answers as before, going on and on as you lie next to the seated, criss-crossed legged male, an arm behind your head as you tell him about your favorite shit to do and such.

Soon, it was okay. Billy was chill enough to actually not kill you, he told you in broken words that he lived there like he fucking said before but you don’t listen lmfao, he had hung around you alot when you had gotten home from your classes, sometimes waking up to the male besides you when you wake - you had caught him watching you shower, and offered him a shower as well. With no hesitation, he stripped and hopped it, immediately groping your body as his tongue licked upon the skin on your neck. It was a weird - sexual yet friendly relationship. You literally had no idea where this was gonna go,

[twin-azure-dragon-wave]

Yashahime Season 2, Episode 26 Reaction Post

These posts are probably always going to be late because I work on weekends and I’m usually too exhausted to write full, thought out reactions.

-No cold open this week. Also had Setsuna doing the narration which I don't think has happened before(?) Last week’s was just a season 1 recap.

-Totally self-indulgent but I was disappointed we didn’t get an origin story for Riku’s new swag. I wanted a scene like from a movie where he stands on a podium in front of a full-length mirror while a salesman with whatever the feudal Japan equivalent of a posh british accent is holds up a jacket and goes, “May I recommend the black with the red and gold trim, Lord Riku.”

-Also wanted to see him swing by feudal Jacob the Jeweler to get the pirate sword upgrade for his earring. Come on, Sunrise. Indulge me. INDULGE ME.

-I love these scenes where Riku goes to visit some mysterious contact because the vibe he gives off is less threatening anti-hero a la Sesshomaru and more like a charismatic weed dealer who heard you could point him in the direction of some high-grade medical kush.

-Modern AU Riku should always either be a high-class drug dealer or someone who like, scams rich college kids in the Hamptons.

-Riku: I’m thinking of doing whatever I please. Mimisenri: You mean Sesshomaru’s daughters? Sorry, my mind went straight to the gutter.⚆_⚆

-I’m not even past the 4 minute mark yet. I just love Riku so much.

-The animation was really top notch in this episode. I’m not totally fond of the style but this is as good as this show is ever gonna look.

-I read some criticism of Setsuna’s behavior toward Towa (i.e. that Setsuna was acting too coldly and running off on a mission with Moroha without telling her where she was going). But this fits with Setsuna’s patterns of behavior established from season 1. Setsuna is like Sesshomaru in that she rarely feels the need to explain herself, even to people she cares about.

-I think what Setsuna really needs is a Jaken. Jaken was a great character to have because he verbalized and explained the taciturn Sesshomaru’s motivations to the audience and Sesshomaru hitting him with rocks was funny. 

-It literally just occurred to me that the Inuyasha universe actually DOES have a feudal equivalent to Jacob the Jeweler and it’s Hosenki.

-Everything reminds Towa of Setsuna. She’s like one of Pavlov’s dogs except the bell can just be anything. LOL.

-Why does Sea Snake Lady have to have modesty hair when Mistress Centipede just gets to go tits out? Is there an uncovered boob quota?

-The heavily butchered censored anime of my youth would’ve given both the ancient demon ladies digital bikinis and I would not have had to question this.

-Setsuna having amazing hair is canon. Yes, this was something I needed.

-Every time Kohaku shows up, I wish he had a bigger role. One, because Kohaku is awesome, but also because he would make a great mentor to the group and connection to the world of Inuyasha before the new characters were born without taking the focus or the spotlight away from them like the parents would.

-This episode’s story felt very classic Inuyasha to me. As far as filler episodes, like with the animation, this is probably as good as it’s going to get.

-The horniness of the demons in this universe is off the charts. They see one hot human and they’re ready to risk it all o(￣▽￣)ｄ

-This village has the same Whacking Day tradition as Springfield.

-You can tell Katsuyuki Sumisawa wrote both this and Gundam Wing because Sea Snake Lady has Dorothy Catalonia’s twig eyebrows.

-I got my Ritowa crumbs with Riku protecting Towa and her immediately guessing that the water freezing was his doing.

-Sumisawa also wrote the 3rd movie, which opens up the possibility that he specifically asked Rumiko Takahashi to give Inu no Taisho twig eyebrows.

-Towa with the mirrored sunglasses was on some serious retrowave meets Buddy Holly shit. I initially thought they looked goofy in the previews and now I wish they were a permanent part of her outfit.▨-▨¬ლ(•_•) (▨_▨¬)

-Setsuna gets the best scene in an episode twice in a row when she dives into the water to sever the link between Sea Snake Lady and the fisherman and then pops up afterward on his stone body like it’s a surfboard.

-Since this episode’s budget allowed for multiple glamor shots of Riku and because it loves me, that’s what we end on.

Now, as promised, my new feature.

What are Moroha fans going to complain about this week?

Probably stuff like Jyubei still stiffing her on bounties and Towa caring a lot more about Setsuna than her but mostly the fact that she really didn’t have much to do. She didn’t end up contributing to the villains defeat at all and unlike in most episodes, she didn’t even get any shots in and didn’t get to use any of her attacks. I’m predicting a lot of the typical “Why drag Moroha into this mess if she’s not going to be main?” whining.

Anyway, see you again next Saturday, folks.

Until then~

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: They Are Cryin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Fuck."

It wasn't a painful awakening; she actually felt damn good. Clearer, like the tiny neurons in her brain fired without a jolt of pain. The sweet moment of clarity after the removal of an infected tooth. Bliss. If only a familiar face could loom over her, a happy embrace of the one she loved. A blissful reunion.

The aging woman who looked over her with a sour expression erasing her gratitude and any field of butterflies illusion. Along with the confusion of waking up in unfamiliar territory.

Right, she was dying just a moment before.

"Where am I?"

This sloppily white-painted interior was not part of the shopping center she recognized. The medical machine that counted out her vitals was also out of place, but that was a minute detail. Jane had woken up from the dead once already, just not inside of a shipping crate. Make that one low she had not yet met.

"Just outside of London," the woman's scowl relaxed, "you're with the Special Operations Biotic Company. Luckily for you, I understand you had a rattled implant."

Her hand was grabbed before she felt her spirits utterly bottom out, the woman's dark brown eyes peering out at her from behind black and white streaked hair. A moment of shared pain passed between them before Jane could not manage to keep up the contact, "how about the LT? My home?"

"The latter is in one piece. I'm not familiar with the person you speak of," the lady spoke gently, "you were rushed here after an injury. But let me introduce you to the person that saved your life, Doctor Balcan."

Jane's gaze shifted to the person arriving on the other side of her bed, the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld. Dark brown hair and eyes loomed over her; the soft smile set upon full brown lips looked perfectly primped without a touch of makeup. The simple doctor's smock hung perfectly on her body, the garment unable to smear an ounce of the poise this woman possessed. As the female nodded in greeting and her long lashes crested her cheeks, Jane was infected with jealousy.

"Thank you, Helen," even her voice was sweet, not in an artificial way, but in the vein of the sweetness of a ripe strawberry, "I think I can handle Jane for the moment if you wouldn't mind grabbing her meal."

The woman waited for Helen to leave before speaking again, "how long have your biotic powers been misfunctioning?"

"Since the Reapers fell," time was a funny thing to Jane anymore.

"Just shy of seven months," the minuscule movement of her eyebrow hardly seemed surprised, "though, I wasn't expecting to be fixing an L5n implant."

"Who else would be stupid enough to bullrush a krogan," any vanguard worth their salt knew how other biotics could view them. Rash. Stupid. Bullheaded.

"I think your stupid luck is what saved your life. You should have had severe seizures attacks, if not died from them, months ago."

Jane continued with a snarl, "but the mall. How... did everyone make it?"

"It was unkind of us not to tell you immediately, but only one civilian casualty," the doctor proffered a soft smile, "the Special Ops group got to your compound in time to repel the brunt of the attack. We had heard there was a pocket trying to rebuild; we just weren't sure if you were friendly, so the entire team did not come along. They had to rush you back here. The equipment is too fragile to move quickly."

She was even nice, gross.

"I was asked to pass on the message that you keep your ass down," at least the swear word brought her down from the utterly ethereal.

Jane's smile cracked, slightly painful against the cybernetic scars that littered her cheek.

"Your body is a curious piece of work; the sheer amount of upgrades and scarring at a microscopic level is fascinating," the woman pulled out her datapad, scrolling down what Jane assumed was a list of medical notes, "synthetic weaving to reinforce bones, microfibres in your muscles, synthetic skin fibres as well. I can't imagine the cost of that modified biotic amp."

Jane looked at her blankly, "you certainly poked around."

"Somebody wanted you alive," strawberry remarked, undeterred, "I'd think you're some sort of mad scientist experiment -that's a foolish notion. But I have my bets on Special Ops... N7."

Jane's eyes snapped into a glare, setting her jaw hard. Teeth grinding into her following biting statement, "don't attempt to bite off more than you can chew."

The woman returned the statement with tempered pity, lips tucked into a frown. The kickback from her calloused words came back twofold as a sharp pain seared across her orbital bone, requiring a hand to staunch the heat before it ended out in a cry. Jane should be thankful, instead, she was pissed. Most of the angst directed inward, some at the patheticness of the situation, little at the well-meaning doctor.

"Can I go?"

"I'll need you here for a couple more weeks minimum."

Fucking perfect.

The doctor continued before Jane's snarl turned into an attack, "you know you need to keep your biotics offline for a while. During that time, we can prepare to merge our groups as one. We'd like your help in escorting us back."

The last line was a platitude, but the LT's message made more sense. The guilt of their previous encounter started to trickle into her psyche before she squelched it away with a flinch, "any more orders, doc?"

"As you are The Commander, I think I should be deferring to you."

"Come again?"

The female laughed behind her hand, "it's obvious who you are. You may fool everyone else with the fancy scars, wilted demeanor, and blonde hair -which by the way, looks fabulous- but your unique physiology and enhancements give it away. I struggled with the thought briefly because how could the savior of the galaxy be here? You charged in with the strike team that went to activate the Crucible. But by God's grace, you're here."

"You can't be-"

Strawberry waved away the protest with her hand, "I'm more than some yokel surgeon. I don't get to be a spec ops field doctor without further training. You won't fool me."

"You bitch."

"Language, miss!"

The sharp crack of the older's woman's words snuffed the faint glow Jane had unconsciously started to accumulate. But it did not dim her glower, blue eyes pinned on the female tapping something into a datapad. Jane was still, frozen in the moment until the second snap of warmth from a small body clambering into her bed shook her from a blind stupor. The little hands and the mound of mousy hair looking at her with barely disguised disdain.

"But I already know those words," Evelyn murmured, only to increase the scrutiny Helen placed on her patient.

"Why are you-" the room immediately thickened with another aura, a solemn shake from the salt and pepper haired woman stopped her question, "are you here because Pater sent you?"

"It is my job," the girl declared bravely, "Pater said that I was to stop you from fighting with anymore krogan. Or just fighting."

"It was my fault, Evelyn...Helen," Strawberry squeaked, "I poked Mar- sorry, I meant Jane without telling her."

Jane's attention returned to the Doctor, pupils narrowing. That was no longer her name.

"I'll excuse it this time, Rahna," Helen's voice returned to a gentle timbre. Handing over the plate of rations, prepared in a manner that was meant to be appeasing. Simple rations that Jane was not thrilled to consume, "eat up. Biotics need energy. I've seen you guys crash before. I don't want you accidentally breaking something expensive."

Rahna.

Rahna...

Rahna.

The woman raised an eyebrow in her direction, plump lips playing into a smirk. Jane was had. Jealousy sunk deeper into her guts, bordering on hatred. How could Kaidan call her beautiful after seeing this divine creature? Beautiful on the Citadel. Beautiful after the first night they had bunked together. Beautiful every time they fucked after. Beautiful in the small moments. Beautiful in the big and the in-between. Had he meant Rahna all along?

"Two weeks."

"What now?" Jane snapped away from the grip of her thoughts.

Rahna crossed her arms, Evelyn giggled, and Helen spoke, "biotics."

"All of this commotion is probably a little too much for her, right now," Rahna cautioned to a sulking child, "let Jane eat in peace while I run a few more tests."

"Yup, super hungry," Jane murmured under her breath.

The patient's gaze did not stray from the Doctor, laser-focused on the slightest movement she made. Waiting for her to do something rash, her temper barely holding behind her tongue. Violent thoughts collided in her head, the desire to do something impetuous a string she had yet to completely cut. It was the easier way, the brutish way- but it was not the way Shepard did it. Shepard would resist, The Commander famously turned the other cheek. Chose kindness. Some of her could still seep through.

Even if it was in the form of stony silence.

"Why hide who you are? You are the one person who could reunite everyone."

A bloody icon. Hero. Butcher. Madwoman. Lover. Terrorist. Murderer. Savior. Pathetic.

"There's nothing to explain," a surly statement only dampened by a flinch, "I don't owe you anything."

"So, it wouldn't matter if I told everyone?"

Jane's silence was the answer.

"This is Major Alenko's squad, I'm sure everyone would be interested," Strawberry continued, placing her first foot away from the bedside, "Let alone you being Shepard, the Major's fling is a very juicy topic. I'm sure meeting the woman would be a top priority."

Rahna took several steps away, gliding out of the retrofitted container. Someone pulled her back, Jane regretted the breeze against her exposed backside. Luckily nobody seemed to pay them much mind in the moment.

"No," her eyes lit with tears, "don't. I can't."

Kaidan knew it was the end; Mary couldn't bring herself into accepting that. Luck. Stupidity. Credits. Spite. They had all stopped her death, had prevented her from reaching a low she could not climb out of. The brutal murder of her parents. Losing her unit on Akuze. Hell, even the deaths of friends during her campaign against the Reapers. They hurt like hell, but it never brought her to her knees. Now... in this moment. In the reality of losing Kaidan, she crashed. Tears, sobbing, railing against the ground. It was pathetic.

Was it the loss of her entire family aboard the Normandy, or just one man?

Dark brown eyes met her on her level, gentle the hint of moisture in her deep eyes, "everyone here mourns him."

"Fuck you."

Rahna laughed, offering out her hand and pulling the woman up to her feet, "I won't tell your secret, but I think you should talk to someone. We have-"

"No, nobody else."

"You know the risks of PTSD; you can't push through it."

"I'm fine."

Jane's stare hardened the emotions out-drying the tears riveting down her scarred cheeks.

"Or how about a deal, my silence for a few talks? Nothing official, just friendship."

She considered for several long moments, biting back each bitter comment that fought to come out. It wasn't the time for resistance. Talking wouldn't hurt, especially if it meant Rahna kept silent. What was she supposed to do for the next two weeks? Stare at the wall? Teach a child to swear? Avoid Kaidan's squad as much as humanly possible?

"Friendship may be pushing it."

[nad-zeta]

Blind Date with Theo

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairings: Theo van Gogh x reader 

Genre: Slice o life

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol and also mild swearing☺

Words: 1500

Comments: So this is my first ikevamp prompt thingy lol its probs ganna be shit cause you best know i didn’t proofread before posting lol(˶◕‿◕˶✿) Also sorry to all the dutch people for butchering the language! Hehe lol so after trying my luck multiple time with @readerinsertfanfiction blind dates,🦋 I still didn’t get my man (Damn those dice!) so I decided to write my own self indulging thingy lol! 😳😳😳

Hehe so I am hella excited for Theo’s route, and I just had to participate in this Theo route countdown! Thanks, @delicateikemenmemes for setting up this fun lil party hehe so it goes without saying I am posting this as part of the #Theo Route Countdown Party! Whoop whoop so without further ado....... my interpretation of the prompt Theo and King ❤😳☺

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Sunbeams came streaming into the younger van Gogh’s room. The man groaned as he rolled over to shield his eyes from the morning sunlight illuminating the room. He let out a tired groan as his eyes cracked open to see a scrap of paper containing a neatly written note laying wait on his bedside table. 

Sitting up slightly, he reached over and squinted his eyes, trying his best to quickly scan over the contents of the page through blurred vision. He let out a tired scoff as he crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the floor. 

He laid back down, and he rubbed his temples letting go of yet another irritated scoff, as memories of his previous night out, had come flooding back to him.

He and Arthur were out together, to their usual pub, drinking and venting about the events that had unfolded throughout the day. All was going well when suddenly Arthur decided to be a little shit and propose a bet. He wore a mischievous grin as he declared for all to hear, “whomever passes out first, loses and has to do whatever the winner says for an entire day.” 

Theo eyed Arthur with caution as he contemplated his odds at beating the mystery author. The last thing the man needed was to lose a bet to the flirt. Not even to mention the fact that he has been so busy with work recently, that he hasn’t even spent any time with his dearest pet. 

Shooting Arthur a devilish smirk, he confidently spoke up, “you have yourself a deal, you four-eyed pervert.” 

The night progressed, and the drinks flowed between the two friends, however, little did Theo know that Arthur had a rather naughty trick up his sleeve to ensure success. Arthur had never lost a bet in his life, and he most definitely wasn’t planning on giving up his winning streak now. 

Theodorus sat up in his bed and groaned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked over to see his dearest companion peacefully sleeping at the foot of his bed. His expression softened upon seeing the cute way the retriever’s legs twitched as he slept. Reaching over, he gave the pup a clumsy pat, all while wearing a tender smile. “Looks like you will have to help me make good on a deal, King.” 

Upon hearing his name roll off the tongue of his beloved owner, King shot up and tacked Theo back down onto the bed, showing his face with loving kisses. It was in these rare moments that Theo truly allowed his tough exterior to melt away and reveal his true self. He laughed as he pushed the retriever’s face away from his own, trying to catch his breath. King nuzzled his nose into the palm of Theo’s hand, trying to push past and shower his face with even more kissing licks. 

Suddenly the retriever’s attention was stolen by the slither of crumpled paper laying on the bedroom floor. With lightning speed, he hopped off of the bed and started playfully attacking the piece of paper, tearing it up, to make a scattered mess. Theo couldn’t help but affectionately smile down at King as he pulled his finger through his hair, contemplating just how the lightweight shit bag friend of his, might have been able to out drink him. 

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes as he finally got up to prepare for his fate, as loser of the wager. “Curse that rotten good for nothing thot for scamming me.”

After a long drawn out sigh, Theo slithered onto the floor and reached over to the trunk situated beside his desk, to pull out a soft-bristled brush. The second the playful pup spotted his favourite red brush he was sprawled across Theo’s lap, belly exposed, ready for some attention, “You really are an attention whore, aren’t you.” 

King's tail happily swished back and forth as Theo bushed his soft golden fur and showered the lovable creature with attention. Despite not having spent much time with his dear companion, he made a point of it, to at least brush the retrievers silky fur once a day in the mornings. Knowing from experience that the pup would seek attention otherwise from the man, in far more destructive ways. Something his chewed-up leather shoes could attest to.

Theo walked along the Boulevard with King excitingly strutting beside him. King’s long, fluffy tail swished in the air as he excitedly looked around the new environment. Soon the pup’s tail started wagging profusely as they neared the local dog park. Despite having walked around half of Paris with King, it was the first time the pair had visited this particular dog park. 

Catching the whiff and sight, of all the new interesting sights and smells in the unknown environment, the retriever’s excitement only grew tenfold. At this point, the pup was so ecstatic to play with the other animals, that he was practically walking Theo instead of the other way around. 

King pulled at his owner to quicken his pace, “oi King, slow down, you are going to pull my arm from it’s socket.” The pup never relented once, continuing to push forward with Theo in tow. 

Once inside the park, Theo leaned down to release the leash and allow King to run free and expend all his energy. “Try not to cause too much mischief today, buddy.” He ruffled the pup’s fur as he unclasped the leash. The second King was freed, he leapt into the air running off to some unknown direction

Theo could only scoff at his pet’s impatience, although, after watching his beloved companion for a few moments, he couldn’t help but let go of a hearty chuckle. The sight of the retriever bouncing around the park exploring its every corner was simply too cute. 

Soon the slight smile that was resting on Theo’s face morphed into his set point scowl, as he spotted the woman he was supposed to meet, on this blind date. 

Cursing Arthur once more under his breath, he approached the woman. Out of all the things to be asked of the man for losing the bet, this was by far the worst. 

As he neared the woman to introduce himself, King came sprinting back to Theodorus, to show him a cool new stick he had found. 

The retriever ran at full speed bounding into the air to slam straight into Theo’s back, causing the man to fall forward. There was no way to stop gravity once in motion, and Theo found himself tumbling straight into the woman’s arms, sending the pair of them falling back onto the soft grass. 

Theo stared down at the woman mortified, while his beloved companion decided to ease his master’s anger by showering both his owner’s- and the face of the new stranger with small kisses. Theo narrowed his eyes at the dog, who playfully nipped and licked at the poor woman’s face, while letting go of a little whine in apology. 

Before Theo could scold the impertinent pooch, both his and King’s attention was suddenly stolen by the woman trapped beneath the young art dealer. 

She seemed to be in a fit of laughter at the whole experience, trying her best to free herself from King’s loving face kisses. 

Thankful for the distraction King bounded off into a new direction while Theo was left blushing from the embarrassment. He clumsily got up and muttered a slight apology as he offered the woman a hand. 

She smiled a bright sunny smile and shrugged as she continued to chuckle nervously. She gestured for the two of them to sit down on a nearby park bench to which Theo simply nodded, as he tried his best to regain composure. 

He was surprised at the spunk of the woman who sat beside him, chatting away without a care in the world. He had tried his best to deter her with his sharp tongue and scowling attitude. Yet she continued to smile and engage with him, meeting his savage words and comments with a charming wit of her own. 

By the time the sun had started set, Theo was almost sad to leave the company of this mysterious woman. He leisurely walked beside the her as they decided to do one more slow lap around the park together, before saying their goodbyes. 

Suddenly the woman breathed an “oh no” and used Theo as a human shield, upon spotting two excited pups sprinting their way towards the two owners at full speed. Without warning, the Retriever and Labrador duo shook out their sopping wet fur right beside the owners to shower them in an inevitable rain of muddy pond water. 

The pair burst into laughter, as both of them were now soaked to the bone, and left to smell like wet dog and dirty river water. 

After parting ways with the woman and her pet, Theo couldn’t keep that shit-eating grin off his face. Even King was wearing a broad smile of his own, having finally met a pup who could keep up with his high energy curiosity. 

“What do you say bud, should we meet up with those two again sometime?” Seemingly as if understanding his master’s words, King’s tail whipped through the air as he let out an excited bark in response. “Oké dan staat het vast.” 

Since then, whenever Theo and King would visit the dog park, they would each in their own way, excitingly approach the gates in anticipation of the fun day that lays ahead. 

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Hope yall enjoyed this ☺❤🌻also this is low key part 2 hehe ☺

Part one will be out on day 3 of the countdown! So the day after tomorrow!🌈

[bre-meister]

Training Wheels

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

Leon looked up at his wife from where he was sitting in the garage; baby Olivia sitting on her hip contentedly playing with her mother’s cropped hair. Their toolbox was sitting next to him, wrenches and some bolts spread around him. Isabelle’s bike stood in front of him in all its blue, glittery, tassely glory.

“Izzy says she wants to learn how to ride without training wheels - “

“Which Chris offered to do,” Claire cut in. “ He was really great at it when he taught me and he hasn’t gotten to see the girls that often lately - it would be a great way for him to spend some time with his niece.”

Leon looked at her from over the bike clearly not amused or in agreement.

 “Claire,” he started, voice flat and monotone, “ I can teach my own daughter how to ride without training wheels.”

“Really? Well don’t you need pedals to ride a bike?” she shot back in that same monotone voice, although a little mocking.

Leon sighed. He’d had this conversation with Claire before when Izzy had asked to learn in the first place. Claire had volunteered Uncle Chris for the task and Leon had jumped in immediately after to reassure everyone present that he could in fact teach someone to ride a “big girl bike” just as well as anyone else - even better in fact!

Leon had most definitely never had to teach anyone how to do anything like how to ride a bike before. So, he did the next best thing - research.

In all honesty, that research mostly comprised of him asking Hunnigan who then directed him to check the internet which really should have been his first step. So, he did as told and found a very promising article on some random blog that suggested taking the pedals off of the bike and ride down a small, controlled incline (aka, their driveway). Apparently, this was supposed to help the trainee learn how to balance without the distraction of trying to pedal. It seemed like pretty sound logic to him and he’d told Claire as much. And so, that was how they found themselves in their current predicament on a Saturday afternoon - Claire and little Olivia watching him butcher Izzy’s poor bike while waiting for said little girl to get home from spending time with Sherry to learn how to ride a “big girl bike”.

“Hey, I know what I’m doing ok? Trust me. When have I ever been wrong?”

Claire opened her mouth, a response at the ready but Leon interrupted her before she could get it out,

“Don’t answer that,” He said, returning his attention to the one pedal left on the bike.

“I already talked to Chris. He’d be more than happy to teach Izzy.”

“Claire!”

She fixed him with a look that said “don’t snap at me”  and “try that again and see what happens” all at the same time. A chill ran down his spine and his face twisted into a sorry smile.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I just… this is an important milestone in our daughter’s life and I want to be the one to guide her in this --”

Everyone in the garage went silent as the loud snap was heard. Even Oliva quieted her babbling to look at her daddy - mouth fixed in a surprised o shape.

“So…” Claire wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

Leon sighed - this time, defeated. He stood, nodding his head in the direction of the now broken bike.

“Just call Chris already,” Leon disappeared behind the door leading into the kitchen.

For a moment, Claire thought he had gone inside to sulk. Part of her felt bad for him but another part of her felt like saying the implied I told you so. She was a little confused when he returned, keys in hand.

“What are you doing now?” Claire had to struggle to hold in her laugh.

“Going to buy our daughter a new bike before she gets back and sees...this,” he gestures towards the broken pedal and mess of bolts and - was that the chain? At least that’s what she assumed it used to be.

“Leon,” she had to take a minute to control herself to hold in her laughter. She moved a little closer to the bike to get a better look before continuing, “How - how did you manage this?”

She hoped her wide smile didn’t betray her attempt to hide her laughter. Unfortunately, Olivia did not seem to have the same courtesy. The little girl on her hip began to let out a round of liting baby giggles.

Leon paused his walk towards his jeep at the sound of his youngest daughter’s laugh. Turning around he made his way back towards Olivia and Claire.

“Are you laughing at Daddy, Livy?” he asked, incredulously.

The little girl just continued her giggling. Giggles turned into squeals as Leon reached out, tickling her little tummy. At this point, Claire was also laughing. She mouthed a “sorry” towards him but didn’t make to stop laughing. 

Eventually, Leon joined in as well - laughing at his own expense. 

“That was pretty funny, Little Bug, wasn’t it.”

Leon had always said that Liv’s little noises odd discontent sounded like a buzzing little bee and so, he had given her the name “Little Bug” to go alongside his nicknames for her and Isabelle - Angel and Princess respectively. Claire didn’t always buy into it but the name was kinda cute and Olivia seemed to enjoy the special attention so she never said anything about it either way.

Leon leaned in until his nose touched Olivia’s - matching features replicated smaller on her dainty face. He made his own buzzing sound and Liv tried her best to replicate it over her now revived laughter. Olivia reached for her Daddy’s face, tiny hands patting at the stubble on his cheeks as he pulled away and placed a kiss on top of her head.

Claire thought this little tradition of theirs was the cutest thing in the world. Then again, maybe she was a little biased but she’d be lying if she said she and Leon didn’t make cute kids. A hot husband plus cute kids doing cute things? Irresistible - she felt like melting then and there.

She was next. Leon planted a kiss on her forehead along with a quick peck on her lips before strolling back towards his Jeep, laughing to himself all the way.

“So you’re really going to buy a whole new bike?” She asked, tone filled with mirth.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t think Izzy would take kindly to the news that her “big girl bike” has been broken before she could even learn to ride it. Plus,” he opened the car door, “ she’s had that bike for a while. All the tassels are falling off - it was bound to break soon anyway. Why not just get her a new one that’s a little bigger so she’ll have room to grow into it?”

Claire saw right through that charade,

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kennedy.”

His mumbled reply was cut off by the closing of the car door. Claire stood there in the garage a little while longer watching as Leon started the car and prepared to take off down the street.

“Leon!” She waved her free hand to get his attention.

He rolled down the window and stuck his head out to make sure he heard her.

“Make sure you get the most glittery, purplest bike with all the tassels you can find. Oh! And a little bell.”

“Purple? What happened to blue?”

Claire smiled teasingly, 

“You said it yourself, our daughter is growing up and purple is a big girl color so all of her things have to be purple ‘cause she’s a big girl now,” Claire repeated what Isabelle had told her the previous day.

“Purple it is, “ Leon said.

Liv let out another round of giggles - this time for the way her Mommy’s necklace changed colors as the light hit it. She could hear Leon’s own laugh as he rolled the window back up and set off on his mission to find Isabelle a new bike.

Looking over the jumbled mess on the floor one last time, Claire went back inside to make the call to Chris requesting his services to teach her daughter how to ride a bike. She decided she’d spare the larger details - Leon’s pride had taken enough of a hit today. Claire loved him enough to spare him from the worst of the teasing her brother would no doubly inflict on the younger man.

She smiled to herself as she pulled her necklace out of Olivia’s hands before she could put it in her mouth. These were the kinds of moments she lived for - moments filled with laughter and love. Those were the feelings that she knew they would always remember even long after the memories faded.

Although, Claire would be hard-pressed to forget this particular memory. Just because she was sparing Leon from Chris’ teasing doesn’t mean he would be spared from her own.

[10moonymhrivertam]

Hello! A post by @west-moor got me thinking, and it resulted in this! This is a little left to the point of the post, but it just grabbed hold of my brain for a solid three days. It’s currently full of author’s notes, but I feel the Need to Share. (Please let me know if you’d like to see any of the struck-through bits revisited!)

Warnings: Renfri’s backstory mentioned throughout (rape tw); Jack Harkness-style immortality (death tw, not permanent)

Concept: With a little bit of timeline nudging, Jaskier could be Renfri’s son

“Dandelion, come here before I go.” Renfri held out her arms, and Julian dashed forward, snuggling into her. She squeezed him. “I want you to make me a promise, okay?” Her voice was soft but raw. Julian frowned - this must be serious. 

“What kind?” He asked, refusing to let go of her. She rested her chin on the top of his head. ((she’s grateful she doesn’t have to look him in the eye))

Renfri sighed, tracing patterns on his back. “The [hard/important/??] kind. What I’m about to do...it might get me in trouble. I -“ Renfri hugged him tighter. “I might not be able to get back home.”

“What?” Julian’s voice went up, and Renfri shushed him gently, kissing the top of his head. 

“I want to. I’m going to try to. But this is dangerous, Dandelion. Even so, I have to take this chance. I’m so sorry.” Renfri took a breath. “But I need you to promise me, Julian, that if I don’t come home...you won’t do anything about it.” She squeezed him, so he didn’t shout like he wanted to. “No matter what you hear. No matter what Stregobor might do. That bastard cannot have you, do you understand?” Julian squirmed, and Renfri loosened up her hug with an apology, finally pulling back to look at him. “I don’t trust him not to use any excuse he can to hurt you, too. So we’re not going to give him an inch. Not a thing he can twist about you the way he did me. Alright?” She cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “So that’s the promise. No revenge. I don’t care what else you do, love - swordplay or poetry, or -“ She grasped for a third option, shook her head when she couldn’t seem to find one. “Anything but revenge. Promise?”

“Promise, Mummy.” Julian saw her eyes go misty. ST ? It was probably because he’d called her Mummy instead of Renfri. That’s what everyone else called her, and she was fine with him doing it, too. [Also draws less attention than Mummy] But sometimes, when he was scared or when something was important, Mummy meant so much more ? ST

*****

Fuck, but it had been hard without Renfri. It seemed like it would be fine, at first. Renfri had left him with her friend Gina; Gina lived in Oxenfurt; and he kept living with Gina; so it was easy to badger the Academy into accepting him when his interests turned to poetry. (He ignored the pang he felt at the memory of his last promise to his mother.)

Since then...well, he was just glad Gina was an innkeeper and had seen every trick in the book for getting food, some less underhanded than others. He stuffed the bread into his pants - he wasn’t likely to be able to eat here in peace, not with everyone...

Jaskier’s eyes caught on the corner and narrowed. Not everyone. He’d thrown neither bread nor coin. Strange - even people nominally without opinions usually got caught up in the energy of a room. He hopped to his feet, grabbed an ale, and crossed the room. He’d expected it to be a little harder to wheedle a review from the stranger, considering he claimed he was there to drink alone, but he came right out with his opinion once Jaskier sat down across from him. Now Jaskier got a good look at the whole of him, though, besides that stand-out hair. His eyes were golden.

“White hair....big, old loner. Two very -“ Jaskier’s words caught in his throat. The hilt that peeked just barely out of the [bag (technical term?)]. He couldn’t look away from it. “Very,” he managed to find his voice before it could be suspicious. “Scary-looking swords. I know who you are.”

Geralt stood. [second instinct>] STDismay filled Jaskier. That was his mother’s brooch. Seeing it made his heart ache, and he wanted a piece of her - any piece of her - back. He tried to stop him by drawing attention, but it only landed Geralt a job. Well. A job would keep him in Posada long enough to talk, wouldn’t it? So he followed, letting his mouth run wherever it would. He surprised himself a little with the optimism in “death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak”.ST

[first instinct>] Jaskier nearly saw red. The Witcher didn’t get to just walk away with his murdered mother’s brooch. Drawing attention to Geralt didn’t work quite as well as he’d hoped, instead landing him a job. Jaskier hurried after him, not wanting to give him any chance of escape. He let his mouth run as it would, taking a kernel of malicious glee in pointing out the onion scent. Geralt either had a very good poker face or quite thick skin, or both. He surprised himself with the optimistic tone in “death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak”. After all, Geralt had already brought him two of those things directly.

“Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the - the Butcher of Blaviken.” He relished the taste of the title in his mouth. The way it hung in the air was viscerally satisfying. He shouldn’t have gotten caught up in it. It made the fist seem like it came out of nowhere. 

He couldn’t catch his breath back. He’d had the wind knocked out of him once before, falling out of a tree. It had seemed like it had taken hours for Renfri to come to him and hold his hand. It was probably barely minutes, if that. The panic stretched time. Long enough for him to remember his promise to Renfri and break his own heart. He’d nearly broken his promise. Over a piece of jewelry - a sentimental improvised weapon, but far from as useful as the daggers he hid on his person. 

When he could breathe again, he straightened to find Geralt hadn’t moved far. He seemed to be checking the horse’s reigns, but coincidentally finished just as Jaskier straightened up. Well. That was almost cute. Jaskier dug claws right into a tender title, and Geralt waited to make sure he hadn’t done permanent damage. He suppressed a smile. 

“You really do pack a wallop!” He crowed. He regretted it a little, his stomach still aching. “What’s this going to take, two minutes?”

Geralt ignored him, mounting Roach. Jaskier hurried to keep up, still talking.

*****

As he talked, Jaskier realized his mother would’ve disapproved. Home wrecking wasn’t puppy-murder, but it was still something Stregobor might use should he ever find out Julian de Lettenhove was connected to the Black Sun. But there was nothing to be done about it, now. It didn’t technically break his promise, and it did too many wondrous things for his mental health to simply go without.

Jaskier was tired of this semantic argument, and they’d only had it twice before. The first time Jaskier had called Geralt a friend, and the first time he’d called him his best friend. He was all too happy to turn the conversation back to the night’s contract, and years of living at an inn had him snatching away Geralt’s ale with barely a thought. There was work to be done, and drink made everyone slow, even Witchers. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jaskier dismissed, setting the ale gently on the dresser. “You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time.” You got involved in Stegobor’s petty squabble. You killed my mother. But that would bring the mood down and might give Geralt the wrong idea. Real friendship had taken two years for Jaskier to admit to himself, and sometimes hurt still festered, but hate? It had all but vanished at Dol Blathana, listening to Geralt bargain for his life. Listening to him reason with the elves, Jaskier suspected he got a peek into his mother’s last few days. He had to stop thinking about it. He pulled a joke out of his ass and let the conversation carry itself. 

*

He had proven, via scorned lovers past, that he had a resistance to magic. It didn’t skirt away from him, not completely. But it was often less severe. However, a shockwave was a shockwave was a shockwave. 

***

A djinn was not a shockwave. And he thanked his mother, and Melitele - even Lillit for that. Because he could feel the djinn on the edge of his senses. Drowned, trapped, shaken, fought over: tired and hellishly angry. He should’ve dropped dead, his throat burst open. But no. There was the taste of copper in his mouth and he could hardly force air in and out, but he was alive. Barely. Because the djinn had underestimated the force it would need. As his head began to spin and he clutched desperately at Geralt, his mind took a few funny turns. Renfri would be disappointed in the wish about Valdo. Not against the letter of the promise, but the spirit - Stregobor could definitely use murder-by-djinn against him. Would Renfri think it was funny if he died in Geralt’s arms, when she had met her end at his hands? And make no mistake, he was dying despite the djinn’s miscalculation: that was Roach’s back. Even after a decade, he still didn’t get to ride Roach unless he broke a leg miles outside town. 

**

[Yenn POV of Jaskier definitely dying and coming back to life; deciding to make it her little secret???]

**

It was a spring snow, and Jaskier wasn’t dressed for it. He was pleasantly surprised when the puppy eyes he gave Geralt got a non-frowning eye roll. That was about as good as an exasperated laugh from Gina. Shortly afterward, Geralt had found a safe-ish cave, and Jaskier helped him to set up the campfire. Usually Geralt didn’t resort to an Igni to start a fire unless they were both running low on coin for supplies - better to have all his energy at his disposal if something came across them in the night. But the kindling was damp, and Jaskier was shivering. After the fire, Geralt rummaged around on Roach for a moment before producing a blanket to drape around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier smiled at him. 

For a while, there was only the sound of the whetstone as Jaskier warmed up. Once he felt a little better, though, out came Filavandrel’s lute. It had become something of a game over the years, to try to make Geralt’s sword-sharpening his metronome. He plucked mindlessly in time to the sound, his eyes only half-focused. Renfri’s brooch caught the light as Geralt worked. Jaskier didn’t even realize what he was playing until Geralt stopped, looking downright alarmed. Well, for him.

“Are you hurt?” Geralt demanded. Jaskier frowned at him. The change in his face meant he felt the tear tracks. Then, he realized what he’d been playing. He clamped his fingers down on the fret board, strangling the notes. 

“Fuck. No.” Jaskier wiped roughly at his face. “I...didn’t think I still knew that.” He focused on his instrument.

“Do you...not want to talk about it?” He supposed it made sense for Geralt to be unsettled - he did usually tell Geralt about all his woes. He’d just kept him away from the serious ones, the old ones, so far.

Jaskier swallowed. He unfolded his hand and slowly began to play again. “Little Viscount Dandelion,” he sang. “It’s time to rest your head. Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to eat your bread.” He hummed a little. “Little lord, oh little lord.” More humming. “Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to comb your hair. Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to cut through air.” It was five lines, at best. How was he crying again? Why couldn’t he go on? Renfri had stretched it out as he grew up. The first couplet had been easy. But as she’d wanted him to do more than go to sleep or to eat his dinner without a fuss, rhymes had gotten harder. He’d helped her rhyme them, and she would sing it while he laid down to sleep, or while she combed his hair. Sometimes she would teach him to fight to it. “‘S just a silly kids’ song.” Jaskier said thickly.

“Nothing silly about something that makes you think.” Geralt looked down at his sword, his thumb skimming across the edge of Renfri’s brooch. Jaskier couldn’t stop staring at it now. Geralt must have caught his line of sight. “Even you’ll think less of me if I tell you where this came from.”

“No, I won’t.” He didn’t mean for his voice to be so low, so mournful. And the sincerity had to be confusing. 

“I killed the woman it belonged to.”

“In Blaviken?” He was relieved it sounded like a guess. Geralt grunted in grave affirmation. 

“It’s from Creyden, I gathered,” Geralt continued. 

“Princess Renfri’s.” Please, just let his voice not sound funny to Geralt.

“Not a Princess after what Stregobor[‘s meddling got her stepmother (to do)]did to her.”

“I imagine not,” Jaskier murmured. His hands clenched around his lute. Sometimes he wished his mother hadn’t told him about the man who sired him. But she had never, not even once, held it against him. 

“You should sleep, Jaskier. It’s not going to clear up before tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he agreed in a whisper. He rolled out his bedroll and curled up as close to the fire as he dared. If he hummed Renfri’s song and cried himself to sleep, only Geralt and Roach could say so. 

***

[mountain? Or just...skip the mountain, cuz it’s overdone and I don’t imagine much changes]

***

ST Jaskier stopped suddenly. Ciri noticed first and tugged Geralt to a stop. Jaskier turned on his heel and retraced several of his steps, stopping in front of a pair of [idle gossipers(?)].

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.” He flashed them a quick grin so patently false that be even saw Geralt wince out of the corner of his eyes. “You said Gina of Oxenfurt’s in town?”

“Apparently she knew Jaskier before Toss A Coin. She keeps tryin-a find him, she said.”

“Right, right. Who did you say she’s with?”

“Ffffffrida,” the other one said slowly, far too drunk for so early in the afternoon. “Of Let-something.”

“Lettenhove?” 

“Hey, yeah!” They frowned then. “Did you need to talk to them?”

“Would help, yeah.”

“Right. They’re at the market,” the first one declared. The other frowned. 

“No. The [otjer place]”

Jaskier’s heart roared in his ears as they fought, and he charged out to go looking himself. Gina wouldn’t let just anyone use Lettenhove - she knew what it had meant to Renfri, the pretend city she’d given him because she could. Jaskier snarled as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he prepared for a fight. 

“Which one were you checking?”

“[place]

[Renfri back, bitches. I might prefer this pre-mountain tho idk. Best for Julian’s blood pressure if he finds her first instead s of Geralt finding her.] ST

*****

“Julian.” Jaskier froze. Then he nearly cursed himself out - there would be no denying after-the-fact that the name had anything to do with him. He stood there and clung to the strap of his lute, trying not to lose himself in swirling negativity. He turned, surprisingly controlled. He frowned at seeing it was Borsch. 

“I prefer Jaskier.” Well, at least his voice stayed even. He tried to settle himself, putting his arms at his sides. 

“Come with me, my boy. Didn’t you tell our companion you’d be getting the rest of the story?” His tone was complicated. He’d obviously noticed Jaskier had no intention of doing anything but going straight down the mountain, but there was a painful gentleness to his request. Jaskier followed just to shed the itch of vulnerability. He could hardly believe what he saw there [in the cave]. At least until he turned to speak to Borsch and fell flat on his arse with an undignified Yelp. Alright, then. Gold dragons. Rarest. That’s how he’d smiled like he knew better than a Witcher. 

ST“I sought out the Witcher for a number of reasons. The first being that I have, on occasion, insights into the course of destiny. The second being the way your songs painted him. Destiny showed me a number of paths. And I may have guessed at the wrong one, given the knowledge of what occurred in Blaviken. But I heard your songs, and destiny told me of you. I am relieved I let faith dictate my choice.”

[dialogue I don’t wanna deal with hammering out at work]

[Borsch revealing the Jack Harkness thing “there are some creatures on this Earth who are not slated to meet their makers even should they fall to tooth, claw, or blade.” Etc; mentioning Deidre as an “aunt”, maybe suggesting Eskel assumes she’s dead as well and maybe he should fix that; intro of idea that Renfri would call other girls of the black sun his aunts]ST

STBorch didn’t speak, letting Jaskier stare, his mouth flapping soundlessly. 

“You hired Geralt,” he eventually managed. 

“Yes.”

“For - protection?” He guessed, face screwing up in a sort of frustrated confusion. ST

“Fuck!” It felt good to swear. It made the loss, the anger, the confusion, and the heartbreak feel less intense. 

“The baby does have some understanding of the world, if you don’t mind.” Borch’s voice was terribly mild. Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut - he never was good at keeping it that way for long, though, not that Renfri or her men had ever minded. Gods, that was so long ago, now. 

“No one’s called me Julian in thirty years.”

ST“Will you keep your promise to your mother, even now?” Borch asked, softer than Jaskier would’ve believed possible. Jaskier sighed, curling in on himself and covering his face.

“He would deserve it if I broke it.” His voice was dark and angry. A moment later, he curled deeper in on himself. “No, he doesn’t. That bastard.”ST

“With all that’s happened today, I think it is safest if you know something in advance, Viscount Pankratz.” Jaskier looked up furtively, trying to make sure no one heard. When nothing stirred, he fixed his gaze on Borch. 

“There are some individuals in this world who are destined not to meet their makers until a god is satisfied with their work here. Wounds that should end them will not stick; substances that shouldn’t be inside them will be expelled one way or another; some days they will wake up and find that wrinkles they had the day before have retreated.” Borch looked at him. Jaskier frowned, a crease forming in his brow. “Many of Lilit’s chosen fall into that category.” The words settled slowly into his mind, his frown deepening. 

“Not all of them?”

“Not all. But - some. Including your mother.” Jaskier’s breath hitched. Borch fell silent. It felt like Jaskier’s mind was racing, but he couldn’t have articulated one single thought on his mind. He scrambled to his feet.

“I have to -“ Where before he’d felt lost, his tether of twenty years cut, now he had new purpose. “Thank you. Sorry.”

“You’re very welcome. Take care, Jaskier.”

Jaskier babbled another goodbye as he raced to start back down the mountain. 

***

[thing from receipt in work jacket pocket about Valdo discovering Gina isn’t Jaskier’s mother.]

“It’s what bards did at the Academy, make fun of each other,” Marx claimed. “It’s all in good fun, picking at your opponent’s mother. Nobody means what they say.” Geralt stated dubiously at Valdo Marx. Were students really that stupid? “We were at the inn - fairly traditional setting. Everyone knew it was where Jaskier was from, too. The regulars all knew him; Gina roped him into chores on the weekend. I was up first. I’d cultivated my set carefully. Nothing that might actually hurt Gina’s feelings.”

“But you were wrong,” Geralt rumbled. Otherwise, there’d be no story to tell - he’d learned that much from Jaskier. 

“Found out when he put a dagger to my throat, and I was the one Gina kicked out over it. Gave me a lifetime ban, but... did me the courtesy of explaining, a few years back. It hadn’t been all that long, in the grand scheme. His mother had gone traveling and never made it back. It was a mistake,” Valdo insisted. “One anyone could make. Glad, in hindsight, that it was me, even if he still holds it against me.”

****

[Deidre and Jaskier meeting]

***

Vesemir was tucked into a shadow on the battlements. He was glad he’d been in the courtyard; inside, the stone might’ve blocked their voices. But he’d been hearing them for a while now, giggly and serious in turns.

“Whose idea was this? All this trouble and they’re not even likely to be home.” The man’s voice had turned from giggles to complaints the closer they drew. 

“Mm. Yes. Terrible idea.” The woman sounded terribly amused. 

“Fuck you.” His voice was light. 

“Language!”

“Oh, fuck off!” He laughed.

“I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. It’s my right as an ‘aunt’.” Laughter, a pause. “How often were you mistaken for siblings?”

“Usually as soon as I opened my mouth and called her by her name instead of, y’know, Mum.”

“Figures.”

“Oh!” The man said after a beat of silence.  “Oh, towers! Oh, thank fuck, this mountain is too damn tall.”

[more break in]

They were rather a motley pair as they stood before Vesemir. [Deidre] and the brightly-dressed man who was probably a bard, to be carrying his lute this far. 

“Well, you see - sir,” the bard amended. Then he stopped. Frowned. “Where do I even start?”

“Your mother?”

“Bad decision.” He shook his head at her. “Too much, too fast.” He paused again. “Well.... A dragon told me to find my Mum because she didn’t stay dead. But it’s been thirty years and I didn’t know where to look. Ran into Deidre first. Mum always talked about other Black Sun princesses as sisters. I was interested. She heard me out. Have to say, the ‘Witcher’s child surprise’ thing gave me a headache. But when she told me it was a Wolf, well - I knew generally where Kaer Morhen is, and we thought it would be funny if we. Um. Dropped in. Especially since it’s Summer so the consequences are minimal.”

This bard knew too damn much. “Are you Jaskier, then?”

“Ah. I hoped it wasn’t quite so obvious.” Suddenly, tentative hope bloomed behind his eyes. “You’ve heard of me?”

[All Geralt talks about. Other princesses? ~~ Ah yes well no easy way to say this mine is one too. It’s Renfri. No, Geralt doesn’t know. About any of this. And please don’t tell him! well, you’re actually supposed to tell them all Deidre and her nephew came by, to make Eskel sweat, but - hand wring - don’t connect Jaskier and Julian in their heads, if you can avoid it?]

*****

Jaskier had a hand pressed to Roach’s neck as they walked. It was both easier and harder going this way than breaking in. He liked the directness of it, but he hated the cold. Ciri shifted on Roach and leaned down a little to fuss with the cloak Geralt had made him wear.

[Vesemir has found Renfri; reunions, identity confessions, etc...]

***

[hm. To mention all the ammo Stregobor could potentially have against him and then not having a Stregobor plot is about as distracting as an unused rifle on the wall.]

[spyoikawa]

I still haven’t figured out how to use tumblr correctly so hopefully this gets sent to the correct spot hehe.

I wanted to request tulips or peonies(you can choose!)

Haikyuu pls 🥺

Some things about me, I’m 16, Capricorn, enfj but like barely.

Physical characteristics:

- short. like 5’ short.

- black hair with ombré bleached(I cut most of it off during quarantine)

- Asian and bilingual

- she/her

- I wear glasses or contacts depending on the day

Some personality traits;

- indesisive but also impulsive

- stay neutral on most things, but if I have an opinion I’ll fight for it with my life

- really energetic and outgoing but also kinda shy?

- I don’t care what others think and I’m really determined if I put my mind to something

Idk if this says anything but I’ve confessed to like 3 guys I’ve liked LOL ✋😃

I’m school smart and street smart(maxing AP classes but like barely tbh) and my favorite subject is science. I do like to complain about school a lot and I’m always stressed.

I prefer books>movies, and I don’t like watching movies or shows that much

Hobbies:

- reading

- reading

- litterally i just love reading

- I love being outside and I c o u l d be athletic if I tried.

- kinda lazy tho

- sleeping

- I sleep or lay in bed and read a lot

-diys

The person I would have a crush on would be:

- extroverted preferably cause I need someone to match my energy, honestly maybe even by crazier than me :P

- not too tall, so a short boi would be nice

- outgoing/confident but not cocky

- nice and encouraging?

- street smart maybe( preferably smart in school but if not oh well)

- I would say athletic but everyone in haikyuu is litterally playing a sport-

- funny

Hopefully I requested this correctly 👉🏻👈🏻

And your writings so nice I can’t believe I only just found ur acc! Sorry if this was rly long ahhhhh 💗💗

@do-you-have-sc

You 🤝 Me

Not knowing how to use Tumblr

Thank you for enjoying my writing and I don't mind long requests at all! Thank you for this!

also- I was so happy to see you put down your type and who you get crushes on, that makes my job a lot easier and almost guarantees I can give you a character you like!

h o w e v e r -

I kinda went off tracks with this one

👁👄👁💧

Rion's Flower Shop: Tulips

Please consider the following:

Bokuto Kotarou

you never know what to expect amirite? 😀😀😀

Relationship Dynamic

♡chaos waiting to happen, but in a good way?

♡opposites but the same?

♡while you are indecisive and impulsive, he is very decisive and impulsive. It’s really hit or miss on whether or not you make good decisions together

♡you don’t mind what people think, but Bokuto is almost sheltered from harsh comments to keep him out of emo mode

♡you are very good with school, and is constantly stressed, however Bokuto has slightly lower grades (not horrible), but is not always stressed about it

♡but both of you are very determined and dedicated to something once you have your mind on it!

♡do you see what I’m getting out here?

♡you two are almost the perfect balance of each other, having similarities but being very different at the same time!

♡use this to your advantage! Combine your decision making to come up with the better impulsive decision, bring his spirits up and teach him to ignore harsh comments while he shows you sensitivity and other ways to see what people say, you bring him up in his studies and he helps you relax, and both of you will push each other to be their own best!

What you guys do together/What it’s like with them

♡Bokuto was probably the first to approach you!

♡he had noticed you reading the book for class and asked you to help him out a bit!

♡and over and over again he would keep visiting you about your books. Even if they weren’t for school and he had no interest in them, he just thought you were cool to hang out with :)

♡he also liked to look at your diys and have you teach him some, he likes to keep his hands moving as it helps him focus!

♡he was about ready to explode when he saw you show up to a game of his one day

♡after you start dating, he tries to make sure there's never a boring day in your life, at the very least you had one fun memory

♡whether its watching movies, then completely shit-talking them, comparing them to the books, or taking you out to do some random thing he heard of, or messing around on school grounds once his practice is over 

♡and his attempts at romance are the absolute best, the range goes from completely butchering old poems, to bringing you flowers he found outside, to yelling all the way across the hallways at you, to giving you little bits of origami

♡they’re all slightly embarrassing, but that doesn’t matter, they’re really sweet and its the thought that counts

What they like about you

♡is this even a question? he would probably love every bit of you, without reason

♡when he fell for you, he fell for all of you and he wouldn’t dare exclude a bit

♡but if he were to really choose, its your energy and enthusiasm! He enjoys having someone who can (somewhat) keep up with him and doesn’t get annoyed at the smallest things he does

♡its also great to have a chaos buddy

♡he finds it admirable how dedicated you are to your opinions, values, and projects. To care about something that much? Even if its just an idea, a theoretical bit with no physical value? Amazing. 👏👏👏

Me: *pairs you up with Bokuto*

*realizes you had a type*

Your type: smart, short boi, confident but not cocky

Me holding an over 6 foot himbo, almost (if not) overly cocky character: 👁👄👁 shit-

Seriously though, if I really fucked up, or even if you are just slightly unhappy with this, let me know and I would be thrilled to write for you again, I know I kinda went off on my own with this one-

*sighs* *inhales* HI WELCOME IF YOURE NEW, THIS IS A PART OF MY EVENT GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU LIKED THIS!

This is gonna get really old really fast-