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daveth-isnt-dead · 3 days ago

Text

To Feel Vicariously

Summary:

No matter how hard she tries to dream about him, to moan his name in the night with her hand buried between her thighs. The truth always returns like a thunderclap, the knowledge that if she were to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. He wouldn’t feel a thing. “I may have a solution to this quandary.” The Herald says softly, his thumb tracing her lower lip with something more akin to scientific curiosity than any sort of affection, “If you would be willing to indulge in some experimentation.”

Contains: she/her pronouns, explicit sexual content, bittersweet ending.

Word Count: 9,072

Read on AO3

It’s early the the evening, and the light of the setting sun creeps in through the multicolored windows of the greenhouse, casting shadows in the shapes of various plants across the floor. Usually, she would be home with her mother for dinner by now, but she can be stubborn and until she finishes her work she isn’t going to be able to get any sleep. So she ignores the setting sun as best she can. Most of the commune members milling about outside don’t pay her any mind, they know not to interrupt while she is busy.

She huffs a breath, as she continues working to repair one of the sprinklers before anyone else notices that it’s broken. She has already checked all the connections on this end of the pipe and found no issues, so all she can do is re-tighten the bolts she undid earlier and hope that she can locate the problem before sundown. It’s just as she struggles with the last turn of the wrench that she notices the Herald is standing outside.

He’s speaking to someone, gesticulating lightly and she follows the movement of his hands with probably too much rapt attention. The light of the sun turns his hair orange and casts a vibrant light across his reflective form that leaves him awash in summer-gold brilliance. There is work she should be doing, but the Herald is less intimidating from a distance and she likes to look when she can. Suddenly, his eyes meet hers through the glass walls and she freezes, still crouched on the ground with a wrench in hand. Her throat suddenly dries with reckless anticipation.

The Herald does start heading towards her and that makes her hands start shaking. She drops the wrench with a clang, cursing under her breath as she picks it back up and tries to calm her racing heart.

“Are you alright?” He asks, looming in the open doorway, casting a shadow in his shape across the floor that stops just before her toes, “The irrigation hasn’t been causing you trouble, has it?”

She knows the Herald. Knows him by a name that remains just out of reach, trapped somewhere in the corners of her mind, knows him by a smile that she can barely remember, knows him by golden eyes that no longer exist. The face she thinks used to be his ripples and shifts, incomprehensible the moment she tries to grasp for it. It’s been a long time. Eight years, at least. Long enough that she shouldn't even remember as much as she does.

It's the moments of specificity that shock her. Send her reeling. She remembers that his left canine was slightly longer than the right, so it was always the first thing she saw when he smiled. Remembers exactly the way he took his coffee, is unsure if he could even drink it now if she made him a cup. His name though, his face, all she has is figments, a memory of how it felt to pronounce each individual letter, an approximation of cheekbones and eyebrows (one mole beneath his eye, she remembers that) and nothing but a blur in-between.

Looking at the Herald doesn’t help, no matter how much she tries. His face is just as much an approximation as the one in her mind. Thinner, sharper. The hollows of his cheeks an unfamiliar, iridescent whorl. A mole rests above his lip, but the one under his eye is gone and that’s the one she remembers. She hasn't told her mother, it would be pointless to tell her that she has a vague memory of the Herald from almost a decade ago, that she used to call him by name every morning, though the name now slips through the gaps in her teeth anytime she tries to feel the sound of it in her mouth again.

Tongue touching her bottom teeth, a sharp uptick and then a lilting, rolling sound at the end. Her brow furrows, chasing the movements, hoping to connect them back to the letters they mimic. Failing as always.

So it doesn't matter, because she doesn't really know the Herald at all.

She blinks, feeling her palms sweat, “No, no it’s fine. Low water pressure, I think there might be a pinch in the line.”

He crosses the room to her, his bare feet don’t make a single sound on the ground beneath and the orange light of dusk is like a misty halo eclipsed by the back of his head. His movements exude divinity, even as he debases himself by dropping to a crouch at her side. She scurries back a little, knocking over a nearby watering can with a clatter. The Herald continues looking at her, much closer now that they are for once, on the same level. She swallows, hating the way her eyes betray her by dropping to the gentle arch of his lips.

“Might I offer some assistance?” He asks quietly.

His eyes are a shifting, opalescent rainbow and his gaze is pointed, intense. She knows from her mother, that the Herald does more than just heal with his touch, she mentions hearing his voice in her head whenever she might need him. It occurs to her that his accustomation to being inside the minds of so many commune members all at once may have affected his understanding of personal space. The Herald leans in closer again, their noses are almost touching, and she has to catch herself on her hands when she almost topples backwards.

“Aren’t you busy?” She squeaks, trying to keep her face as far from his as she can. “Not presently.” The Herald replies, resting his hands on his knees, “Especially not, if assistance is required. You’ve made great contributions to this commune, it would not do for me to leave you to your own devices when help can be provided.”

Her brow furrows. Unsure how to respond to the Herald offering his assistance with irrigation repairs of all things, “Wouldn’t it be…I don't know, beneath you?”

His expression shifts minutely, a minuscule tension in his jaw, a pinch in his brow. Enough that she can only assume she’s offended him.

“Sorry!” She says quickly, “I-I didn’t mean that you couldn’t do it, just that I’m sure you have much more important things to do, I’m sorry.”

“Anything that you are willing to offer the commune, I am willing to offer in equal measure.” He responds evenly, the metallic thrumming undertone of his voice sending shivers up her spine, “Evolution is not so singular that only my actions will bring forth change. Our coalescence, our joined contributions, are necessary for our pilgrimage along that fated path. So please, allow me to help.”

She swallows thickly, eyes helplessly drawn to the sharp golden tendrils climbing up either side of his throat, “Um, Sure.” She averts her eyes, staring down at the ground instead, “We have multiple lines connecting into the sprinkler system, I’m not sure which one the pinch is in so…” she braves another look at him, only to feel her cheeks flushing when she realises that he’s leaned in close again. Close enough that she notices some of his eyelashes are blonde like the mismatched strands of hair that hang around his neck, “You could check the pipes east of the commune while I check the ones to the north?”

“Consider it done, then.” The Herald says, returning to his feet without even needing to use his hands for balance. It looks like his body is all metal, at least when the light catches on it, but he moves like it weighs nothing at all, “I will meet you back here.”

“Oh, yes, no worries.” She stammers, discombobulated at the sight of him peering down at her, “See you then, I guess.” The Herald inclines his head in her direction once, and her heart stutters when she realises that it is a bow. Then he turns and leaves back out the way he came. She had stopped breathing at some point, she can't remember when and it takes her a minute to catch her breath again. Interactions with him always leave her in pieces. Something to do with the immensity of him, the way it feels like he takes up so much space in a room, sucks up all the oxygen just by being there. Though that isn’t all it is. She still can’t escape her blurred memories of him, unable to be wrenched from the depths of her subconscious no matter how hard she tries.

She’s been living here for a few months now, and he hasn’t done anything to jog her memory. While she recalled his accent in a desperate rush when he first welcomed her and her mother to the commune, the intonation was all wrong, flat, lifeless. She remembers it being different, but different how she isn’t sure. Luckily she doesn’t see all that much of him, at least not anymore. He was very attentive the first few days after they arrived, especially to her. Probably because she was the first to decline his gift, but still ask to stay.

Her mother had been gravely injured in one of the skirmishes between the Chem Barons and Enforcers, arm wrenched from her shoulder, lungs full of Gray. She had heard vague notions of a healer somewhere in the Undercity, near the site of the long collapsed cannery and hoisted her mother’s remaining arm over her shoulders and carried her there as best she could.

The commune was a lot smaller than it is now, with only a few domed buildings and a small patch of flowers just beginning to grow. The Herald met them both at the gate as if he knew they were coming and she watched with a mixture of awe and trepidation as his mere touch regrew her mother’s arm and cleaned her lungs of the gas. Then, the Herald turned to her.

“N-No, thank you.” She’d replied in a panic when he inclined his hand towards her expectantly, “I’m fine, I don't, um-” He’d blinked at her slowly, rolling her words around in his head. Then, silently, his hand lowered back to his side. Though she caught a near imperceptible flex of his fingers like he was dispelling an ache.

“I’m just here for my mother.” She’d clarified, shying away from him, “I’d like to stay with her, if that’s…” She took a glimpse around the small commune, at all the people in matching white robes, each with his fingerprints already marked on each of their foreheads, “...allowed.”

The Herald had clasped his hands together, eyes staring directly into her own for a moment, before answering, “I do not turn people away, you are no exception.”

So she moved in with her mother, earning her keep by maintaining the water filtration and irrigation systems. It took almost a month for her to cart as much of their old belongings over from the other side of the Undercity as she could, but their odd domed house has started to feel like home. Her mother is a little different, there’s a lightness to her that shouldn’t be concerning, but still is. Even at her best, her mother loved to complain, about dirty dishes, about the weather, about the kind of music she liked listening to. Now though, she is always content, unsettlingly content.

Sighing, she pulls herself from the ground, eager to go check her side of the pipes before the sun starts setting properly. While she still feels strange walking around outside as the only non-official member of the commune, everyone else is still very polite. Offering waves and smiles whenever they see her. She tries her best to return the sentiment as she starts following the pipes north, but unlike them, she still maintains all her faults and she isn’t all that good at small talk. She used to be when it was her job. Back when she woke up before dawn to trudge her way across the bridge to Piltover and tried her hardest not to fall asleep on the trolley ride to the academy. It’s been a long time since then, and mechanical repair work never necessitated a friendly face, so one day, years ago, she hung it up at the door and didn’t put it on again.

The sun casts an orange glow across the commune, catching on the petals of yellow flowers and sending beams of coloured light across the landscape as it passes through the multicoloured glass that makes up most of the windows. There’s an eerie quiet when the commune settles in for the evening, she’s so used to the raucous sounds of the Zaun nightlife, loud drunken voices, and the occasional fistfight. The silence should be peaceful, but it only makes her feel like she’s being watched. Her feet carry her the rest of the distance, following the length of the pipes back to the nearest riverbank where the filtration tanks wheeze and groan. As far as she can tell, this set of pipes was in working order the entire way down, and while the tanks require some oiling and tightening, the water is still filtering correctly. Whatever issue the sprinkler is having must be on the other length of pipe. The Herald will be handling it, then. She briefly wonders how.

Did he have a background in engineering? She can’t remember. Her jaw tightens as she begins following the pipes back to the greenhouse, trying to remember if that was something he told her, or something she overheard. It may also have been something she made up, her memories from that time are always slipping through her fingers and sometimes she can’t resist the urge to fill the spaces with an approximation. The year after she lost her job in Piltover was stressful, she and her mother were barely able to rub two coins together. That year must account for her lapse in memory, she was on her feet every day, trying to find work anywhere, selling everything they could part with and it didn’t make any logical sense for her to reminisce. Thoughts about that old job, that old paycheck, that old customer, were pointless. She discarded them, picked up mechanics, taught herself how to repair broken pipes, heating and cooling units. Crammed every last bit of new information in her head and abandoned whatever she deemed unnecessary.

The cool breeze feels nice on the back of her neck where her hair is pulled up in a ponytail. She gives a polite wave to one of the commune members who is taking down some dry laundry from the washing line outside their house but otherwise continues singlemindedly on her trip back down the length of pipes. Thinking too much about the Herald is always dangerous, she ends up tangled in fragmented memories and complex emotions. She huffs, blowing some hair out of her face as the greenhouse comes into view in the distance.

Another of the things she remembers about the Herald, one of the things she remembers most vividly. Is that she was in love with him. Only a little bit, just enough that her heart would race when that face she can no longer remember came through the door. Enough that she would spend nights staring up at the ceiling and imagining what it would feel like if she had been bold enough to kiss him. How he would sound if her name escaped his lips in something teetering towards a moan. It’s the root cause of her discontent, the growth behind her ribs that she cannot untangle. The Herald’s face is unfamiliar, his voice is all wrong, but something in her heart remembers better than her mind does. Because the love has transferred.

Nights she used to spend desperately trying to recall the face she’s lost, are instead spent thinking about the one she has found in its place. Sometimes she doesn’t even bother moving her lips in the shape of familiar, but misplaced syllables, because it is easier to moan Herald instead. But, no matter how hard she tries to dream about him, to moan his name in the night with her hand buried between her thighs. The truth always returns like a thunderclap, the knowledge that if she were to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. He wouldn’t feel a thing. Some nights the reality is so disquieting that she can’t even bear to finish, but others, she squeezes her eyes shut, grits her teeth and pushes through anyway with tears beading in her eyes. The shame sinks in after.

The sun has almost made its way down behind the horizon when she makes it back to the greenhouse, the vivid orange glints off the glass and directly into her eyes. She has to shield her face with the back of her arm as she walks in through the open door and freezes in the middle of the room at the sight of the Herald crouched on the ground, holding her wrench and tightening one of the bolts on the sprinkler system.

He doesn’t look up when she comes in, just says, “The pinch was on my end of the pipes, which I am sure you have already surmised.” “I uh-” she swallows, trying to draw her eyes away from his tight grip on the wrench, “Yes, I figured that was the case.” “You've done great work maintaining the irrigation thus far.” He replies, giving the bolt one last turn that has the criss-cross of imitation tendons in his arms shifting just a little, “you caught that issue very early.” He stands from the floor, once again the picture of elegance and grace. Just being around him makes her feel like she is all knees and elbows, imperfect, fragile, “I'm thankful that you decided to remain in the commune, we gain a lot from your perspective.”

“Thank you, uh-” he steps in towards her, close enough now that she has to peer up to meet his eyes, “It's no problem, really.”

The Herald hums, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he leans in even closer. His eyes are turquoise now and then very quickly pink, dancing towards orange when his lips part and he breathed, “I am concerned about you.”

Her heart races, her palms begin to sweat, “What…why? Have I done something wrong?”

“Wrong is not the word I would use. You have seemed restless, preoccupied. I was wondering if there was something I could do.” The thoughts re-enter her mind, unbidden. Her lips tracing the length of his collarbone, leaning up to kiss the mark above his lips, hand digging tightly into his hair as her other hand slides up under his robe to find what lays beneath. Then the next thought follows, as always, his face expressionless, her touching and kissing and pleading, but him never taking any pleasure from the action.

“No, there isn’t.” She says, picking at her cuticles.

“But there is something you want, is there not?” He intuits, easier than she would have liked.

“I-” She sighs, peering up at his achingly familiar face, trying to find any inclination towards an expression on any of his features. The ache only grows deeper when his countenance remains completely neutral. She swallows dryly, “Do you, remember me, Herald?”

He hums quietly, though his expression remains unchanged, “I did think you seemed familiar.” his head cocks to the side in what she has taken to interpreting as curiosity, “Have we crossed paths before?” His brows pinch the slightest bit, in thought, she assumes, “Did you study at the academy, perhaps?” “No, I didn’t, I couldn’t, I’m from Zaun, I-” she bites her lower lip, trying to calm herself down and just get to the point, “I worked there for a few years, in the-” “The campus cafe.” The herald finishes before she can. Her heart stammers in her chest, a warmth like sunlight dancing out from her chest all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her next breath is shaky, thick with disbelief. For some time it feels like she might not even be able to speak, but she eventually manages a simple: “Yes.”

“You disappeared one day.” He elaborates, brows tugging together enough that she notices it, “I asked where you went, but the new barista said they didn’t know.” “I-I was let go. That explosion, the apartment. All the Zaunite employees at the Academy lost their jobs that day. Effective immediately.” All the words are coming out in a desperate rush, and her breath is hiccuping with every aching gulp, “I thought about coming back, to say goodbye. To leave a note or something, but if they caught me on campus I would have been arrested. I-” she laughs breathlessly, aware that it sounds more like a sob, “You were my favourite, you know? Not that it matters now, none of it matters now, not really I just-” she looks down at the ground and shrugs a shoulder, “I think I wanted you to know anyway.”

She hopes for something she can't have. For him to admit that he missed her as much as she missed him back then, that maybe he never stopped missing her. The Herald isn’t the person he once was, though and for a long time, all he does is stare at her, unsettlingly still. She can hear the sound of the soft breeze outside the greenhouse, see the light of the sun shifting from a bright orange to a dusky purple as it slowly dips below the horizon. In the deafening silence, she realises that the Herald’s body makes a sound, a quiet thrumming, a gentle lull beneath his skin. How has she never noticed before?

“Herald?” she stammers, desperate to break the silence.

“Yes?” He replies, once again leaning in close enough that she can count his eyelashes. This time she doesn’t feel the urge to move away from him.

“What’s your name? I don’t- I can’t-”

His brow tightens, and his head tilts to the side the tiniest bit. Her breath catches in her lungs, worried that this was a question she should never have asked. Then, he exhales a steady breath and answers, “It’s Viktor.”

Viktor.

That name, those two syllables collide with her like a punch to the gut. She is suddenly awash in memories of all the times she called out to him, the way his head would spin around, a smile, a perfect smile. Despite them never sharing more than a few words each morning, he still took care to remember her name, never rushed her, and smiled when he came to collect his cup from the counter. She knew he was the dean’s assistant, knew he took far too much sugar in his coffee and heard through the ever-churning rumour mill that he was from the Undercity like she was. He had honey-gold eyes that shone whenever they caught the sun and his name was- “Viktor.” She repeats quietly, languishing in the feeling of his name dancing across her tongue.

The Herald nods, still leaning in close, peering down at her with his expressionless, opalescent eyes. She wonders, then, how much of her old memories are even applicable anymore. How much of the Herald is Viktor and vice versa? If she lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek, would it be warm as she’d always imagined? Would the side of his throat still taste like sweat if she dragged her tongue against it?

“That was not all you wanted, was it?” The Herald asks softly, sending her plummeting back to painful reality.

“No it’s-” She turns from him, ashamed to even look him in the eye, “It’s not something you would be able to give.” she starts making to leave, muttering a quick, “I’m sorry.” as she heads to the door.

“Wait.” The Herald says, halting her at the precipice of the doorway. She clenches and unclenches her hands, awash in vibrating, nervous energy. It feels as if she will shatter into a million pieces the moment it reaches the right frequency.

“We do not have a direct connection, as I do with the rest of the commune, but I can still sense the ache tugging at you.” She can hear him draw closer, the shift of fabric around his ankles, “Allow me to help.” and then, softer, “please.”

It’s the please that does her in, that has her turning back around despite her decision to leave. She must be imagining it, but his voice sounds as if it wavered on that last word, that the metallic undertone vibrated a nervous discordance. He holds out his hand to her and she so craves the feeling of his palm against her own that she doesn’t think about what she is offering until her skin makes contact, stammering out a desperate, “N-No, wait don’t!” It’s too late. He knows. He knows instantly.

The Herald’s brows lift slightly, his mouth pinched in a straight line. She thinks he might be assessing her, silently and it makes her heart start to race. He releases her hand the moment she tugs it away, gently flexing his own fingers. As if to remember the feeling.

“I-I’m so sorry. I can leave, if you need me to, please, just-” she exclaims, clutching her hand to her chest like it will someone force the feelings he had taken back where they belong, “Just let my mother stay, please.” His next expression seems almost bewildered, though at this point she is beginning to believe that she has taken to ascribing whatever emotion best pleases her to the minute shifts of his eyes and mouth, “You think I would exile you from the commune?” He asks slowly, brows pulling together the slightest bit, “Over this?”

“You would have every right to.” She replies quickly, taking a step backward, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” “Have what?” He asks evenly, slowly, “Have been human?” he takes a careful step back towards her, wary of her desire to flee, “Had human thoughts?” his hand reaches out to press against her cheek without even an inclination of shyness or trepidation, “Did you think that I would deny you your humanity?” He whispers.

Now that he's touched her once, she can't resist letting him do it again and again, practically melting into the thrumming metal of his palm against her cheek. It isn't quite warm or cold, there's a fluctuation, a pulse, unfamiliar but far from unpleasant. She should stop him, her body is already growing so warm from just a chaste touch of his hand. He can certainly tell and she doesn't want him to do something just because he knows she wants it. Even though she does want it, immensely.

“No.” She breathes, “You have been kind, very kind, I just- I don’t want to take advantage of that kindness.” her breath catches as she says this, leaning into him further despite her words claiming she doesn’t want to do so.

“I may have a solution to this quandary.” The Herald says softly, his thumb tracing her lower lip with something more akin to scientific curiosity than any sort of affection, “If you would be willing to indulge in some experimentation.” “Experimentation?” She replies breathlessly. Her hands won't stop shaking, her body awash in a complex tangle of both nerves and excitement.

“Yes.” He responds evenly, “It is not something I have tried before, I haven’t had the need to.” his head tilts in closer to hers, the colour of his eyes swirling and shifting faster than usual, “Has this piqued your curiosity?” he asks and she must be imagining it but his tone sounds almost mischievous.

She swallows thickly, wringing her hands together, “It has.” a shaky breath, “Very much so.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, mouth settling into a shape that she interprets as satisfaction, “Would you follow me, then?”

She does. Nearly mindlessly. He leads her out the door of the greenhouse and up the sloped pathway to the central building where he usually resides. She has been inside once or twice, on the few occasions that she has needed something from him and not already found him outside. It’s not homey the way the space she shares with her mother is. Glass circles on the high walls of the domed ceiling do let in a good deal of light and she can only imagine the view of the stars through them under the cover of night, but it’s devoid of furniture or belongings and it makes her feel instantly guilty, even though he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of comforts.

As she follows the Herald in through the round opening and into the central chamber, she idly wonders how difficult it might be to locate a large circular rug for the space. Wonders further if he would even still feel the soft fibres between his toes if he walked across it. She files the notion away for later, regardless. It would be nice to get him a gift, something tangible for once, something more than acts of service.

He waits silently for her in the middle of the chamber, standing beneath a shaft of pale purple light that reaches in through one of the windows. It catches on his edges delicately, like a caress and he looks like the picture of divinity bathed in it. She suddenly feels her throat turn dry, remembering why exactly, she is here with him right now.

“You will have to come closer.” He says, holding a hand out to her.

She sucks an anxious breath in through her nose and takes several shaky steps towards him. His hand fits wonderfully in her own and it is nice to let him touch her without the fear of him pushing her away. The Herald continues staring at her in his usual fashion, likely sifting through her mind so long as they maintain skin-to-skin contact. She bites her lower lip and turns away from him, “W-Well, I’m here now…so…” The Herald steps in closer, leaning his face down towards hers, “Like this, the connection will be most potent.” He says quietly, forehead pressed firmly against hers, “Though if either one of us feels possessed to move,” he leans back and takes her hand, resting it on the top of his head, the meat of her palm pressed against his brow, and her fingers in his hair, “This will suffice.”

“O-Okay…” She swallows thickly, “What, um, what exactly will we be doing?” She thinks that he is smiling, though it is little more than a twitch at the corners of his mouth, “What you feel, the arcane will allow me to feel through you. Complete synchronicity, acute and exact.”

“Then…you will also enjoy it?” She ventures.

“So long as you do, yes.”

A rush surges through her veins at that, coalescing into a devious warmth between her thighs. Suddenly filled with images of his mouth hanging half open in a cry of ecstasy, his spine curling into a perfect exhilarating arch.

“Yes.” The Herald clarifies, “Like that.”

She feels her cheeks flush and she pulls back from him in a panic, “I-I’m sorry, I forgot that you could see-”

“There is no need to dissimulate.” He says, before she can begin to spiral. His hand takes hers once again, this time pressing it against his cheek, “You will have to let me inside you.” (another bolt of arousal at his choice of wording) “Or it will not work.” Her next breath exits her lungs in a delicate shiver, her voice feels thick in her throat, but she manages to whisper, “Okay.” then, with her eyes closed, “Go ahead.”

His forehead presses to hers again, and suddenly the metallic rush of the arcane fills her mouth and trickles down the back of her throat, for a moment it feels like she is drowning, that she will be unable to breathe. There's a flash of swirling nebula behind her eyes, an otherwise inky blackness continuing on for all infinity and it’s like she is rising, rising, rising. The Herald clutches to her, one arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders and the feeling of his breath on her face is what pulls her back down, allowing her to sink back into the comforting weight of her body.

The connection is established, and the Herald lets out a breathless moan immediately.

He laughs, (laughs!) and then whispers, “You are so aroused, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

How cavalier his acknowledgement is only makes her more aroused, but she instinctively rushes to deny it anyway, “No I-”

“There is little point in arguing.” He interrupts, “I can feel it.” “O-Oh…” she replies, relishing in the delectable zip that runs down her spine at the way his voice wraps lazily around his words. Their positioning is a little strange, she can’t quite see him with their foreheads pressed together, but she can feel his breath is more laboured than usual. Curiosity gets the better of her, “You still need to breathe?” she asks quickly. He hums, “Not in the same way you do. I can survive without oxygen, but the air circulation prevents me from overheating.” “You-You’re breathing quite quickly now.” “I am.” Her stomach is in knots, her heart has worked its way up to the base of her throat, “Does that mean that you’re…um…” “Hot?” He finishes for her, “It does.” Tentatively, she reaches a hand out, sliding up the length of his bare arm and sucking in a shaky breath at the feeling of pulsating warmth beneath his metallic exterior. The closer her hand moves to his chest, the hotter it becomes and when she grows bold enough to slip her hand under his robe and press her palm against where his heart would be, she can feel the incessant fluctuating thrum beneath her hand. It’s only when the Herald lets out another shaky moan that she realises how intensely she feels this intimacy between her thighs.

He follows her lead, the arm he had wound around her shoulders shifts as he slides his hand across her shoulder blades and up the side of her neck. She whimpers softly when his thumb runs up the length of her trachea, exerting enough pressure that her breath catches with the motion. A shaky exhale escapes the Herald’s mouth as he brings that hand down, dipping just beneath the low collar of her shirt to trace the line of her collarbone and that breath becomes a whine when his second hand joins the first and begins undoing her buttons. He must feel the enormity, the shivering desperation as he slowly pushes her unbuttoned shirt from her shoulders, slipping down until it catches in the crook of her elbows.

His hands are large and pulsing with incredible warmth as they reach out to wrap around the base of her ribcage, trapping her between them. Her breath stutters in her throat, her second hand jumping up to tangle in the hair on the back of his head, locking his forehead against hers. One of his hands slides up and over her brassiere and both their mouths open in a shaky moan at the feeling of him squeezing.

“You are very sensitive.” The Herald whispers, his thumb reaching up to rub a single circle around her nipple through the fabric. His following moan breaks halfway through, catching somewhere in the back of his throat. Her own moan is more shivery, breathless. Chest arching out towards him, desperate for more. The Herald slips his hand up under her brassiere and the feeling of his metal fingers pressing firmly into her soft flesh has her gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. A whine escapes the Herald’s throat, “It is…overwhelming.”

“What can I say? You overwhelm me.” She murmurs, breath catching as his second hand joins his first, dancing tantalising circles around both her nipples. The Herald doesn't respond, almost like he can’t. He pinches her nipples hard enough that she lets out a yelp and she feels his hips stutter forward when the sensation reverberates through him. It’s a curious and very human reaction. She’s addicted to it. Her hand slides down, fingers tucking under the array of straps at his side and gripping tightly to his thin waist, thumb rubbing along one of the raised, golden lines decorating his skin.

“Can you feel that?” She asks quietly. He gulps a breath and she feels him shake his head, “I cannot.” a whimper escapes from behind his teeth and he clarifies, “But I can feel how it feels for you when you touch me and that feels…very good.”

Her hand shakes when she lifts it up to grab one of his own, sliding it down from her chest to her stomach, “More, please.” she begs, her hand returning to its place on his waist.

He lets out a shivery sort of moan as the tips of his fingers trace just above the waistband of her pants, his breath hitches just as hers does, right when his digits disappear beneath the fabric. Her hand on his waist clings tightly and the one on the back of his head fists into his hair. Her knees feel weak like she might lose balance any minute as his fingers descend into her underwear. His next moan is guttural, all in the back of his throat when the pads of his finger bump against her clit. She lets out a punched-out sort of sound, hips stuttering out of her control at the feeling. It’s been a very long time since someone else has touched her, she’s so unbelievably wet and sensitive that another small circle of his fingers has her wanting to double over in ecstasy.

The Herald mutters something under his breath, all sharp constants, in a language she doesn't understand. His fingers continue tracing small, gentle circles around her swollen clit, his entire body shuddering with each featherlight touch and she isn’t faring much better. Her hands fumble in an attempt to get the straps at his waist undone, cursing out loud as her hands fall short of the task.

Understanding what she wants, the Herald removes his second hand from her breast, hissing out a moan as the flat of his palm brushes her nipple on the way down. The hand between her legs continues its ministrations as the other moves to the elaborate set of buckles at his waist and starts quickly unfastening them. She’s quickly distracted by one of his fingers sliding down between her folds and lightly brushing her entrance. She grits a moan out from between her teeth and the Herald makes a choked sort of sound that is quickly followed by the satisfying rustle of his robe coming undone.

Her hand slides down to his hip, momentarily shocked at the alien curve of it, its sharp protrusion from the rest of his narrow body. Her curious fingers quickly find that there is a dip underneath, an inch or two of empty space before her fingertips meet the joint where his leg connects. It should likely be more disquieting than it is, but the only realisation that comes to mind is how easy it will be to hook her fingers under his hip and grab.

So she does, grabbing tightly with both hands, in a grip so tight it might be painful if he could actually feel it. The Herald stutters a moan, more of those unfamiliar constants leaving his mouth in a rush as the tip of his finger finally presses inside of her. The sound she makes is nearly a sob, gripping white-knuckled to the unyielding solidity of his hips. Her cunt accepts his finger more than willingly when it slips the rest of the way in, curling up in a way that nearly has her seeing stars behind her eyes, that has the Herald whining and quivering under her grip.

“W-Wait, please.” She manages to stammer, resisting the urge to grind down on his finger. The Herald stills, though she still hears the frantic inhale of his breath. One of her hands moves from his hips and up to his face. At first, cupping his cheek and then slowly sliding up to the position he taught her. Fingers on the top of his head, base of her palm against his brow. The Herald slowly leans his head back, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in a while. The swirling rainbow of his irises has quietly settled somewhere in the direction of orange, but with his next blink, the colours begin shifting again. His lips are beautifully well-bitten, and while there is no flush on his high cheekbones, the lax expression on his face makes him look utterly wrecked. Her lip curls just a little, at the thought of her own human feelings so thoroughly debasing him, forcing him back into the imperfect box of humanity for just a moment.

It’s tentative, nervous, when she tilts her head up in his direction. Despite his hand down her pants and one of his fingers still buried in her cunt, this, a kiss. It feels too far, too fragile and dangerous at the same time. The Herald doesn’t move, but he must feel her own racing heart because his breath quickens again as she slowly leans in, feeling that desperate breath across her lips. He doesn’t kiss back at first, her lips meet his just once, testing the waters. When she pulls back his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

She’s shaking, gulps down a nervous breath that does nothing to calm her nerves, “Herald?” “Yes?”

“Can- Can I call you-” His free hand reaches up and cups her cheek, he leans in close, in that way that used to unsettle her and whispers, gently, “You may.”

“Viktor,” A weight lifts from her, something inadvisable settling syrupy and warm within her veins. Her lips meet his again, though this time he kisses back and against the softness of his lips she breathes, “Please keep touching me.” The finger inside her curls up once again, sliding in and out of her at a tortuous pace that has the both of them gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. She spreads her legs a little, to make it easier for him, mouth opening beneath his and keening loudly at the feeling of his tongue meeting hers. It must be strange for him to match her movements when he doesn’t feel his own end of the exchange, so when his tongue traces her upper row of teeth and licks at her own just the way she likes it, she can only assume that it’s muscle memory. A second finger joins the first inside her and the Herald exclaims her name in a broken moan, which has a bolt of arousal zipping down between her thighs that he then also feels. It’s a feedback loop, a circuitous tangle, his pleasure is her pleasure and vice versa. She can tell that he is having some trouble maneuvering his hand from within her pants, the crook of his fingers is still utterly delectable, but his movements are stiff. Being careful to keep her hand pressed firm against his brow, lest their connection sever, she brings her other hand down to the buttons on her pants, struggling to get them undone.

The Herald pushes her hand out of the way, “Permit me.” He breathes into her open mouth.

She lets out a whine of disappointment when the fingers inside her retreat for just a moment, joining his other hand on the front of her pants, undoing her buttons and slowly inching the fabric down her thighs. The Herald presses a wet kiss to the side of her throat and then surprises her by dropping to his knees to help tug both her pants and underwear the rest of the way down her legs. She feels an odd sense of satisfaction, seeing him knelt beneath her with her hand atop the crown of his head. It’s as if she is curing him of an ailment he didn’t know he could possess anymore, something of the body, something wet and writhing and so imperfectly human.

“Viktor…” She whispers, just to feel the taste of those letters on her tongue again.

He hums beneath her, swirling, half-lidded eyes peering up from between her legs. One of his hands slides up from her knee to her hip and his mouth drops open in a whine at the resounding shiver that sends up her spine. Then, the moment she imagines that mouth of his on her cunt, he leans forward to do exactly that. The hand she has on his head tightens, yanking hard at his hair when the warm curl of his tongue meets her oversensitive clit. Her whole body shudders and she feels his hand on her hip grip tight, him moaning desperately against her, shaking just as much as she is.

His second hand lifts, gliding up the inside of her opposite thigh and she watches in utter bewitchment as the disheveled fabric of his robe slips off his shoulder and pools around his kneeling form. He’s a vision in the pale light, an intricate interlace of purple and gold that shines under her delicate observation. With his face still buried in her thighs, she can see the full length of his spine, the sharp jut of his shoulders and the mess her grasping fingers have turned his hair into. She feels, more than she hears, him moan against her again and her cheeks warm when she realises the way she feels even observing him, is enough to make him moan.

The next brush of his tongue has her hips stuttering out towards him, her breath catching in her throat. Her other hand joins the first on his head, gripping tightly to the base of his skull for purchase. His mouth opens in a guttural moan, fingers continuing their journey up and gently brushing against her entrance, teasing her with the promise of resumed penetration. She feels him shiver beneath her when two fingers easily slip in, though only to the first knuckle, and again when his tongue brushes around her clit in a light circle. The sounds he is making beneath her are evangelical, the combined vibration of his human tone and the mechanical rumbling underneath. Her breath comes fast, hips gyrating, desperate for more of his tongue, his fingers, his noises.

“More, please.” She stammers out, sweat beading on the back of her neck, jaw tensed as her body inches closer and closer to its peak, “Please, Viktor.” He grunts against her, mouth still working against her clit, licking and sucking as he finally slips both of those long long fingers all the way inside her. Their moans intermingle when those fingers crook up, she tosses her head backward and he buries his head somehow deeper between her thighs. The hand he has gripped to her hip holds her so tight that she can imagine there will be bruises and even that thought has them both moaning again. She’s getting close, her knees are struggling to hold her weight and she can feel the amalgam of his saliva and her own slick coating her inner thighs. Her head lolls forward, body too loose and shaky to keep it upright anymore, whimpering and panting as his tongue continues circling circling.

“Wait.” She croaks, throat aching from all the moaning she has been doing.

The Herald stops, pulling back from between her thighs and peering up at her, the opalescent swirl of his irises has been completely swallowed by his pupils, eyes blown wide. His mouth drops open in a quiet moan, the response to her own arousal at seeing him so utterly debauched beneath her.

She swallows, forcing her shaky legs to obey as she brings herself down to the floor, sitting up on her knees so she doesn't obstruct his hand where it still rests between her legs. Her breath comes quickly, her mouth dry and she leans in towards him, “I want you to feel it completely.” she whispers, pressing her forehead to his again, hands sliding down from his head and gripping his bare shoulders, “Please.” A shaky breath leaves him, hitching when his fingers move within her the smallest bit, “Do not concern yourself with that.” he breathes, “I feel everything. Every quiver, every shake.” his fingers crook upward and she cries out, his moan is more subdued and he continues, “I feel that vividly, a pleasure so precise that it nearly aches.” his thumb moves upwards, circling her clit, the both of them release a drawn out whine, “This is different, twitching, frantic. It feels like too much and not enough at the same time. Addictive and maddening.” “Please, Viktor, please.” He lets out a grunt, fingers returning to their previous pace, a rhythmic in and out, curling up exactly where she needs it, “And when you say my name, I feel that too. A more complex feeling, incomparable.”

She hates to ponder what feeling that is, but she feels it too. A growing warmth, a softness. She ignores it for now, losing herself in the raising pleasure between her thighs, the tightening, aching build. The Herald’s free hand grabs the back of her head and she mirrors him, locking their foreheads together, her hips writhing and grinding into his fingers, but desperate not to lose their connection. She needs it, for him to finish with her, whatever that might mean for him. Now though, with her eyes squeezed shut and nothing but the sound of their mingling moans, she can’t help but imagine his eyes are gold.

“M’close.” She whines, gritting her teeth, crying out as she feels the intrusion of a third finger. He can feel what she does and knows what she needs before she asks for it. The moment she needs him to speed up he already has, when she is about to ask for more focus on her clit, he is already doing it. Every single one of her moans is followed by one of his, she can feel him shaking, and hear his rapid breath. The tension grows nearly painful, she’s desperate, hungry and then suddenly, all at once, the tension snaps, she sees white behind her eyes and then she sees black.

She tumbles for a moment, her body weightless, spinning and twirling in a sea of darkness. It’s like she’s been winded, no matter how much she breathes it just doesn’t take and then for just a moment she can see him. A face she had forgotten, a smile she had tried so hard to recall in her dreams, crooked teeth, a mole on his upper cheek.

“Viktor?” She has time to whisper, reaching out to him, scrambling to find purchase somewhere in the void.

He whispers her name back and his voice holds so much emotion that she nearly wants to start crying.

His eyes are so beautiful, so golden and-

Her breath returns. Her knees ache on the hard floor and she winces as the feeling of three fingers sliding out of her. There are tears stinging in her eyes and the Herald’s hand lifts gently to wipe them away. She peers up at him, despite the tangled mess of his hair and his heavy breath, she still can’t make any true sense of his expression. The sun has completely set outside now, the only light is the pale shine of the moon casting a beam in through the ceiling. It’s cold. She feels cold.

“Are you alright?” He asks evenly, head tilted to the side the way it so often is.

She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the tears, “Yes, I’m sorry, I don’t-” she laughs weakly, removing her hands, “Did you um-” “Yes.” He’s giving her one of those almost smiles again, and it’s better than nothing, “When you did.” It’s a little uncouth, but she can't resist peering down between his legs.

“I do not have genitalia, if that is what you are looking for.” He clarifies, hardly scandalized by her leering, “I experienced your orgasm as you did, even if my body could not fully react to it.”

She lowers from her knees and tucks her legs under herself. Just as she starts feeling self-conscious, the Herald drapes his robe around her shoulders and she lets out a tired little laugh, “Thank you.” she wraps the fabric around herself to keep warm, and the Herald sits crosslegged in front of her. She chews her lower lip, “It felt…good, for you, right?” “Very.” He replies nonchalantly. Sitting up completely straight with his usual poise and grace, “Thank you for permitting my experimentation.”

“No um, thank you for indulging me. I suppose.” She turns from him, looking down at where her fingers toy with the fabric of his robe, “Herald, um I-” her breath shakes, she wishes it didn’t, “I saw something, when I…” “The arcane, a byproduct of our connection, I believe.” “You were there.” She says weakly. “I always am.” The Herald confirms, “I exist both here and within the arcane in all instances, it is not so much a severance as it is a confluence. My perception is doubled, not halved.”

It’s strange to have an answer. To know that Viktor’s golden eyes are always watching her from behind the Herald’s opalescent ones. She isn't certain whether that knowledge makes her feel better or worse about the everpresent ache in her chest. It’s late now, though and her body slumps with post-orgasm lethargy, she needs rest.

“I will accompany you home.” The Herald says, the moment she decides to leave.

“Thank you.” She replies, rising up on her knees, “But before I go I-” she reaches her hand out, resting her palm against his brow, “I want you to feel this.” she whispers, and then presses her lips to his, clutching to him tightly, hoping that somewhere trapped in the endless expanse of the arcane, Viktor is watching.

The Herald wraps his arms around her shoulders, and when his breath catches, it sounds suspiciously like a sob.

#viktor/reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #bree writes occasionally

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secret-moonstruck · 1 day ago

Text

IN MY DREAMS | P. SH

— Pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N didn't know what fantasy or reality was, always dreaming about this mysterious man. Subtle touches and a wonderful evening bringing the truth.

— Genre: light smut, fantasy

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, hickeys.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

The days have been tiring for Y/N, she has always had trouble sleeping, however, since she saw this man at the entrance of her building a few days ago, it has gotten worse. The same thing always happens, she is having a normal dream, but suddenly everything changes in a strange way where he is there. Perfectly beautiful, so real, but at the same time so ethereal. However, whenever the dream is good, she ends up waking up, her damn sleeping problem interfering. When she wakes up, she can't go back to sleep thinking about him.

She was leaving her apartment when she saw him again, he was entering the apartment next to hers. No, he couldn't be her neighbor.

When he passed, she looked at the ground, avoiding him, embarrassed by the dreams and thoughts she had about him. It's not like he knew what was going through her mind, but she still felt ashamed.

At work, she received an order, she didn't remember ordering anything, but she often received gifts from customers thanking her for her work. They were beautiful handmade chocolates. There was a note too.

“Eating a sweet before bed helps you have a light and sweet sleep.” - P.SH

- I hope it really helps. - She said to herself, thinking about the sleepless nights.

Y/N was already getting ready for bed when she remembered the chocolates. She went to her bag and took out the box, then ate one, it was really very delicious. She hoped it would actually help.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

It all started as usual, a normal, boring dream, actually a little irritating. She was in her office, feeling stupid and not being able to complete a project. It was irritating that she didn't even get a break from work even when sleeping.

- You must be very stressed to be dreaming about work.

Y/N looked for where the voice was coming from... there he was, the mysterious man, well now not so mysterious, now she knew he was her neighbor.

As soon as she noticed his presence, the atmosphere changed, they were no longer in his office. They were in a garden covered in snow, it was beautiful, and despite the snow, it wasn't cold. There was a lake with a big tree in the middle. It was a calm and peaceful place. She felt light.

- Thanks. - She thanked him. - Whenever you appear, everything becomes beautiful, it's so good.

- Actually, Y/N, haven't you noticed yet? It is not a consequence of my presence. I'm the one who takes you where I think you can feel good.

Y/N was confused, did he do that? But how? Shouldn't she be the one who controls her own dream? Why would a creation of her mind have control?

Sunghoon noticed how confused she was, so he snapped his fingers as he tried to show her.

The environment changed again, they were now in a beautiful ancient room, it looked like a palace. His clothes also changed.

She wore a white dress, her hair falling in waves, tied to the side with white feathers, red lips.

Sunghoon impeccable as always, his outfit so simple but perfect for him, his layered white blouse and simple black pants.

He took her hand, leading her to the window, the sun was setting. As she watched the sunset, he didn't take his eyes off her.

- I'm sorry, Y/N. - He said turning her towards him. - I sent the chocolates. I come into your dreams every night, but you always leave me. I needed to make sure you wouldn't leave me today.

- I don't understand. - What did he mean by that? - How did you send me the chocolates? This was in real life, not in a dream.

- Yes. I, your neighbor, sent it. That way, you would sleep through the night, and not leave me like every other night. It's frustrating, every time I think I'll finally have you, you disappear.

Sunghoon touched Y/N's face, a gentle touch, but it sent shivers through her body.

So many times she melted at his touches, but they never managed to go any further, that's what he was talking about.

So many nights when she woke up with the feeling of his hands that left her weak under his touches, his lips that spread trails of kisses all over her body. So many nights when she woke up frustrated and angry, her desire for him getting greater every day, but never being able to have him for herself.

He was also tired, so many times he came so close to taking her and she always left him alone.

- Thanks. - Y/N said, looking into his eyes. - I also couldn't bear to always wake up and realize that you weren't there, that it was an incomplete dream. Even if it really is a dream. I will believe that this is all real. So, dream or reality, thank you for bringing me here.

Y/N stood up on her tiptoes, even with her heels she had to pull him by his shirt to be able to kiss him.

They had already kissed in other dreams, but this time it felt more real, she felt perfectly the heat of his lips, she felt the touch of his hand on her waist, the other on her neck. The kiss was calm but intense, she felt the desire he had for her throughout her body.

When they separated, and she opened her eyes, she realized that they were no longer in the same place.

They were now in a huge white room, it seemed so old, so surreal, everything was beautiful.

He took her to the big soft bed, guided her to the center of the bed, making her sit on her knees. She felt increasingly anxious as he tied her hands with a long red satin ribbon. Soon after, with another tape, but this time white, he blindfolded her eyes.

She shivered as she felt his fingers run across her face, down her neck as he admired her.

- You're perfect. I looked for you so much, I waited so long for this moment. - He whispered to Y/N, who didn't understand what he meant, but that didn't matter to her.

He lifted her a little, then kissed her, the kiss was more urgent than the previous one, his hands running down her side, up her exposed legs, while he trailed the kiss down her neck.

- Please, Sunghoon. - Y/N asked amidst sighs. - I need you.

Obediently, he continued, his fingers undoing the ribbons on Y/N's dress, sliding it off her body.

The fact that she was blindfolded and trapped seemed to make Y/N feel everything more intense, every little touch from Sunghoon made her shiver. And he noticed the effect it had, it made him yearn for her even more.

Y/N felt him move away, it didn't take long for him to be with her again. Kissing her again, he made her lie down, she felt the heat of his body against hers.

He took her tied hands and lifted her above his head, then distributing hot kisses all over her body, until he reached her wetness, interspersing between her lips and his long fingers, he prepared her.

Pulling her onto his lap, Y/N wrapped her trapped hands around his neck to hold on.

Moans leaving both of their lips, pleasure coursing through their bodies as they moved.

So many days that were interrupted, finally having the pleasure they had waited so long for.

Their sweaty bodies were pressed together as they sought more and more of each other.

Breathing heavily as the pleasure finally exploded, as they climaxed.

Sunghoon tugged on Y/N's hands, releasing her and removing her blindfold, a smile on his face as they kissed.

Y/N woke up suddenly. A horrible pain in your head, a whirlwind of memories invading at the same time.

She wasn't her. It was another life. Sunghoon was exactly like now, he was a vampire, that's why he could enter your dreams, it was his power. People accused him of having attacked the villagers and were hunting him. Y/N, even though she was just a human, stood in front of him when arrows were shot, dyeing her. Sunghoon cried as she died in his arms.

Dizzy with so much information, Y/N ran out of her room, when she opened the door to her apartment, she found Sunghoon panting. They looked at each other for a moment before he picked her up and kissed her.

- I remember everything. - She said, tears running down her face.

- I couldn't protect you, I hated myself when I let you go. I looked for you every day of my existence. But I finally found you. And I will never lose you again.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #smut #fantasy #dreaming #dreams

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starrysan · 2 days ago

Text

nouvelle vague

↳ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅ? [12]

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

third person pov

y/n was working at their desk when they were called into their bosses office. “you asked for me?” when say walking into the office and sitting down. “yes i did” the boss hums typing on her computer. she gestures for them to have a seat though they were already seated.

"you've been here a few months now, yes?" she asks. "yes I have" y/n replies. "im sorry.. did I do something wrong? I thought I reported everything in a timely mann-" y/n starts. "nothing like that" their boss assures them.

"you've been doing great. really incredibly" their boss continues. "its not confirmed but we may move you back to the Australia branch" she drops finally to which y/n freezes on the spot. "i.. im sorry what?" y/n makes sure they heard her correctly. "the employment isn't going as well there since to be honest we moved a lot of people abroad this quarter" their boss continues.

"I was told i'd be here for minimum a year its barely been 8 months" y/n says in disbelief. "I know.. im sorry" the boss replies though it honestly didn't seem that convincing. y/n leaves the office in defeat. it of course wasn't confirmed but the fact that it could happen made them freak out.

they tried texting yunho who wasn't responding again but he's busy they shouldn't bother him its fine. they texted chris for a bit, texted san as well. started getting worried about yunho since he wasn't responding and started freaking out about their job again. they panic FaceTimed chris who picked up immediately.

"everything ok?" chris asked through the phone to which he got a quick "no" from y/n. they re-explain everything their boss had told them "I miss you so much but I also love Korea so much now and I know nothings confirmed but im still scared" y/n rambles. "everythings going to all work out y/n don't worry" chris reassures them.

"I know.. im sorry I shouldn't be freaking out right now" y/n sighs. "don't apologize" chris hums. "I cant confirm what will happen of course but youre strong y/n it'll all work out and be okay" chris finishes. "thanks chris" y/n says.

the two hang up the call and y/n goes back to trying to test yunho with no success. he was at work for another couple hours but they thought he'd at least be able to look at his texts. maybe he was sick of them already.

they tried not to think that way but it only made the thoughts they had in the back of their head stronger. he didn't really like them did he? who were they kidding.. he was too busy for someone as high maintenance as they were. they should have known he'd get tired of them.

maybe he was ignoring them to send them a message without actually telling them. that had to be it? did they do something wrong? did they screw up that bad that he didn't even want to talk to them. all these thoughts rushed into their head till they got an abrupt phone call from mingi that broke them from their thoughts.

"hi mingi" they say picking up the call. "y/nnnnn" mingi says excitedly. "what's up? hope im not bothering you I know you have work right now" he giggles over the phone. to not let him know the anguish they were going through they pretended everything was completely fine. "hi mingi" they chuckle. "yeah im good what's up?"

"just wanted to call you its been a hot minute want to hang out later?" he asks, y/n hears yeosang's distant voice telling him not to bother them at work. "tell yeosang I say hello" y/n hums. "sang y/n says heyy" mingi practically yells. "hi y/n" yeosang chimes in.

y/n got off the phone in a bit of a better mood. mingi always had that charm of helping them feel better. they decide not to think about the potential doom of leaving Korea and head home for the night. they send one last text to yunho wishing him goodnight before crashing and falling asleep.

a notification chimes just as they're falling asleep, from yunho..

extras!

y/n overthinks a lot

mingi #1 y/n cheer upper!

ty for reading!

pls fill out the taglist form if you'd like to be added <3

taglist: @mimikittysblog @matchahintonagar @crownj1min @katsukis1wife @staytinyluv @ffenjoyerdazme @soupbinlily @ateezswonderland @yvnhoos @yunniverse @linearities @kattarrynnka @dalsuwaha @coffeewwithdrawlheadaches @spenceatiny18 @wonderz-real @akunoeyebrows @imogenlovess @mystic-megumi @xh01bri @sparda1234

#starrysan #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smau #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho smau #jeong yunho #yunho fic #ateez yunho

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asairayn · 21 hours ago

Note

OKAY HERE'S THE ANALYSIS OF ORIGINAL ECLIPSE

I LOVE THIS. such good interpretations of every version of eclipse.

I do want to talk about the original Eclipse, though, because I have a lot of thoughts on him and his motivation and his issues- I might be a little bit biased towards him (I wrote over 20k words about him over about eight months and wasn't even CLOSE to done).

So! Trying to analyze Eclipse at the very start is kind of difficult because... so much has been retconned, or forgotten about, or turned out to be just Not True- remember when Eclipse said he caused July 16th? Hard to tell whether that was him lying or something that got retconned as soon as they realized they needed a second villain.

But! from the best I can gather, largely from much later episodes that talk about the beginning, the original Eclipse was actually very heavily motivated by feeling betrayed. He actually said it himself

The original Eclipse was Moon. He started out as Moon, he had all the same memories... and then he was abandoned. Fully. Before he even existed. And then he was left in Sun's head for... an indeterminably long time (has the timeline been cleared up yet? how goddamn long before the show starts did july 16th happen?? because he was conscious in Sun's head for long enough before that to create Bloodmoon.), where he was able to hear and maybe see what was going on around Sun... but not do anything. Solitary confinement will get to anyone!

(He actually talked about that as a betrayal and how much it Sucked to be stuck in Sun's head in this clip (well. the reincarnation did. but good fucking luck finding the original eclipse talking about feelings.))

So he was Moon, and then he came to consciousness stuck in Sun's head with Moon's memories still thinking he was Moon, and then was stuck there for... a long time. He created Bloodmoon fairly early... and then was immediately abandoned again. Somehow, in however long he spent in the void in Sun's head (I have a lot of thoughts on that void, but they're not technically canon), he managed to craft himself a new identity. Because he was Moon!

And then he watched Sun and Moon get to exist and have a life while he was stuck for a long time in what was essentially solitary confinement. He hated them- he hated them a lot. It's mentioned many times, especially in the first few episodes with teaps Sun and Moon (i'm at that point in trying to catch up, so. i don't know whatever's happened beyond that), that Eclipse fucking hated being stuck in Sun's head- he hated loss of control, he hated having to watch.

And it shows in what he was trying to do! He hated Moon for abandoning him, and he hated Sun for not letting him have control... so he tortured Moon and completely revoked all control from Sun. Technically his goal in that era is to get the star, to... erase the world and make it better, or something, but. To me, that doesn't show at all- he doesn't act like that's his goal, he mostly acts like that's a fun pastime while he tries to lock Sun and Moon away permanently.

That all doesn't work, evidently. Lunar betrays him, which everybody but him expected, and lets Moon help Sun figure out what the hell to do, and eventually Eclipse gets killed/expelled from Sun's head. Goodbye to the original Eclipse, sucks to suck loser, shouldn't have abused your brother.

But the original Eclipse, at his core, hated Moon for abandoning him but hated Sun for locking him away.

He was mostly motivated by hatred- he'd had a long time to stew in it. He had a lot of abandonment issues and a lot of spite.

Quite literally, at that time, the only way that he could have any kind of control was by shoving Sun into his own head... which made both Sun and Moon hate him more. There wasn't actually any way he could take control without pissing them off- excluding maybe communication, but it's Eclipse. and he'd have to be communicating with Moon (notoriously bad at communication). He also had zero communication skills- he was Moon and then spent a long time unable to talk to anyone.

BUT THE JULY 16TH THING THAT I MENTIONED EARLIER IS IMPORTANT. I forgot I was going to talk about that.

So! The biggest thing that made Sun and Moon hate Eclipse from the beginning was that he claimed he was the one who took over Sun's body and killed a bunch of children on July 16th. Well, technically, he may have just said that he caused it and let Sun and Moon come to their own conclusions about how- but in the beginning, he was definitely saying that he was the one who killed people on July 16th.

And... that was a lie. Or retconned. Hard to say. You could technically say that he did still cause July 16th by creating Bloodmoon, but that's still a different thing. He didn't take control and murder children with his own hands- he created a person who got bored and took control to murder children.

But that means that Sun and Moon originally hated him for something he didn't do. They had other reasons to dislike him, sure, and he certainly gave them more reasons, but. The original thing wasn't actually him.

That has very little actual bearing on anything. They don't bring that up- it's not a Thing. but. it means something to me, I suppose. When Eclipse first showed up, the only Bad Thing™ that he'd done directly was take control by force. He portrayed himself from the beginning as the Big Bad, but he hadn't really done anything yet. I'm sure at least part of that was because- at least from what I can tell- they didn't actually have any plans for Bloodmoon yet so at that point he was the July 16th killer, but retcons just mean more fun for me.

Eclipse intentionally showed himself as the Bad Guy. He hated Moon for abandoning him, hated Sun because he was stuck in his head, and everything he did for the first few months was just... based in the kill code. He basically just did violence, until he started fucking with Sun and Moon, at which point he was filled with so much spite he couldn't be convinced to do anything else- and they didn't try.

Eclipse threatened Sun- the only person who Moon cared about ("Hi, I'm Moondrop, I don't care about anybody aside from my brother."). No matter what, Moon was going to hate him from that point on. Eclipse started by doing the one thing that Moon would not tolerate.

And then Eclipse created Lunar, for... somewhat vague reasons. And was awful to him, somewhat unsurprisingly. And, because he was horrible to Lunar, he would NEVER be forgiven (Until he came back from the third time, and was enough of a new person for Earth- who also Wasn't There- to not care).

I'm... very clearly biased towards the original Eclipse. I hate him so much and I've written so much about him and everything I wrote keeps being proven correct EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY TALK ABOUT THE ORIGINAL ECLIPSE.

Um. I'll be honest I don't actually know where the fuck I was going with this and I maybe just wanted an excuse to scream about Eclipse. And accidentally wrote over a thousand words of it.

Is there a certain way you go about the characterizations of the different incarnations of Eclipse?

Their motivations!

So at his core, Eclipse is an angry, paranoid, spiteful, arrogant, lonely, possessive, socially-inept person who can't communicate to save his own life. No matter where in his life you're writing him from, these traits persist.

The differences come in what his goal is, and which of his core traits are being amplified because of it.

I've written the Original Eclipse the least, mostly because I actually got interested in the show following his death 8'D. This Eclipse is the most closed off of all of them, the least likely to change his mind, the angriest and most vindictive. He hasn't been betrayed yet, he hasn't really failed yet, so his arrogance is at an all time high.

On the flip side, after his defeat and expulsion from Sun's head, this is also the rawest point in Eclipse's life. There's a lot of good fics about scraping his broken ass out of the woods and patching him up, and for good reason. Strip his arrogance away with his loss, and he has nothing.

My favorite is the Backup Eclipse. Eclipse 2.0, my beloved! Still arrogant, still angry, but spite is his strongest trait. He was defeated and he knows it, and he's learned that he needs to be a bit smarter in manipulating those around him. By escalating the game to the next level when he amplified Moon's kill code (giving us the guy, Kill Code), Eclipse started a chain reaction that is STILL going on in current canon.

The Backup is my favorite because his characterization runs from one end of the spectrum to the other. He comes back as a bedraggled version of himself, forced to deal with basically being Bloodmoon's prisoner while also getting them to work for him. He manages to enact one victory after another, culminating in him actually gaining the star. He did it, he won!

And then he fucking crashes.

Possession and loneliness are his strongest traits in the second half of his arc, and he picks up depression as well. Spite has become bitterness. Eclipse was never supposed to win, and he knows it. The star was only ever a means to an end, a way to get Moon's attention. And when Moon resets himself... Eclipse doesn't know what to do. He attempts to respark that rivalry, but New Moon isn't interested.

With no goal to latch on to, Eclipse crumples under his own misery and lack of purpose. On his way to winning, he destroyed everything that made his life interesting.

And then he got space lasered.

And then finally Eclipse 3.0, the Recreated Eclipse. I don't make a distinction between who he was before Lunar blew up his body and after, though I know some folks do.

Eclipse 3.0 starts off with anger, of course, and a lot of confusion and desperation. For a good amount of time in there he was p much feral. This one is mired in self-pity, and lashes out because of it.

Because that's what makes this one really interesting. He's picking up from where the Backup left off-- he has no purpose. I think he sunk his claws into the goal of 'find my creator' just to HAVE a goal. He's also interacting regularly with other people for the first time in his life(s), even if he does spend a lot of time taunting Moon for stuff that neither of them were personally there for.

Two things, I think, really helped Eclipse start stabilizing. The first was, uh. Solar's death 8'D More specifically, it was Puppet giving him an impossible task to focus on, and Eclipse always needs a goal. The second was Earth started socializing him. Which I love-- hell, I wrote that myself back in Sunk Cost. Earth always had the advantage of not being personally victimized by Eclipse like her siblings were, which let her be more tolerant of him.

Eclipse in his current state is still arrogant and possessive, and his people skills still suck. He's 'better' as a kind of side effect to Puppet's request; bringing Solar back, doing this Super Important Thing That Even Moon Failed At? Was a major ego boost. Eclipse learned a very important lesson:

Doing good things gets you attention and praise.

Which is why I think he had such a rocky start with the new dimension Sun and Moon 8'D He was chasing the high of being the hero, at the cost of actually paying attention to what was going on. He knew how things were supposed to go, that made him The Smartest. He's a good guy for extremely selfish reasons XD

But he's also finally made it to where a lot of fanfic authors have gotten him. A little less lonely, a few wounds healed. He does have people he cares about, without any intent for manipulation involved.

So yeah. I guess in summary:

Original Eclipse (Upright): Vindictive, angry. Would bite your hand off rather than take it Original Eclipse (Reversed): Lost, bewildered. A feral animal, but one that can be tamed.

Backup Eclipse (Upright): Spiteful, serious. Lost the game once already, has no intention of losing again. Backup Eclipse (Reversed): Bitter, desolate. An Eclipse without a purpose, can be coaxed onto new paths. Still will probably bite you a few times first. Recreated Eclipse (Upright): Arrogant, possessive. The end goal of many a fanfic, actually able to get along as a functional member of society... mostly. Recreated Eclipse (Reversed): Feral, desperate. Clinging onto what fragments he has in a life he didn't ask for, and hating every second of it.

Idk if that was useful but there you go!!!

#I'm solidly of the opinion that if Eclipse had been doing literally anything other than threatening Sun #he and Moon would have been best friends from their first meeting #i was writing a fic that essentially starts with that premise. and then becomes a lot more. that's the 20k words i wrote about eclipse.#i finished maybe a quarter of what i had planned. at absolute maximum.#and then the hyperfixation died and i'll probably never finish it.#i am so mad about that #i put SO MUCH WORK INTO IT #I HAVE AN OUTLINE FOR LIKE 30 CHAPTERS.#written like a week ago and i didn't reread it now and it might be incredibly incoherent i'm not entirely certain

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quillaffinity · 3 days ago

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Know that Home is Your Name (art by @puowei my beloved)

Grim munched on the warm samosa gripped between his paws, his sharp teeth making easy work of the delicate layers of filo dough that covered the savory meat filling inside. Founding Day at Ramshackle was in full swing before him, with all his classmates and upperclassmen appeared to be enjoying themselves quite a bit. Even the teachers seemed pleased, surveying all the new growth and hard-won repairs made to the previously dilapidated grounds. Maybe Bramble waking him up so early to finish decorating hadn't been such a bad idea...

"Now why would the Great Mage Grim be sitting all by his lonesome?" His ears perked at the sound of Bramble's gentle teasing. His hench-human (fairy?) looked a bit tired from cooking and playing hostess all day, yet she still smiled down at him, brighter than the spring sun. The familiar quickly turned away from her with a huff, his stomach twisting uncharacteristically.

Then came a rusle of fabric and grass as Bramble slowly sat herself down next to him. The deep red color of her blouse and skirt bringing out the warmth of her skin and the luster of the long alizarin curls flowing down her back. She was wearing one of those complicated, pleated outfits from her world. Her world, Grim thought, the place where she left her younger brother behind.

The person she loved the most.

He heard about the guy. How could he not? Every chance she got, his hench-fairy would talk about how great a guy her brother was. How much she missed him, how she couldn't wait to see him again.

Ugh.

"What'er you doing here Bramble? Shouldn't you be out there making sure all those dolts don't start a fight?" Grim quickly finished off the pastry in his arms, unable to even taste it. But then she laughed and Grim had to look back at her. He'd rather give up tuna forever than ever admit how much he liked the sound.

The golden embroidery on her clothes glinted warmly in the dim light around them. With Grim in a newly tailored Ceremonial Robe and Bramble glittering with loaned jewels, they made a rather odd but dashing picture as they sat side-by-side. She, a human turned half-fairy. He, a monster turned student of magic. And to think that when they both arrived at their dorm they had been at such odds...

"I have faith in them to keep it together for a little while, at least."

"Myeh, that's stupid."

She smiled at that. One of those eye-crinkling small ones, the ones that made him feel like they were sharing a secret. Like this, it would be easy to believe they'd always be here, be together. But the more Grim looked at Bramble', the more he felt that Bramble was moving further and further away from him. And closer and closer back to her home.

And he hated it.

He didn't want her to go home. Screw her stupid brother! A man ought to take care of himself! He didn't need Bramble, he had her for all his life. But Grim? She had just come into his, she couldn't leave so soon.

"Grim...Why are you sitting so far from me?" Her voice was soft in the way she reserved only for him. The same tone she used when they were curled up together for warmth in Ramshackle as she sang him little lullabies in languages he didn't know. She rested a soft hand on her knee as she tilted her head ever so slightly to meet his eyes. Her blue scarf flowing between them, a teal connection from her to him.

Grim looked away once again.

It felt like something was stuck in his throat, but no amount of swallowing made any food dislodge itself. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs, but no words came out. Stay. Stay here with me. With all of us. I don't take care of you very well right now, but I swear I'll do better than your home ever did. You won't even miss that selfish brother of yours!

Bramble reached out, curling her thin, work-worn hands around to rub and scratch at his face the way he liked. Subtly turning the monster's furred face back in her direction as he smiled unwittingly. Her fingers always gentle, her nails just long and sharp enough to scratch pleasantly.

It was Bramble who cooked their food and cleaned their dorm. It was Bramble to woke him up in the morning and made him brush his teeth. It was Bramble who made sure they had money for necessities and that Grim finished his homework on time.

But maybe he could learn?

Maybe he could figure out how to do more things, enough things that the idea of staying with Grim wasn't such a bad one. That way she wouldn't go back to that stupid world with that stupider brother of her's.

"There's that smile I love!" There was a golden glint of mischief in Bramble's eyes that gave Grim half a mind to turn away and pout once more. If only to keep the fairy's attention on him. He, half-heartedly, batted her hand away with greasy paws. But Bramble simply wrinkled her nose and leaned over to press a kiss between his ears, smelling like home the only way Grim knew.

No one and no thing had ever cared for him like her. Bramble had made sure he was fed, clean, and ready each and every day to accomplish his dreams. Having believed in him since day one. Heck, if he asked, Grim was sure she'd let him sink his fangs into her arm if she thought it'd help him. But what had he given her?

Not enough.

Not enough to keep her from going home, anyway.

"Now that you've finished pouting...I have some good news to share." The monster's stomach sunk and roiled. Suddenly he wanted to spit fire, he wanted to turn and set Ramshackle ablaze. Because, if he destroyed it, he wouldn't have a home and if he didn't have a home Bramble couldn't leave. She wouldn't. She'd stay and she'd take care of him and treat him so kindly he'd burn down another dorm just to keep her in Twisted Wonderland. He flattened his ears, fire bubbling behind his throat.

"...what?"

"Crowley's finally approved of my request to add my mother's last name to my file. I'm officially Bramble Euricide, Housewarden of the Ramshackle Dorm!"

Grim blinked.

Huh? That's it? She...She wasn't going home? She wasn't leaving him? She...She was staying. She was staying! Here! With him!

"And..."

Grim froze.

"I asked him to add 'Euricide' as your last name as well...but only if you want to! I-If that's to much I can't just let him know, he probably hasn't even glanced at our files since the first day so-" Bramble leaned a bit away from him, flustered. She looked away hurriedly, lashes low and shy over her pale pink-gold eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do I need a last name? Ain't that for your family?" Bramble went very still. Even the vines swirling and sprouting behind her slight pointed ears froze as if caught in a sudden frost. Slowly, her eyes widened as she turned back to look at him. She was silent for one, two, three heartbeats. Then her brows furrowed and her eyes softened in shock.

In heartbreak.

"Grim. Grim, you are my family."

Bramble reached for him, opening her arms just enough to welcome him. But she didn't pull him to her. She hesitated, hands just outstretched in front of him. Wow, Grim thought.

She's so stupid.

He leaped into her soft arms, and, immediately, was surrounded by her warmth. In fact, Bramble was so warm that it even made the back of Grim's eyes burn ever so slightly. Darn things even started to sweat. He knew his claws must have hurt her skin as he clung to her, but she held him too tightly to care. Grim made a small noise in his throat, rubbing his cheek against hers as her vines began to sprout soft lilac-colored flowers. Bramble stifled a soft sob against his fur, hugging the little creature close with every ounce of love she had.

"We've been through too much not to be, b-but if you don't want to be-"

"I n-never said that you dummy!"

A family. A friend. A companion at the start and end of the world. How blessed he was, Grim thought, how happy his life finally was.

i commissioned @puowei to draw bramble (my twst oc) and she did such a beautiful, wonderful, kind job that couldn't help but add a hopefully-equally sweet snippet between my Ramshackle duo. puo has an immense talent and skill only rivaled by her unyielding kindness and i cannot recommend her services enough. thank you for all your hard work, and for bringing so much life and beauty to sweet, tragic little brambleberry <3

tagging - @le-monchou and @twstnettle

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #puo #puowei my beloved #commission #oc commission #bramble #grim twisted wonderland #not a web weave

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damnfandomproblems · 3 days ago

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Fandom Problem #7242:

I hate this new wave of people, both media creators and fans think that adult fanworks are bad/disrespectful and are saying that no adult fanworks are a reasonable boundary to set.

Sex, hornyness, etc are all natural things. It's natural and normal to think horny thoughts, and it is natural and normal to do horny things, including making horny fanworks. Saying that it's disrespectful and/or bad to make horny fanworks to express those horny feelings and thoughts is like saying it's bad to express your anger by making whump fanworks, your sadness by making angsty fanworks, or your happiness by making fluff for fuck says. Sex and thoughts/actions related to them aren't bad and icky and disrespectful unless one involves an unconsenting party.

And no, making horny fanworks for a piece of media in which the creator doesn't want horny fanworks made for doesn't involve an unconsenting party unless those fanworks are posted in public/child space, untagged, and/or send directly or somewhere [such as their Discord for example] where said creator or a child can run across.

Saying otherwise would be like saying someone who made knives and didn't want those knives being used for knifeplay was an unconsenting party if a couple did decide to use those knives for knifeplay even though they were not involved in the knifeplay.

Sure their knives [and in fandom's case, characters] were used in a horny way which they didn't like, but that doesn't mean that they were in any way involved in the horny, thus their consent is not required.

They can hate that their knives were used in such a way, but once those knives are out for public consumption they no longer have a right to dictate how people use them [thus a creator has no right to dictate how people use their characters once they're out for public consumption], and that does not make the people who do use those knives for knifeplay [or people who make horny fanworks] bad, and it does not mean that they are breaking any boundaries because people no longer have a right to decide how people use their work once it has been given/shared with the people.

Any telling people that feeling horny and expressing that hornyness with other people in their own spaces is bad/disrespectful and against someone's [or your] boundaries is both absolutely overreaching and extremely controlling. People can't help what turns them on and if you can't handle that your character are going to turn people on, don't share those characters.

Boundaries are guidelines you set and enforce for actions people do with/to YOU and YOU ALONE!

A boundary would be telling people not to yell around you but is not you telling them to not yell at others when you're not around or be upset with you.

A boundary would be to not share horny thoughts about your characters in spaces where you can see it or with you at all, not you telling people that can't be horny at all about your characters in their spaces that YOU CAN AVOID!

People not only can't help their horny thoughts and feelings, but they also have a right and shouldn't be shamed for having those feelings! Hornyness is natural and wonderful and at the end of the day one of the most normal things in the damn universe! People deserve to make horny spaces to help handle their horny thoughts and feelings and to find other people with those same thoughts and feelings in those spaces.

You as either a fan or a creator can hate that all you want, but people aren't bad or evil for being horny in places where you can ignore them, even if it they're being horny over knives or characters you made. You can't tell people that they're not allowed to feel or express feelings you are uncomfortable with, and you can't call them bad and evil for feeling and being horny, not without being a controlling prick.

People don't deserve to be hated or slapped [looking at you responder to a previous submission. Abuser mentally much? Thinking violence is a good reaction to take against people doing things you simply don't approve of is evil. Get therapy before you hurt someone/hurt more people] for expressing their horny thoughts and feelings.

You can block those horny people, mute their tags, and ban them from your Discord if you're a creator. That's all perfectly fine and acceptable to do because those are your spaces, but telling people that can't at all feel horny and find other people who feel that same in their own spaces is ridiculous. As long as horny fans be horny in their own adult spaces and don't put their horny fanworks where children, you, or others who don't want to see that can run across them, they are in no way being bad or evil or breaking a boundary.

You as a fan or creator have no right to dictate what people can feel and how they are allowed to express those feelings. It is not a boundary to tell people that can't feel and express their thoughts and feelings in their own spaces that you can ignore.

And you as a creator do not own or have any right to the fandom spaces created for your creations because fandom spaces are made by and for FANS, not you. You may have made the knives, but you have no right to tell people how to use them, and what they can and can't do with them. You have no right to tell a group of kinksters that they can't use your knives when you gave them out to everyone.

If you don't want your knives used for knifeplay, don't share your knives with the world.

If you don't want your characters used in adult fanworks, don't share your characters with the world.

#ask box submission #fandom problem 7242 #character problems #fan art problems #fanfiction problems

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a-rayneart · 1 day ago

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Just finished season 4 of MASH

I know this art blog is quickly becoming a MASH rampage (not intentional, I swear) but I really want to give my thoughts on the season 4 finale and this seems like the best place to do it.

An incomplete list of every moment that struck me in S4E24: The Interview:

Hawkeye's demeanour in this episode is entirely different than in 'Yankee Doodle doctor', particularly his behaviour toward the film crew. This is unsurprising, but still significant to me.

I loved hearing Radar talk about his earthworms. I love whenever the characters engage in genuine hobbies outside of their jobs in the army, but hearing Radar babble about his earthworms was especially lovely.

"War is just killing, that's all." - Klinger

Hawkeye is so honest this episode, and he does it all with this completely checked out look, eyes glazed over.

Hawkeye also sums up his whole entire character. He talks about putting on a 'coat' of morale just to make others stop believing in where they are because it's the only way he can feel present. He also get's asked how he stays sane, which is pretty significant foreshadowing, to which he answer with a list of frankly insane things to do. It reminds me of the S1 episode where he pretended to lose it in order to get time off, but also of all the little times in episodes where he did something that was a bit outlandish, a bit crazy, and somehow also made perfect sense, like when he (briefly) pretended to be a corpse in an attempt to get back to his father.

"There's so much more to care about," and "It just doesn't matter anymore," are two things Hawk says in basically one breath and boy is that relatable.

I've already seen this clip but Mulcahy talking about the steam and the bodies in the cold hurts every time.

Genuine, non-sexual focus and appreciation for the nurses and the jobs they do.

Referencing the episode where Radar get's drunk in Tokyo and him looking so abashed about it.

"If I knew all the answers, I'd run for God." -Klinger again

More on Klinger– Usually he takes advantage of any opportunity to display his insanity to higher ups. He doesn't do that here. He talks entirely sincerely about his joy for home and his hate for the war. You can really see every emotion on his face. He is so real.

Radar's compassion for the local Koreans. There's something special about it coming from him specifically that I can't quite pinpoint but I love it. Maybe because he comes from such a similar background but is now in a position where the people he answers to tell him that he's better than them. I think Radar must feel he has more in common with the local farmers than with his own colleagues.

I've never thought about it before, but it makes so much sense that Potter misses being around people his own age, and I could probably go on about that forever but I probably shouldn't.

Father Mulcahy looks so tired.

BJ smiles when he greets his wife and daughter, but when he looks down he looks devastated. How hard must it be to talk to his family through a TV screen. The acting in this episode it amazing.

I think it was BJ who talked about being torn between his love for the people he worked with and wanting to erase them from his memory, which reminded me of a line from the MASH fanfic I wrote before I even watched this episode; 'Nothing makes me happier than having people to miss, and that they’re far enough away that I can miss them.' (Check out my short fic, it's called After Life - Hawkeye's Poem)

The narrator ends by saying that they're doing what they do best but what they'd rather not do in a place they'd rather not be and I think that's just about the point of the show

All said, amazing episode, perfect acting, did what just about every episode of MASH does and gave me a deep sense of melancholy. I've seen a lot about this episode on here and I totally get why but I think we should also give some appreciation to the episode before it (Deluge) because I genuinely believe that that was just as good.

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ajvocals43 · 2 days ago

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Country Girl (Shake it for me)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3378

Warnings: Rushed writing (not edited), body image issues, cheesy cliches

Summary: Y/n is in love with Dean, but what happens when she decides to show him what he's missing out on?

A/N: I couldn't let Dean's birthday go by without writing a fic for him. This was done really quickly and hasn't been edited but I've had this idea for a while. I will also say, I didn't add it but if you play Whole Lotta Woman by Kelly Clarkson during the beginning of the bar scene, it hits. That, along with Country Girl by Luke Bryan are what this was based off of.

Hot. That was my only thought as I stepped out of the backseat of the dark chevy impala. I stared up at the western themed motel in the small town in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Dean was freaking out, as per usual when it came to the “Wild West”, and what better place to be for all that than Texas. It’d been a long time since I’d been to the lone star state; not since I was a teenager trading months between my parents. It hadn’t seemed as hot then. Right now, I felt like I was standing on the surface of the sun in my dress pants and blouse that I’d worn to interview families while Dean and Sam went to the Morgue. I really needed some shorts. Really, I needed the confidence to wear some shorts.

“Is anyone else sweating balls out here?” I asked the brothers who were grabbing their things out of the trunk to head into the room. My question fell on deaf ears as they both continued their conversation inside the air conditioning. They were probably both tired of my complaining since it hasn't stopped since we hit the dry heat earlier this afternoon. I sighed, grabbing my bag, shutting Baby’s trunk and heading into the room. Sometimes we split into 2 rooms but most times there were rooms that had 3 beds, or 2 beds and a cot that we would rotate through each town. This would have been my turn to have a cot but luckily, there were 3 beds lined up against the far wall. I sighed as the air conditioning kicked on and I felt the vent above me start to blow cold air into the room.

“Better, princess?” Dean called from where he stood at the thermostat on the wall opposite me. I nodded, feeling the cold air chill my skin from the hot summer sun outside, walking over to my bed on the left side of the room.

“Didn't you grow up in Texas, Y/n?” Sam asked from where he sat on his laptop. “Shouldn't you be used to the heat?”

“I alternated months. And I never came in August because no sane person comes to Texas in August, Dean!” I called over my shoulder, rifling through my clothes for something that wasn't coated in sweat.

I heard Dean chuckling behind me as he moved about the room. “Sorry, I don't choose where monsters kill people.”

“Please, you're just happy you get to wear a cowboy hat again.” I shot back.

“You're damn right I am!” Dean said with a smirk. “And don't forget the boots, either, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes as I went to get out my laptop, unable to stop the smile that crept onto my face. Sam was right, I'd spent a lot of time in Texas growing up and I'd loved it. Times had changed though and while there were pieces I'd always love and miss, it wasn't home anymore. But I did have to admit, seeing Dean’s excitement made me feel something that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was rare to see him like this and for a second, I just let myself enjoy that, not knowing the next time I would be able to see it.

Yeah ok, so I'm one of the dumb girls who fell for Dean Winchester. Sue me. I'm not going to go through the whole story of how the brothers saved my life and we became besties but then I started to grow feelings for the elder brother through the endless flirty banter. It's not necessary and I don't want to waste time on it. But it didn't change the facts. I was in love with him. And he didn't even notice me.

Could I be more of a cliche?

Apparently, yes.

We had a lot of work to do, so we got to putting the stories together and starting on the research for the night. And it took forever, especially considering how tired we all were from the drive into town. We decided to have dinner and call it an early night.

We’d spent a couple hours researching and coming up with a plan before Dean announced that he was bored out of his mind and going out. Sam looked at me, we both knew I was going with him.

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy going out with Dean, I relished and feared the alone time in equal measure. Because on one hand, having time alone with Dean usually meant I got to see parts of him that I don't think he lets others see very often. And that just made me all the more hopeless because it felt like what he told me in these moments connected us on an even deeper level and that I knew him better than any one night stand or past girlfriend ever could. Because I knew the now Dean. The one that had been through hell, purgatory and so much more. I could understand him because I knew he wasn't the same 26 year old hunter that those girls had thought they could fix. I was under no delusions of being able to fix Dean Winchester. He was a fully grown adult and I was not his mother. But I think what kept my unreasonable hope of ever being with him going was that I accepted him. Bad habits, snap decision making, self-sacrificing traits and all. Because he was Dean. And all those broken parts that left scars and tore apart past relationships made him the most caring, courageous and loving person I'd ever known.

On the other hand though, going out alone with Dean sometimes meant having to deal with broody moods, childish behavior and… picking up girls. Girls who looked nothing like me. I wasn't ashamed of my size…for the most part. I could appreciate my curves most days, but there were times where I struggled not looking like the bartenders or waitresses at the establishments we stopped at. The kinds of girls Dean picked up. He rarely ever went home with girls now, but it still happened. And it was not a fun time for me to sit in the backseat so he could drop me off at the hotel with Sam like I was a kid. Or even worse, when I refused to ride and had to walk or wait for an Uber to come pick me up. Because then, Dean wouldn't leave until someone safe showed up to come get me, and while I appreciated the thought, I did not appreciate the glares from the girls or the feeling like I was a child who couldn't take care of herself.

Regardless, because we were friends, I wanted to look out for him. I knew Sam got some anxiety when Dean would just up and leave sometimes because you never know what could be lurking in the shadows, especially in our line of work. Or at least that's what he told me. I had the stinking suspicion he just wanted me out of the room because he knew about my feelings for Dean and didn't want to monitor my moping while he was gone. Which was understandable.

Dean and I got into our respective sides of the car as usual. Sam normally rode up front in the passenger’s seat, but would sometimes sacrifice the leg room for me when I got car sick. This wasn’t new by any means and yet, my body’s reactions were as if this was the first time we’d been this close together. I was hyperaware of his smell, the sounds of the leather moving and adjusting underneath us, the feel of the engine under me. I rustled through his box of cassettes on the floor before landing on Bob Seger. Dean gave me a look as I switched out the Led Zeppelin that had been in earlier. I shrugged and turned up the volume as the opening notes of Rock ‘N’ Roll Never Forgets came through the speakers. Dean was still giving me a weird look so I ignored him and started singing, waiting to enjoy the feel of the rushing air cooling down the car as we pulled out onto the road.

Surprisingly, we didn't go to a bar though. Dean pulled Baby into a parking spot in front of a western shop that couldn't have been more than a mile away from the motel. What were we doing here? With the lack of movement on my part, Dean rounded the car and opened my door for me.

“Come on, Princess. Let's get some gear.” I just stared at him. Why were we here? “You comin?” He asked when I just stared at him in shock.

“Uh… y-yeah.” I stuttered. I truly didn't expect this from him. I scrambled to get out of the car and follow Dean who had turned with a smile and begun to walk into the store.

As I entered the store, I got over my shock and figured he probably wanted a hat. Or boots based on the extensive collection that lined 3 of the 4 walls in the store. I followed him for a little before I ventured off to find shorts. The sweating was starting to get uncomfortable and I couldn't last much longer in jeans and dark shirts. I wandered through the racks, attempting to find clothes in my size, of which there weren't as many as I would like. But I did find some. A few lighter material tops and shorts that seemed like they’d fit. But I got distracted (I know, terrible for a hunter) and missed Dean sneaking up behind me.

“What about these?” I turned to find Dean with a pair of what could barely be considered shorts. And sure they were cute with all their jewels and the belt that was looped through them, but they would no doubt look like underwear on me.

“You’re funny.” I said as I turned back to what I was looking at.

“I do.” he agreed, “But what's wrong with these?”

“Theyre short.” I scoffed.

“Isnt that the point of shorts?” he asked, seemingly confused. He wasn't wrong. And on good days, they were something I might wear.

“I see your point. I guess” I said hesitantly.

“Great! Then let's grab some boots…” he turned and eyed a scrap of fabric that was supposed to be a shirt “and this” he picked it up “and get out of here.” I laughed and followed obediently.

We picked up some boots because we needed to be “authentic” for some reason and left for the motel. When we got back to the room, Sam was still in the same place we’d left him. “I’d assumed you guys went to get food or something.” He said before turning his computer towards us. “But get this. I think I found what we’re looking for.”

The rest of the hunt went pretty smoothly. A simple salt and burn, and only Sam got mildly injured from being thrown into a wall. So we decided to celebrate. Well…Dean did. I figured this time I would stay back.

“Why didn't you go with?” Sam asked from his place at the table.

“Didn't feel like it.” I shrugged, not looking up from my book.

“Uh huh.” Sam said. He paused for a while before saying “Y’know, he's not going to know how you feel unless you show him.”

“Show? Not tell?”

“Well we all know both of you are terrible at expressing your feelings. So maybe showing would be easier.” At this, he shut his computer and turned to look at me.

I put my book down. “I love your confidence in me Sam, but you see as clearly as I do what his type is.” I said, trying not to let my sadness show.

“Maybe…” he drew out, “But I also know my brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It means, you should go to the bar.” Sam said, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was for other girls. The ones who didn't have the history we did.

“Im scared Sam.” I finally confessed.

“And?” he asked. “I don't remember you ever letting a man control your life.”

He was right. I was a total cliche but… to be honest, I loved making people realize they'd underestimated me. The bar wasn't far, close enough to walk even though Dean had taken the car. Sam’s words got me thinking. And while I was terrified of being rejected by him, I felt like I owed it to myself to have a good time, regardless of what or who Dean was doing.

So it was time to get off my ass and stop moping. I went over to my duffel bag in the corner of the room and found the shorts and top Dean had picked out earlier that week. What better way than to make a man regret than to throw his own choices back at him. I jumped into the shower and pulled on the clothes. It was a lot more skin than I usually showed but… it'd do the trick. The shorts did wonders for my ass and the top the same for my boobs. And while I wasn't fond of my thighs spilling out the bottom with the highest inseam of a short I'd ever had, it was a pretty sexy look. As a hunter, I never wore makeup so I did my hair and was about ready to leave, when at the last minute, I changed my regular thick boots for the cowboy boots we’d gotten earlier that week. It'd been a while since I'd rocked the denim and boots look, I kind of missed it if I was honest.

And with that, I bade Sam goodbye and walked out the door. When I walked in, it was actually pretty crowded. It must've been a dancing night because when I looked to my right, there were at least 30 people on the floor line dancing. Maybe I'd head over there. But then I spotted Dean at the bar and I made my way over to him, swaying my hips just a little so as to draw a bit of attention from those around me. Maybe they’d see what he was missing. I stopped in front of him and he seemed stunned. Probably surprised that I came out tonight when I'd been adamant about staying in the motel earlier. But then, of course, the bartender returned and started flirting with Dean.

Refusing to let that break my mood, I turned and smiled at someone on the other end of the bar. He smiled back and waved. Just then, the music changed, and I heard the beginning guitar of Luke Bryan’s Country Girl start blasting from the stage. It was one of the few newer line dances I’d kept up with. I'd gone dancing years ago with a friend of mine and she taught me it so I at least knew one modern dance. I jumped up and strutted over to the floor, my steps falling to the beat of the song.

And wow. In my constant fight against the supernatural, I sometimes forgot how much fun simple things like dancing could be. I lost myself in the moves, getting more into it until I was in the middle of the floor, smiling and laughing with those around me. Throughout the song, I let my worries fade away and let myself embody the spirit of the lyrics. Until it came to an end. I turned around to leave and found Dean had moved from the bar to one of the smaller standing tables that rounded the dancefloor. I made my way over to him.

“I almost forgot how much fun those are.” I panted, coming off the dance floor.

“Yeah, I bet.” Dean answered as he slid a glass of ice water to me across the small table top. “You were a natural out there though.”

I took a sip and let the cool water slide down my throat. “That? It's really just about getting the repetition.”

“Nah, I'll leave that to the professionals,” he held his bottle of beer up in a salute to me. “I'm just fine with my place watching.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, looking back to the dance floor. “Who were you watching? The blonde? The redhead?” I tried for nonchalance.

“You.” I heard him say behind me. It took a second for the word to register.

I turned around, confused. “What?”

“I'm always watching you. You know that.”

Right. I really needed to stop getting my hopes up about things that were not real. “Dean, I appreciate that, but I promise, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself-”

“It's not like that and you know it.”

“Dean, I-” I started.

“Baby, don't make me spell it out for you; you know I want you.” He deadpaned.

My jaw dropped. There was no way I had just heard that right. “Huh?”

He looked at me silently, waiting for me to wrap my brain around what he was saying, like it wasn't the last thing I had expected to hear come out of his mouth.

“You…want me?” I asked finally. “Like me, Y/n, me?”

Dean chuckled slightly. “So the teasing wasn't intentional.

“Teasing?” I asked, bewildered. “What teasing?”

“The dancing, the flirting, the tight clothes-”

“Tight clothes?” I blurted.

“Not like that.” he started. I hadn't realized the sexist connotation to those words as he’d said them. “Sweetheart, you have to have realized what you do to me when you wear those jeans, or leggins, or those deep v tops.”

“That's because they don't make a lot of clothes that fit bodies like mine.”

“Really?” his voice dropped. “Cause I'm pretty sure that every stitch of clothes you're wearing, right down to those boots were made specifically to fit every inch of your body perfectly.” He grabbed onto my belt buckle and pulled me, harshly against him. “And to drive me right out of my damn mind.”

Well fuck me.

Literally. Please.

My eyes dropped to his lips. Inches from mine now, I could feel his body heat radiating through our clothes. He leaned down, his right hand moved from my belt up my back and into my hair, grabbing a fist full of curls and pulling gently, drawing my eyes up to his. I licked my suddenly dry lips as I watched him smirk before leaning in slowly, giving me plenty of time to back out. Fat chance of that happening. I raised up on my toes and met him halfway, sealing our lips together in the single hottest kiss I'd ever had. I'd laughed at the amount of girls that gushed over his abilities but holy hell. They were right. I held onto him as we kissed every last breath out of our lungs, only pulling away when it started to hurt. I felt his smile against my own as we caught our breath.

This was crazy. Absolutely insane. And incredible. “Damn woman.” Dean said, his breaths matching mine. “You drive me crazy.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yeah.” I said dreamily. But my smile sobered as I remembered the bartender. “But what about-”

“What about what Y/n?” he asked.

“The bartender?” I asked. He looked at me blankly. “Shes cute.”

“And?” he asked. “Princess, have you seen yourself?” He made a show of looking me over. “You’d drive any man out of his mind. I'm just lucky you chose to do it to me.”

“Who said this was for you?”

His face turned damn near murderous for a moment. “Let them try it and see what happens.” With that, his hand slid down to wrap around my waist and pull me impossibly tighter to him. There would be no doubt to anyone that we were together. “You’re stuck with me now sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” I asked, playfully. “Not ‘princess’?” since that seemed to be his favorite name for me as of late.

“You like that, huh?” he asked gruffly. “Well…you're mine, princess.” And with that, he leaned down to kiss me again.

Masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff

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tomb-of-flora · 3 days ago

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One of my favorite character types is a character who is so obviously faced with death from the beginning of the story, but just cannot seem to die. Whether the position they've been thrust into seems destined to collapse, or their death just makes the most sense from a meta perspective, I ADORE when someone pulls off keeping a character past their expiration date. Sometimes that does just mean that the storyteller made a bad choice and kept a character too long and it can be a real drag on the narrative, but when it's done right? It's the best thing ever. I love watching those characters cope with this position and with feeling to their core like they shouldn't have made it this long. The icing on the cake, of course, is how often someone (or multiple someones) died in their place to keep them around this long and left them with guilt/regret that they’ll carry through every second of their unexpectedly long lives. When someone pulls this off I want nothing more than for that character to survive to the very end of the story and to see what they make of the life they seemed fated to lose.

This is mostly about Pyrrha Dve. I think about her all the time. I think about how many characters she has outlived, despite being the cav of a ten thousand year old lyctor. Her death was subverted when the world ended and John brought her back, and it was subverted again when she wasn't fully consumed by G1deon. As a result she watched basically everyone she's ever known die from the passenger seat of the Saint of Duty. G1deon, almost all the other lyctors, and Wake all died and she's still here inhabiting the body of her oldest friend.

I spent the entirety of Nona the Ninth thinking Pyrrha was going to die. Genuinely every time she ran off to work or otherwise vanished from the view of the rest of the cast it seemed like such a sure thing that this death would be what heightened the emotional stakes for Nona and taught her firsthand the tragedy of death. Instead, she was the only survivor of her adorable little household and is once again alone as the last remaining piece of something she will never get back.

It's also about Amethar of the House of Rocks. I love the way that A Crown of Candy has so many combat encounters and betrayals that seem built with the sole purpose of sacrificing Amethar. There are so many moments that would make for a heroic, tragic death that Amethar will simply never have. He outlived every single one of his sisters and now he has to rule. And when it seems like his time stuck being a miserable king is over because his daughters who have been trained their whole lives to take his place are here? Well, he's going to have to outlive one of them too. He outlives his family, he outlives the mentor of his daughters, and he outlives every enemy that was created to kill him. And all that time you can tell he kind of wishes that he had died in battle—that he'd taken the hit for one of his sisters who had then been able to rule and raise a family in his place. But he was never going to get what made sense to him and it is his duty to carry on.

It's just such a unique tragedy that the reader/viewer gets to share with the character because there's always a very strong meta element to this character type. The reader's expectation and the character's are so often the same as both are waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's a fun reflection on expectation and what it seems like is supposed to happen. And it's such a great recipe for lingering tragedy when done correctly.

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cheshireliam · 12 hours ago

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"Once Upon A Twisted Tale" Story Event: Premium END

Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Encouraged by Ellis’ reassuring words, we left the old castle and returned to the royal palace where I was born and raised.

The first thing we did was make our way to the briar that played the role of my friend during my childhood.

Kate: There it is… the briar.

The briar was still there, its appearance unchanged.

Jude had made multiple attempts to harm it, but there wasn't a single trace of harm on the briar.

Ellis: Use this, Kate.

Ellis handed me a small box as I stared at the briar. The box contained a matchstick.

Ellis: You can just burn it all in one go.

Kate: … Okay.

I took the matchbox and lit a match.

Kate: … I’m sorry. I used to talk to you about lots of things in the past.

Kate: And right now, I’m going to kill you because I want to live…

(But I want a future where I can live on with Ellis…)

As I brought the lit match closer to the briar, guilt weighed heavily on me for ending a life for my own convenience.

And suddenly, a memory from my childhood resurfaced — a memory of the time this same briar was about to be cut down.

[ Flashback ]

Kate: This is my friend! Don’t cut it away!

Kate: It even has a name, it’s — “Ellis”.

Kate: This briar is my friend who has a beautiful name, “Ellis”!

[ Flashback End ]

(Ellis…)

It could’ve been purely coincidental.

Even so, the fact that it shared the same name as the person I loved gnawed at my heart, and my hand stopped.

Ellis: … Kate?

Ellis looked at me worriedly as my hand froze in place.

(... What’s this unsettling feeling?)

(I feel like there’s something I haven't recalled yet but I should…)

(That's right. Before I pricked myself on this briar when I was younger, I was sure I—)

[ Flashback ]

Kate: Mother and Father are always busy with the country’s affairs. They don't play with me at all…

Kate: I think grown-ups who spend most of their day working have very boring lives.

Kate: And on top of that, they say I have to be in an “arranged marriage” when I grow up.

Kate: I don’t want that… I wish I could stay a kid forever and never grow up.

= Flashback End =

I was pricked right after complaining to the briar about how I didn't want to grow up.

(What if the briar gave me this illness out of kindness…?)

(If it was trying to end my life before I grew up, as an act of mercy…)

Ellis: … Kate, you’ll burn yourself if you hold that any longer.

Ellis reached out and extinguished the match I had been holding absentmindedly.

Kate: Sorry, I was in a daze…

Ellis: … Is something bothering you?

Ellis: I think you shouldn't hesitate to burn the briar if it’s your wish to cure your illness and continue living.

Kate: That’s true, but…

As I responded to him, past conversations I had with Ellis started flashing through my mind.

“I’ve been burned, frozen, stabbed, and slashed countless times by that fairy.”

Ellis endured the same attacks Jude inflicted on the briar.

You’re light as a feather, so it’s okay. Go on, you can sleep.

I couldn't hear a single heartbeat coming from Ellis’ chest.

“I brought your favourite freshly baked bread and raspberry jam.”

I never told him, and yet Ellis somehow knew my preferences.

(And much more… so much, there won’t be an end to it if I keep recalling them.)

Kate: Hey, Ellis.

Kate: Could it be that… you’re… the briar?

Ellis: That’s right.

Ellis didn't hesitate to agree.

Ellis: I’m the nameless briar growing in the royal palace’s backyard.

Ellis: No one paid attention to me, and I was fated to be cut down when I grew too large and became a nuisance.

Ellis: — Until the day I met you.

Ellis: It must’ve been over a decade ago. You spoke to me, named me “Ellis”, and called me your friend.

Ellis: It made me so happy… because you were my first human friend.

(... Now that I think of it, Ellis called us friends when I met him at the mercenary recruitment agency.)

Everyone started to connect like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Kate: … After that, you pricked me and gave me this disease that would kill me the moment I reached adulthood?

Ellis: Yeah. … Because you said you didn't want to become an adult.

Ellis: A few years later, Jude came to see me…

Ellis: He said he was going to kill me to save you.

Ellis: But because all I did was grant your wish, I decided to fight against Jude.

Ellis: I was burnt, frozen, and even chopped up… but I didn’t die.

Ellis: At some point, Jude cast a spell on a part of me and turned me into a human being.

Ellis: Seems like he thought he could finally kill me if I were human.

Kate: But, if you’re standing here right now, that means…

Ellis: … That’s right. In the end, Jude couldn't bring himself to kill me in my human form.

After telling me everything from start to finish, Ellis sighed.

(So that's why I fell ill… and why Ellis is living as a human being.)

Kate: … I’m so sorry, Ellis.

Kate: This happened because I wished to never grow up…

Ellis: Ah… sorry, maybe I didn't explain enough.

Ellis: While it’s true that I pricked you because you said you “didn't want to become an adult”...

Ellis: Killing you is my wish too.

As he spoke, Ellis gently touched a wildflower growing in the backyard.

Ellis: The wildflowers that grow here have different fates from the flowers sold in shops.

Ellis: Wildflowers bloom and wither away without ever being noticed by anyone…

Ellis: Meanwhile, the flowers sold in shops are picked when they’re the most beautiful and happiest, and cherished by someone.

Ellis: I envied those wildflowers that could have time frozen for them when they’re at their peak and never fade away…

It was a sentiment difficult for humans to fully understand, but as a former “briar”, those were undoubtedly Ellis’ truest feelings.

Ellis saw the fate of flowers being cut and cherished at their most beautiful moment as something positive.

(And so he tried to kill me while I was still a happy child?)

— Without a doubt, Ellis’ intent to kill stemmed from his kindness.

Ellis: … The reason why I couldn't be killed until now, no matter what method was used, was because I wasn't ready to die.

Ellis: But you can kill me now.

Ellis: If you, the person I love, wishes for my death…

Ellis: … I’m ready to die anytime for the sake of your happiness.

Kate: I…

I was attracted to Ellis’ kindness, thoughtfulness, and gentle smile that could sooth my heart.

It didn't matter to me whether he was human or not.

Even after knowing Ellis was the briar, my feelings for him didn't waver.

Kate: I could never burn you, Ellis.

Kate: Because I… I like you.

Ellis: I… too…

Ellis: … Sorry. I’m not sure if my “like” is the same as the “like” you speak of.

Kate: … That’s okay.

Kate: I like you, and so I won’t burn you. … That's what matters the most to me right now.

Afterwards, Ellis and I returned to the old castle. We resumed our lives together as three.

…

However, in the end, the cure to my illness couldn't be found—.

Jude: Ya sure ‘bout this?

Kate: Yes. I’ve already bid my farewell to my parents.

— As per Jude’s original plan, I would now fall into deep sleep for 100 years.

During that time, Jude and Ellis would continue searching for a cure.

Kate: Ah, I made sure to bring 100 years’ worth of payment for Jude from my parents!

Kate: Please accept gold and treasures.

Jude: … Thanks, I guess.

Jude: Oi, Ellis. It's ‘bout time. Say yer goodbyes.

Ellis: … Kate. I’ll be waiting for you 100 years from now.

Kate: I’ll be waiting to meet you again in 100 years too.

Once Jude saw that we were done saying our goodbyes, he pricked my finger with the spindle of a spinning wheel.

I started dozing off, and my consciousness eventually faded away as I fell into deep sleep—

Ellis: Until you wake up, I’ll…

It sounded like Ellis was making some sort of vow, but I fell asleep before I could hear the rest of it.

…

Kate: Nn…

Ellis: Ah… you’re awake. Good morning, Kate.

Kate: Ellis…? Where am I…

Ellis: It’s been exactly 100 years since you fell asleep. I’ll go get Jude.

Jude came into the room a short moment later and gave me a brief general check-up.

Jude: Yer illness’ completely gone.

Kate: Really…!? Thank you so much, Jude!

I thanked him over and over again, Jude grew tired of it and left the room.

I turned my full attention to Ellis.

(Huh…?)

Kate: When I dozed off, I dreamt of you countless times, but…

Kate: The Ellis in my dreams seemed a little different from the Ellis in reality.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but something about his aura had changed during those 100 years.

Ellis: … I bowed to study humans until you woke up.

Ellis: Over these past 100 years, I've met all sorts of people and I think I’m starting to understand the subtleties of human nature.

Ellis: … Do you hate my changed self?

Kate: Not at all! I’ll always… always like you.

Ellis: … I see. That’s a relief.

Hearing my words, Ellis beamed. It was a smile I had never seen 100 years ago.

Ellis: … Hey, Kate. I’ve learnt a lot over these 100 years.

Ellis: But there’s something I just couldn't understand no matter what. Can you teach me?

Kate: Of course! What do you want to learn?

Ellis: Human love.

Kate: L-love…?

Ellis: Love is something you can only learn from the person you’ve fallen in love with.

Ellis: I want you to teach me how to love like a human.

Ellis gently pulled me close and pressed his lips to mine.

Kate: Nn…

Ellis: … I’m in trouble. Your blush after being kissed is incredibly adorable.

Ellis: So adorable… it makes me want to kill you right here and now…

Ellis: But I bet even when you become an old lady, you’ll still be adorable. So, no matter what, I won’t ever be able to kill you.

Ellis: … I can finally say that I love you.

Ellis was dangerously captivating, possessing both the love of a briar and of a human.

I found myself being unable to look away from him even more than before.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikevil translations #otome #ikevil story event #ellis twilight

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lucabyte · 3 days ago

Note

Hey I know this is kinda stupid but ur little joke comics of siffrin having a bald spot being treated like any other sorta funny thing siffrin has going on is genuinely really affirming as a trans man who might lose his hair one day

ehh its not stupid at all. ill pull back the curtain and say that oh yeah these jokes are supposed to be lighthearted and affirming in that way so like. walk w me here

cuz thats the thing this joke works regardless of headcanon for siffrin/your own gender presentation bc like. transmasc, amab nb, transfem, intersex, hell even just pick-a-rando-off-the-street cis people worry abt going bald because it's just like. a distinct possibility. whether your testosterone is home grown or store bought its just one of the things that it can and may do.

obviously, there's ways to mitigate hair loss. transmascs especially have really good resource gathering for this, it seems? and it's very good to have the options to control your body and how you want to appear.

but that's the thing. weird uncontrollable shit happening to your body as you age is The Great Equalizer. And we'd probably all be better off if we didn't treat it so weirdly or like such a taboo. So making jokes about it the same way you would like, your back getting bad or joints getting creaky normalises it. Because it is normal, and there should be some humour in all shared experience !!!

making this joke abt Siffrin in particular is also not done without intentionality, also. like 1, as you said they already have so much shit going on that adding more is just funny to start with, 2. it makes logical sense with how stressed and deceptively old they are and 3. theyre like. a twink. they aren't particularly masculine (especially owing to the fact that, canonically, they don't consider themselves a man.) and people really do not see balding as anything other than hyper-masculine. so it can cause a lot of perception issues if you want to be seen as... literally anything else. ie. genderless, feminine, or just femme? So it stops people from depicting characters who aren't hyper masculine as balding at all/worse still makes people irl feel ashamed if they Are balding but don't want to be that level of masc. But it shouldn't be that way, because it's not like your genetic response to T (and stress..) cares what either society presently thinks Or what your personal sense of style is. And y'know. just in general. it's cruel to be judgemental about things beyond ones control.

... This is a lot of words for "thank god. im so glad drawing this twink balding is making people feel better because i hope everyone knows i'm not making this joke in meanspiritedness" now go forth and like. be fine with being bald someday. it happens to the best of us

#everyone be nice to each other about things beyond their reasonable control forever please especially appearence #but also making jokes about things is good to let the pressure off and make it okay to discuss them. it turns out you're hardly alone!#there's a number of ppl on the other posts where ive made this joke who say the same thing abt it making them feel better about starting #to go bald at an early age/not in a way that's super condusive to their gender. there's so many of you!!! un-taboo this taboo!!! its fine!!#lucabytetalks

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chaifootsteps · 2 days ago

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Something that irks me with stolitz is the toxicity. I don't mean it in a "This ship is IMMORAL!!!" I mean that it doesn't commit. My otp above anything I've ever shipped before is toxic. Character A takes immense joy destroying Character B's life in increasingly devastating ways thanks to a timeloop, he can change any time but no he loves being The Worst. For that I have a leg to stand on over this.

We all know the jist: coercion, classism, racism, transactional, ect. I think if they just kept going with that, the fact that Stolas and Blitz aren't good for each other but we're locked into them interacting; Putting characters in situations just to Do It. It could've been awesome. What is happening instead of that is the toxicity between them is getting "solved". They're both going to become better people so that, eventually, the relationship can work. Recovery!!! That's also awesome!!!!

But it's not breaking down the initial toxicity enough. Or presenting the two of them with enough chemistry for us, the viewers, to want them together. It feels more like we're being Dragged to. The show says "They WILL be together. Get rid of everything in the way!" And it's not satisfying. It wants to be the sweet wholesome ship without actually addressing anything. For THAT, it's fair to judge the toxicity as is. If they were just awful people to one another like my otp I wouldn't do that. I'd love the problems, the drama.

But I'm being told they're cute and in love and soulmates. They aren't, it's failing BADLY and that can be pointed at. Even if I try to focus on the fun toxicity of it, I'm being lied to there. Because the bad parts of them are being sanded right before my eyes so they can say "You are my light, you are my heart". Helluva Boss, PICK A DYNAMIC DAMNIT

Worse is the fans who flip flop alongside it. "Yeah they're toxic. They're in hell" they aren't toxic anymore, they're actually painfully in love so we shouldn't care about the [Large Gesture to The Problems]

"The show is about them getting better and moving through it. They aren't toxic." Just a second ago you said they were. But since they aren't for the next couple of seconds, we have to judge their toxicity earnestly because of how strongly it counters their "true love"... stolitz doesn't commit in either direction,,,, annoying

Ugh, the flip flopping is the worst. "Stolas did nothing wrong, he's a gentle guy with feelings who'd never, ever hurt anyone." "He physically abused his imp butler." "It's Hell, what do you expect?"

(Note that "It's Hell, what do you expect?" never, ever applies to Stella taking out a hit on her husband. Ever.)

#Anonymous #viv stuff #stolas critical #stolitz critical #actual blog post

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gotham-daydreams · 1 day ago

Text

The Dawn

Day 5 {Challenge Masterlist}

Has come, but of course, not every day is meant to go as planned.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader(?)]

[Warnings: Gore-esc descriptions (a lot of mentions of flesh, flesh moving, muscle, teeth, growth like that and being described being where they shouldn't be), eldritch horror sort of description, ooc characters (?), implied death, alien reader, monster reader, confusing and vague description, obsessive behavior (at least implied), hardly a sprinkle of possessiveness but it's there if you squint, an almost-end-of-the-world scenario. Suicide in the form of self-sacrifice, there is fighting but nothing in detail, harm is done to the reader, body horror.] (Note: If I missed any, I apologize but I think you get the gist. This one is a doozy. Might be a little confusing, and isn't my best work, but I tried my best and once again apologize for the delay. For all those reading this, I hope you enjoy and this has been an interesting short series to try and write with you.)

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Of a new day has come, and all the residents of the Earth could feel it. Before the sun showed itself, the skies seemed to lose their blue undertones for one half of the world, and the other could see the effects as people – imitators and humans alike – with patches of stars etched into their skin, offered themselves to the sun when it shined down on them, all just to join the vessel who had given promises it never intended to keep. With their essence going into the ground of the Earth, slipping into every crack and crevice, dropping into the near boiling waters as brown, near reddish undertones overtake the atmosphere.

You don’t wait until morning, not with everything in place and nearly everything prepared.

The detective that came with you from Metropolis was lost, but a few miniscule organisms being lost compared to the large amount of other lifeforms on this planet meant little. He served his purpose, just as the rest had – and of their own volition no less. All for the chance to get closer to whatever their heart and mind desired most, a promise you never made but they believed in anyway. It was a funny thing, how something like that worked, but it’s something you’ve come to expect and have worked with numerous times. It’s helped you before, especially with the last few planets, and a little planet such as Earth didn’t seem to change that. Not that such a silly little thought had ever crossed your mind.

Even if the effects seemed to differ, and your encounter with this world’s strange anomalies seemed to only prove that further – you can’t say it wasn’t… enlightening in a way you hadn’t considered before. Which was saying a lot since you’ve had this ‘effect’ on living things for a long time, and yet you still learn more about it as it helps you feed and grow all the more. Admittedly, you didn’t notice it much at first – but after that day, you haven’t forgotten about it. You couldn’t. Not when it held the potential to finally satiate your unending, painful, excruciating appetite.

The memory is a fond one, and you can’t help but recall it each and every time you’re able to feast once again. After all, it’s done you so much good – and without it, you never would’ve been able to even fathom being where you are now. Let alone imagine how utterly satisfying a good meal could really feel. Not with how your own people treated such things, and certainly not with their inability to move from such idiotic customs and traditions – always looking towards a future they never truly worked towards. Though, you had no such problems, and if there was anything you had to thank them for – it would be that one fond, meaningful memory you hold that’s allowed you to see the error of their ways, and be the one to break the cycle of such foolish nonsense. They were lazy, almost arrogant with how confident they were that a good meal large enough to fulfill all of them would come someday and fall right into their laps. It was honestly embarrassing that you were supposed to be the same as them.

However, unlike them you have drive, ambition, and the will to actually try and achieve what they so desperately wished for. To say you had a ‘good meal’ was putting it lightly – as you’ve heard humans put it, in their terminology, you feasted like a king that day. Although the price was high, it was to be expected as food such as that didn’t come easy, nor did it simply grow from the ground. No, such a thing didn’t even exist on your planet.

The results alone were worth it, that much you knew – and it was enough for you to do it again, and again, and again.

One tradition from your species did stick, for it was the only thing that actually made your meals feel better with time. Especially as each and every feast made it easier to endure such things, and this own ‘habit’ of yours became more than just a means to an end. More than just a way to fill your gut and move onto the next planet – no, no, no. It was about feeling the rewards of your efforts, and being able to truly take it all in. You’ve heard a few humans refer to it as ‘chasing a high’, and you can certainly agree that it feels similar to that, just on a much larger scale.

Hence why now, your excitement knew no bounds. You could feel the sun just about to rise, but could feel all those already under its haze begin to fall rapidly, and that alone sent tingles down the spine of your current form. If there was one thing you appreciated about humans, it was their need to please – something that, in a moment like this, certainly changed things enough to where you would surely remember them after this. Their planet may have been small, but you could feel the thrill of the coming feast edging you on. These were certainly the most confusing, annoying, and impatient species you’ve ever worked with – but you couldn’t deny how helpful and fascinating they’ve been. You’ve learned a lot from this little preparation of yours, but now? Oh, now you’re able to finally relish in the reward for your efforts.

The small group of officers you came in with from Metropolis await outside the door for you, and line the hall in straight, parallel lines with their backs to the walls, and after them are the devout members of your little gathering you’ve had placed in Gotham a long time ago. You’ve honestly forgotten most of their names by now, but none of that mattered, and they didn’t seem to mind regardless.

A more natural smile rests on your face, and as you take one step out of the door, their bodies unravel right before your eyes. The very essence that made you, the thing your planet was mostly made out of, replaced the very humans who had followed you so diligently until this day. Most of them had described it as a sort of red dust, but you’d compare it more to the pollen plants on this planet produced, the ends of dandelions – but you could see the comparison, especially when it was more condensed. Something you had to figure out in order to even have them touch it or interact with it in any meaningful way. That was annoying at best, but once it was all figured out… well, you could appreciate humans for at least one other thing. Nevertheless, this was your reward to them, and they all took it with such ease that all you could do was smile wider and continue on with the rest.

The particles begin to swarm you, not one touching the ground as you breathe them in. Even tasting it on your tongue as you pass by more organisms, and they add to the growing haze around you.

By the time you step out of the apartment, it's hard for any other human to see you amongst the storm that seems to be forming around you, but you just continue to walk calmly. Each and every particle sinks into every pore of your body, and as much as you liked this vessel – since it was from one of your most devout followers, and you honestly had a bit of favoritism for it – you knew you’d have to let it go. Human bodies weren’t made to hold you, and could hardly withstand a fraction of your shifting abilities as it is. Like this, you knew it would only be moments until you shred this body to pieces with the mass you’re going to accumulate. Hm. Maybe as a true sign of respect for being such a wonderful host, and offering a body that could actually withstand the transfer while being able to last so long, perhaps you could save them last. For ‘dessert’, as humans called it.

You personally didn’t understand it fully, but it seemed like a good thing. So it’d have to do for now, and seemed honorable enough.

Licking your lips, the sun peaked above the horizon, and while it was still mostly white – the ring around it was a faint red, and the once blue skies were stained and tainted with murk, looking no better than the waters of the Earth. The clouds almost looked dirty from down below, and the world flooded with an odd silence it was never capable of before.

No screams sounded, but as you made your way to the heart of Gotham, many humans approached you to become part of the swirling particles around you that were growing into a sort of cyclone. All in an attempt to feed you, to give or gain whatever your mere ‘presence’ had told them. Their eyes began to leak with water, and they bore their teeth at you in such an odd way – with the corners of their lips still turned up, as if trying to smile with the bone underneath revealed. Something akin to ‘cheering’ filled the streets, and even if you didn’t fully understand the sound itself, you knew what it was supposed to convey.

Joy.

It was then that you knew this planet would truly be one to remember, as it too would relish this day – just as you were going to relish it.

Before you could risk more damage happening to this vessel of yours, you stripped yourself from it – tucking it away in a nook between buildings before letting the swarm fully attach itself to you with no barriers left in between.

Finally, you could eat to your hearts content.

— — — — — — — — — —

In full honesty, they should’ve anticipated that you’d be excited for this. That the very moment the first person decided to jump ship, you’d be itching to start, and get things going early – but they had hoped they’d have more time regardless. Your little countdown said as much, but clearly you were impatient, or simply just hungry – but those two things weren’t mutually exclusive, and it was sort of cute how excited you seemed to be. Even if the cost itself was great, and only growing steeper.

They were so close to finishing, and just on time too, but they’d just have to work with this. They didn’t have much of a choice, and even if they could hear the siren’s song from here, could feel the temptation in the very marrow of their bones as it practically ached to be released – they knew what awaited them would be much greater if they resisted and played this right. They’ve gathered as much help as they could, and with your effect washing over everyone on the planet at full force… well, if no one wanted what they did, they were useless anyway.

Getting started was easy – they had begun that part hours ago, and while you were taking your little ‘nap’ no less. A little over half of them were working on little to no sleep, but whatever you did…? It gave them just the energy boost they needed to continue regardless. As if their bodies have been freed of their limitations – or they just couldn’t feel the repercussions as strongly. Regardless of what it was, they weren’t complaining, and took full advantage of this. Barbara was even able to stand from her wheelchair, and even as her legs shook, she could nearly run like this despite still being unable to feel them entirely. Almost.

Those who were most needed on the finishing touches stayed, and the others went to greet you properly.

Finding you wasn’t the hard part – especially not when civilians were practically running in your direction, and all organic matter slowly seemed to fade away, and float towards where you were as well. Like just you revealing yourself made life corrode and rot away at the seems, almost like you had an amplified version of death’s touch, or perhaps were the manifestation of death itself – not that they believed such silly nonsense. You were a hungry little thing! You just needed a bit of discipline, and a very good teacher.

Luckily for you, they were many things – and they’d help you. Just as you’re going to help them.

The swarm looked mesmerizing from afar, and really matched the more earthy and dirty undertones the whole city seemed to take. Like roots from the ground, moss on walls, or vines hanging down from any high point they could reach – masses of flesh and veins seemed to form and grow. Latching onto buildings, and coming from the ground and every crack in the pavement below. Any other life that wasn't close enough to you, such as pets and so on… well, the crawling, writing masses from the ground and various buildings seemed to take care of it, and consumed what you immediately could not. Stemming from the very soil of the city that was once a dark brown, and now seemed oddly red – as did everything else the others seemed to touch before this day.

Small bits of vein and thin bones formed in food, with small pieces left in coffee beans, flour, and similar things having small spots of red in them. No one had to touch any of the baked goods to know the rot forming inside, and it's almost curious how all these small pieces writhe and wiggle, trying to reach one another in order to grow and form a larger mass. As if, even like this, such tiny pieces knew where other small fragments were. How to recognize each other, and had a natural need to be close. To fulfill its purpose.

Reaching the center of the city was easy, the lack of distractions was helpful – not that anything could take their eyes off of the spire forming right before their eyes.

Rising above the skyline, and as if trying to touch the sky and grow closer to the warmth the star it held, provided, was a sculpture in the making – and almost felt inappropriate to see it now, incomplete, unpolished, flawed in a way nothing human could be. Like strings of life, twisting in a braid, flesh from the ground began to rise up and formed something that was shaped like the top half of a human but lacked all the necessary features of one. Various rows of teeth, arteries, muscle, tendons, bone, and so on appeared all over the spire, with it growing much bigger the closer to the ground it was – where most of the feeding was done, as various mass of flesh dragged themselves across the ground and flung themselves to the center piece, allowing it to grow, and for the particles around you to take on a much brighter shade of red. The storm forming around you from the sheer amount of feeding you were doing all at once was nothing short of fascinating, but also made it easier to spot you, even if said ‘storm’ drew more dense around your form.

They couldn’t do much with the storm acting as a sort of barrier between you and them, and they knew the moment they crossed… well, their bodies would make the choice for them – and they couldn’t have that, so they started to cut off your supply from the outside.

Soon, smoke joined the clouds as fires began to spark, and nearly everything was set ablaze — something that immediately caught your attention. To say you weren’t happy was putting it mildly, but your actions afterwards were predictable.

You immediately went in for the attack, and chaos spawned from there. Noises never meant for human ears sounded, and it only further confirmed how alien you truly were – even if your most pure form tried to shape itself as a human at the top. Tendrils and other masses from buildings close to you shot out, and began attacking outside of the swarm of particles. Little to no thought was put behind the attacks, just simply charging forward, and trying to either grab ahold of or take out whoever was being attacked. All with the intent to kill, to consume no matter what – that much was obvious, and so was the fact that despite such smaller organisms holding no brain, they didn’t attack or run into each other. Working in tandem, acting as smaller parts that worked to keep the bigger, much larger and complex machine running.

The fight that broke out was messy, but thanks to you, the family was able to work in sync much better as well – and still being connected to you was very helpful in this instance. For once, the amount of damage they’d cause to the city was of little concern to them, as the flames roared on, and they used their most destructive methods yet. Others were extra messy with it compared to the rest, but there was a certain delicacy in their actions as the swarm slowly grew smaller and more dense, but ultimately got them closer to the center.

Naturally, your temper and mood was only worsening. Making you rage all the more and still try to consume as much as possible, but also growing more petty as you destroyed building, streets, and so on with your roots as an attempt to kill them, get them away from you, and or just rid of them entirely – but also to see something they had cultivated and tried to shape over their short lifespans, destroyed.

If they were all human, perhaps it would’ve worked – but they weren’t, and at least had partially expected this. After all, you were more akin to a child or wild animal when it came to these things. They didn’t exactly know how many times you’ve done this, or where, but had a good enough idea to suspect you didn’t expect much to begin with. Maybe this sort of thing had come easy to you before, and they didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing, but that also meant your defenses were down, and they fully intended to use that.

Eventually, the few left at the manor had come back to join the battle, with a note being made to Bruce, and some things being discussed as majority of the action was kept elsewhere. After, was when the real plan began.

They started at your roots, which you immediately tried to defend, but you had to focus on all other things as you couldn’t sacrifice the organisms closest to you for growth you could get back quickly. Food was the most important thing to you at the moment, everything else was secondary. Yet, it seemed like these damn Wayne’s knew that as they deliberately went after your food, and also burned your defenses.

This was supposed to be the easiest city to handle, the one that would allow you to pass the first stage with ease – and move in more food without anyone catching on too quickly. They had no powers, they were at the disadvantage besides a few flimsy contacts, and had only noticed anything was wrong during their final moments – but they somehow managed to learn of your greatest and most shameful weakness, knew where to attack, and were still able to coordinate and think clearly enough to form plans?! It wasn’t fair!! It isn’t FAIR!

Another loud shriek fills the air, and when you begin to feel a tingling ache – you finally take things a little more seriously, and more of your mass forms into muscle and bone. Yet, you swear you hear the smallest sounds of amusement from below through the smaller piece that had yet to reach you, coming from various members of this little, pathetic excuse of a so-called ‘family’. Something akin to anger sparks again, and you target all who dared to find anything about this ‘funny’.

You were so focused on targeting anyone who insulted you with such pathetic noises that you hardly noticed when you were low enough to swipe at some individuals – but eventually, you tire of this game.

“ENOUGH!” You shout, voice booming and loud as it echoes down the overwise quiet streets. Taking all the mass you could, you place yourself atop the spire of flesh, bone, and writhing life again. Forgetting your reasons for even doing this, you take in all of the particles that swarm around you, with them swirling around you in a whirlwind before it all stops, and you finally let out a sigh. Having to remind you that these foolish little creatures that dare stop you are made of only a fraction of what you have, that they are merely human, weak, and nothing more. A language without scripture falls from the countless mouths etched and stitched across the beautifully erotic form you call a body, but whatever you said, it makes the small pieces that were left in even the furthest parts of Gotham bolt towards you, and help grow the mass. There, much better.

Looking down at the pathetic life forms that tried to strike you down, you curse them in the only way you know how, and all the windows of the buildings around you shatter into fragments of glass. Whatever mass was able to grow in them. Formed together in large tendrils, and slammed down on the concrete below – beginning their own attacks, and rooting in the building they overtook. Like a parasite clinging onto its host long after death.

Anger itself wasn’t something you were entirely familiar with. You yourself didn’t seem to realize it, but they could tell – something like that is easy to pick up on in their usual line of work, and especially when one of them can read body language as easily as she can. It didn’t seem like an important detail, and it certainly didn’t make your attempts any less ruthless, but it made way for them to have the confidence that you’ve had all this time up until now.

Unfamiliarity can make one messy, uncoordinated, and unable to notice things they wouldn’t miss otherwise. Naturally, they should’ve been that way with you, but because of your very… ‘presence’ – it was nearly impossible for them to feel that way.

The air becomes harder to breathe as smoke continues to fill the air, and the smell of chemicals is mixed in. You hardly notice, not having such senses in a form like this, but you can feel the heat, and it only makes you more agitated – and thus more violent in your attempts to snuff out such insulting efforts to interrupt your feeding.

Your roots move further into the ground, and spread – parts of the braid that make up the lower half of your body untangle themselves and provide whatever defense and offense they can. More of your body hardens, and from down below, you look like a tree that’s slotted itself into the earth and just uncovered the fleshy, bone-like structure inside. People keep trying to run towards you, and fewer are succeeding, but those that do turn to particles for a brief moment before their immediate consumption. It’s clear you're taking this a little more seriously, and the family responds by doubling their efforts.

Then, the strangest thing happens as an oddly familiar shape moves in the sky, and soon blocks out the sun. Illuminating the pulsating, red mass that is your true and most captivating form. Yet, as much as they’d like to stand around and simply stare in awe, they take this opportunity while you’re disconnected from the sun.

Sounds of gunfire, roaring flames, indescribable shrieks, and occasional communication from the remaining heroes increase in volume as you only seem to grow bigger and bigger – yet clearly more agitated as well. Who knows what exactly is getting on your nerves, but it’s enough for you to swoop down and swipe at them. Something akin to animalistic growls escape the countless misshaped ‘mouths’ on your form, and your so focused on attacking and getting these pesky bugs away from you that you fail to realize a few areas on your roots begin to secrete a substance they aren’t supposed to. Though, when you finally do and are about to pull away – one of the younger ones, an anomaly you notice too late that is dressed like the pathetic family pulls you closer to them with a force you can hardly account for, and just as you try to retaliate, you realize you can’t right away.

The bottom half has been severed from you, and you only come to realize what, exactly, that substance may have been as an explosion ruptures throughout the city.

Of course, you try to over take the body of the being that grabbed you – only to get pulled off once again, and flung away from any nearby bodies. Only screams leave the body they severed you from, and all you can do is scramble as each part of you that’s left tries to latch onto something, anything, and that desperation nearly splits up the upper body you have left.

Some of it does split off, and as you lose multiple senses, you form very grotesque eyes on the neck of your form, and they move – trying to look in every direction possible for something to latch onto – and then you spot it.

Not a single question runs through your mind, as you rush and latch onto the body of the human form you had worn all this time. Which now laid out in the open, looked deprived and like it was nearly about to rot away at the seams – but as the smallest of tendrils from your body touch it, life returns to the corpse.

Of course, some damage is done to it, but you have no time to think about that as the sun begins to peek through the moon once more – only for it to get cut off once more. You can barely feel the warmth of its rays over the cold metal that both binds and burns you, but despite it all you try to fight it, and call to the pieces of you that remain.

Reaching out to the sun, you’re dragged across the rough concrete as you try to claw toward the sun. It’s harder than they expected to move you, but with enough effort, they’re able to pull you away.

At the sacrifice of some of your form, you try to shape whatever defenses you can and fight against whoever is dragging you and lash out against them – but more chains are formed as a response, and their grip on you is anything but kind and tender. They feel as if they’re about to rip you apart and melt away whatever’s left over, but nothing grants you that mercy.

Your sensations are dulled with the dark cloak that surrounds you, and you can hardly even register as you're thrown into a box that’s air tight. There is no telling where you’re going, if anywhere at all, but you can feel the call and connection to the pieces of you in Gotham City beginning to sever. Not once do you stop struggling and screaming. An endless stream of your own curses – both foreign and familiar to this planet accompany you until you're roughly tossed into a dark space you can hardly make out, but it feels as comfortable as the pavement in the human city.

The cloak falls, and you can only glare at the sight that greets you – but they can hardly focus on that, not when majority of the color in your iris has taken on a light shade of pink that surrounds your pupil in the shape of a large star, with the gaps in between each corner being filled with your original eye color. Mass of muscle is stuck to half of your face and around one of your eyes, as if the tendons themselves are attached to the skin and grew out of it. It trails down to your arm – with your hand being similar to Greenwood’s after his little ‘reveal’, only smaller and reduced to the same size as your human hand. It's clear the transition from your true form to a human one has come with its downsides and its own flaws, and even if at least one of them was sorry, a few weren’t and almost preferred you this way. It felt like the best of both worlds, and at least this way you were more comprehensible, and easier to understand. Less of a headache to look at – not that they had minded, you were utterly breathtaking regardless.

Still, with you down here, they had a lot of cleaning to do upstairs, and as right as it felt to be down here with you, they couldn’t let you get to their heads too much just yet. There would be time for that later.

“LET ME OUT!” You demand, and honestly it almost works – as did all of your commands prior to this, but just as all those previous moments, they’re able to resist. Their own drive and will trumping yours. Their need to have what’s been promised to them taking over any and all sense.

So, those that brought you in begin to leave, moving to the elevator they had used to come down and head back up to the batcave. However, the last of them stops for a moment, and turns to glance at you. “Just sit tight, and we’ll be right with you. Don’t try anything too drastic- I’d hate to return to nothing but a puddle of goop- and the others too, I guess.” He didn’t seem too thrilled on the subject, as if the concept of sharing with the rest upset him somehow. “But, go ahead and knock yourself out. Because you’re going to be staying with us for the rest of your time here on Earth. So, if you’ve got any other space buddies?”

He turns to face you better, though only by one additional step. “I hope your last memories of them were good enough.”

When he turns and leaves, another shriek tears through your throat, but by the time they all reach the bat cave, it’s hardly even audible. They can sense it more than they can actually hear it, which is an odd sensation but one they’re willing to adapt to. The payoff already feels more than worth it, and just knowing you're around makes them feel so good they don’t know how they’ve been able to survive without you until this point in their lives. Like they’ve all been missing something, and whatever it is, you have it, and are the key to gaining it.

So even as you scratch at the damp, cool walls – deprived of a meal you were so close to fully devouring, and your senses can hardly pick up on anything as the sun's rays are far, and all other extensions of yourself are being dealt with, you scream until you can no longer afford to sacrifice the amount of energy you were able to consume.

Earth will regret this. They will regret this, and you will do everything in your power to ensure that each waking moment of theirs is nothing but utter torture…

However, in spite of all the dark promises you make and vow to see through, your glorious feast is cut short, and life on Earth is allowed another day to flourish.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader #gn reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #tw suicide #tw monster #tw body horror #the red dawn

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