#and thus the brainrot continues | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sttoru · 1 year ago

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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒. love; you wonder if the king of curses is capable of feeling that emotion too. so, you take on a more direct approach to ask him.

word count. 1.7k

note. sukuna brainrot sorry. . .

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. angst (+ comfort) / fluff. size difference mentions. eh sukuna’s a bit mean. established relationship, but you’re like v early into the relationship.

it was a calm sunday evening. both sukuna and you had fulfilled your duties for the day. all you needed after working hard was the presence of the person you admire most. thus, you had made your way over to sukuna’s chambers. to your surprise, you already found him sitting on the engawa which led to the connected backyard.

sukuna noticed your presence, but didn't utter a word. he simply shot you a glance before continuing to stare into the distance. he seemed to be in deep thought about something. you didn’t want to bother him when he was like this, but the voice in your head told you to stay.

you silently kneel next to him and gather your hands in your lap. your eyes automatically move to focus on sukuna again. two of his hands are supporting his weight as they rest flat on the wooden surface. the other set rests limply on his thigh.

your gaze falls on his bottom left hand. the one he uses to kill, but also the one he uses to hold and caress you. you could easily recall its feel without having to touch him; rough, callused and warm. you reach your hand out towards his without hesitation.

sukuna’s eyes dart over to your small stature next to him. he allows you to grab his hand, to pull it over to your lap and let it rest palm up on your thighs. it’s almost funny. how big his hand is in comparison to yours.

the comfortable silence continues. the rustles of the leaves and the water movements in the koi pond in the yard are soothing to the soul. your finger traces the lines on sukuna’s palm, following them until they end before switching to the other.

the king of curses watches you play around with his hand. still with that stoic expression on his face. however, feeling your delicate touch on his skin and seeing you smile to yourself for whatever reason makes the corners of his lips curl up. for a split second.

a faint, amused grin. you sure are an interesting creature in his eyes.

“sukuna, can i ask you something?” you break the silence with a question. there is an unknown feeling in your chest; one that makes you restless at night. your smile slowly drops into a small pout when you think about what you want to ask him.

not a single action goes unnoticed by the man next to you. he lifts an eyebrow, but other than that, there’s no reaction visible. he answers you with a hum of approval, “mmh.”

you lift your head and look up at him. sukuna was already staring right at you—his piercing eyes catch your soft ones. he squints. there is something wrong with the way you are looking at him. normally, the smile you give him would reach your eyes. now it doesn’t.

that same smile completely disappears over time.

“do you.. are you..” you stammer. you don't know how to articulate your question. it’s probably dumb. to both you and him. sukuna watches you struggle to ask him whatever is on your mind. he firmly grabs your wrist and squeezes it. not too hard. he doesn't want to inflict any unneccesary pain.

sukuna sighs. a heavy sigh. one thing he dislikes is when you leave him in the dark. it isn’t the first time you did so during the past week. asking him if you could ask him a question and when he grants you the permission to, you back down or change topics.

it’s getting tiresome.

“spit it out.” sukuna grumbles. he pulls your body closer to his by your wrist, your arm stretched upwards with your hand hovering near the side of his face. his breath hits your wrist, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

crimson orbs stare right into your soul. you gulp and feel your body warm up. when you try to avert your gaze, one of sukuna's free hands grabs you by the jaw and steers your head to face him. his thumb presses down on your chin. he’s not letting it go today. he needs answers.

before sukuna could add to his words, you breathe in sharply. like you’re ready to ask him what had been weighing on your mind ever since a couple days back. oh, stupid it sure is. you know. you’re probably making it too big of a deal. when it isn’t. not in the slightest.

your eyes water. you blink the tears away. you don’t want to embarrass yourself any further by sobbing. your bottom lip trembles as you finally muster up the courage;

“do you love me?”

there it goes. you try to squirm away from sukuna’s grasp after that. you feel flustered. embarrassed. you just want to crawl into a hole and rot.

sukuna does not tighten his grip on you. instead, he loosens them. your wrist slips from his hand. your chin no longer restricted by his fingers. he lets you go.

a painful sting in your heart. you secretly hoped that he’d resist. pull you closer maybe. you don’t know why you expected that. you learnt not to get your hopes up around him and yet you always wish for him to do something.

a silence falls between the two of you again. you act like you didn’t ask him anything. you try to ignore the way sukuna clenched his jaw. how he subtly clicked his tongue. how he let you shuffle away from him.

you clear your throat. with hesistance this time, you gently grab one of sukuna’s hands again. that he allows you. you appreciate that. at least it means he isn’t completely upset. you know sukuna does not allow just anyone to touch him so without permission.

you hold tightly onto his hand like it’s your last hope. his fingers don’t close around yours, though. you don’t mind.

“what a foolish question.” sukuna scoffs and looks the other way. his voice was hoarse. probably from not speaking for quite what time. you silently nod. an expected answer, at last.

you stay silent after that. it hurts. more than you want it to have hurt. maybe it was too early into your relationship to ask such a question. you got into it, knowing fully well how harsh the man next to you could be sometimes.

what you can’t deny is that soft spot sukuna has for you. you see it. uraume sees it. the maids see it. sukuna probably.. knows of it, but doesn’t speak on it. he does not speak up about his feelings much anyway.

but it’s visible in his actions. the king of curses allows you to say and do whatever you want around him. he makes sure his subordinates treat you well. he looks at you with a hint of softness hidden in those red eyes. when he touches you, it’s firm but gentle. like he desperately craves to touch you, though knows not to make that yearning accidentally hurt you in any way.

the latter is what you love most about his soft spot for you. sukuna handles you with utmost care. even uraume had told you that it surprises them greatly whenever they witness the way their master treats you in general.

especially at night. you can’t count the amount of times you quite literally melted into his arms. those four, beefy arms that know just how to make you feel protected. you never sleep in unease. you know that nothing could hurt you when you’re laying against his chest.

sukuna’s actions speak volumes. despite all of that, you wish he’d at least tell you with his words. how much you mean to him.

“my apologies.” you give up. for today, you’ll let him be. the slight irritation in his voice earlier nearly made you cry. he needs more time and you’ll give him that. you slowly detach your small hand from his big, warm one, “i won’t ask you that again.”

sukuna frowns and grumbles something under his breath. you think it’s still because of your previous question, yet his gaze tells a different story. he narrows his eyes as he glares down at his now empty hand. you connect the dots once you see the man take a glimpse at your hand on your lap.

your touch. the sudden abscence of your touch.

“i didn’t say you could do that.” sukuna murmurs. his tone low and maybe even upset to a certain degree. you blink a few times and freeze on spot. the king of curses starts to get grumpy the longer you fail to take the hint.

he kisses his teeth out of impatience. sukuna tightly gets ahold of your hand again and softly yanks it towards him. you squeal as your body stumbles closer to his.

sukuna holds eye contact with you as he brings your hand to his mouth. his tongue wets a spot on your palm—specifically the area that connects your thumb with your wrist. your lips part, your tummy doing flips from the sudden touch.

“don’t let go again,” he bares his teeth before slightly sinking them into the soft flesh. it isn’t a hard bite. more a nibble that leaves a faint mark. what you didn’t expect was for sukuna to kiss that same place after marking it. his thumb runs over that exact spot as well, “got that?”

you nod. you’re unable to refuse him. those feelings of disappointment from earlier long forgotten. you intertwine your fingers with sukuna’s and unlike the previous instant, his fingers do curl back around yours. your skin is still tingling from the feeling of sukuna’s kiss.

the king of curses keeps your entwined hands on his lap this time. he stares off into the distance for a couple seconds before returning his gaze to you. he scans your face and finds what he had been missing;

that tender smile of yours. it was back, tugging at your lips. one of your fingers resumes its soothing motion on his rough skin again. sukuna’s face relaxes. his jaw unclenches.

“good.” sukuna nods at the sight. he turns to watch the night sky again—secretly (yet not so secretly) enjoying this moment of peace.

you’re content with how that ended. and, you’re sure that you don’t mind if it takes days, weeks or even months for your relationship to fully blossom. when you’re with sukuna, one thing is clear: actions do speak louder than words.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk angst #sukuna angst

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orangez3st · 2 months ago

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Pardon the Way That I Stare

Clone Commando Boss × F!Reader

✧ Summary: Delta Squad's sergeant is having a silly little crush on a cafe stage performer.

✧ Tags & Warnings: songfic, love at first sight, tooth-rotting fluff (dare i say so), reader is described to have hair that gets tucked behind the ear, reader plays guitar and sings, delta shenanigans

✧ Word Count: 3.7k

✧ A/N: I was planning to hold this off until the next Friday but I couldn't wait with all this widespread Delta brainrot—it's spurring me on 😩 and! This goes to you all Boss gurls (gn). This fic serves as a friendly reminder on the fact that Boss was voiced by Temuera Morrison himself and thus makes every clone an amazing singer, really. Hope you enjoy this one! Playing the linked tune is recommended too 🎶

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Boss (in-header image)

divider by me -> Delta Squad helmet PNG's by @stars-n-spice

“Hey Sarge.”

When Boss breaks out of his mulling, the cafe remains the same. Still bustling with typical normality of early dinner hour—cutleries cutting into pastry plates or scooping fried grains, decent chatters drowned by the stage performer's voice accompanied by the unmistakable acoustic strums of guitar.

“Do me a favor and give this”—Scorch slides a cool glass of water toward him—”to the girl in the front.”

The sergeant stares at his fellow Delta. “Where are you going with this?”

“Come on, Boss,” Sev scoffs, “You've been staring.”

“For a painfully long time,” Fixer adds, for once not clutching a datapad close to his person.

Scorch snaps his fingers. “See? Even Fixer's gonna blow himself up if you keep staring and do nothing.”

Okay, he may or may not be admitting that he's been staring at you for a bit… you just look ridiculously dashing in your obvious sixth-semester-uni casual getup while seated on the high chair and strumming your nylon guitar away, your warm and slightly raspy voice piercing through the cafe atmosphere. Nimble fingers moving through the chords and soft overhead lighting silhouetting your figure, you bring a certain inviting air that captivates the Delta sergeant.

Someone said you had your tattoo removed Saw you downtown singing the blues It's time to face the music I'm no longer your muse

“You're staring again,” Sev's voice yanks him out this time, followed by Scorch's shameless snicker and Fixer's smirk.

“Fine,” Boss relents, picking on a mushroom fritter that they ordered and chews. “But after the song ends.”

“She looks like she needs a break,” Scorch wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe a cute little brief ice cream date afterward?”

“Scorch,” Boss warns, heat creeping into his cheeks. Son of a gundark. “I’m—” Kriff why is he speaking? Too late to go back (even Fixer is staring into him too intently and too encouragingly, which is strange coming from Fixer) he opts to hope for the best, “I'm not sure… if she wants ice cream. Affects the throat or something like that? She sings.”

“One night of ice cream won't do much harm to a singer,” Fixer says.

“And why are you encouraging this?”

“We agreed you need to get laid,” Sev says, quite shamelessly in the middle of a bustling cafe.

“Tone it down, Oh-Seven,” Boss commands in his best Sergeant voice, very uncharacteristic of him since usually it's Fixer's line.

Speaking about Fixer, the other one who's been uncharacteristic tonight; the slicer continues to encourage him. “Boss,” he says, an air of seriousness floating about him, “Just a date. It's fine.”

In another life I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world

The Sergeant loosens up, leaning back into his chair. If the way he crosses his arms isn't getting any acknowledgement that this teasing conversation is over, nothing's restraining him to close the bill and wrap up. Thankfully, they resort to themselves; Scorch scooping up his spagyu shaak fat fried grains, Sev slurping his blumberry peppermint milkshake noisily, Fixer mulling over the extra-shot long black that no doubt will serve its purpose after curfew, and Boss watching your strum your chords with a hint of a smile.

You haven't noticed the certain intrigued guy in the audience, though. As an occasional cafe singer, you're used to being ignored, but it's no longer lies that performers crave for appreciation too. You've got a little box in the corner for people to put their credits in, and always slip a thanks love! in your songs at the sound of money.

Ending the song with its last chord, you lean closer to the mic. “Thanks for coming to Serenade, we hope you're having a great dinner—early dinner, afternoon snacks. My favorite is the Rishi corn cream soup with a perfect buttered golden brown toast, if you ask me.” The gig should involve you promoting the menu like a radio broadcaster, unfortunately, and it cuts your performance hour by 9 seconds or something. “But hey, if you've got any request for me to sing, just lob it at me, loves. Thanks again!”

Without waiting for responses, you step off the chair to take 5.

“Hey, that was amazing.”

Stashing your guitar, you turn and briefly observe the man behind the voice. A sharp inhale of breath. He's a clone, you notice, and out of the usual grey leave attire. Instead, the clone in front of you dons some proper civvies that you almost mistook him for a fellow uni student had it not because of the famously similar features and broad physique of an experienced soldier.

The direct praise, and the fact that he approaches you to compliment you personally, makes you smile. “You think so?”

He nods. “I've… been watching, if you didn't notice. Your voice is pleasant.” You enjoy watching the way his hand rubs the back of his neck. Then, as if startled by the cargo in his hand, he hands it to you. “Also, here. This is for you.”

Your eyebrows lift to the sky at the perfect, enticing glass of water—the very first thing you’ve been wanting to grab. “Oh thank you!” You probably shouldn't take something from a stranger, but you're sipping on it already by the time you realize it. You wipe your mouth with the back of your sleeve, lifting the empty glass to your eye with another smile. “Double thanks actually, love.”

“You're welcome,” he smiles, offering a hand. “I’m Boss.”

Shaking his hand, you supply your own name as well to the introduction. “Enjoying a nice leave, Boss? Or a small getaway from mess hall food?”

Boss chuckles airily. “You could say it's both.”

You hum, warming up quickly to the friendly air of the conversation. “You here alone? With your mates?”

“Yeah, my squad. They're over there.”

He jabs a thumb backward, and you look over his shoulder to catch the stares of three other men, who then either nods up at you or waves friendly. You grin and wave back, frowning when one of them, the one with bleached hair, waves you over. Without waiting for Boss and instead anticipating what shenanigans could possibly occur, you approach their table curiously.

Meanwhile, Boss resists the urge to groan out loud, thus succeeding in keeping his composure.

One of them with glasses and green bomber jacket acknowledges your approach with a welcome nod. “You really shouldn't take something so easily from strangers. I thought you were gonna play hard to get.”

“Disappointed?” you smirk, “Can't blame a thirsty performer who's been singing three songs without a water break in between, boys.”

From beside you, Boss sighs out loud. “This is Fixer, Sev, and Scorch,” he introduces, pointing to Glasses, Muscle Tee, and Bleached Tips—respectively. To be honest, you were growing to like the nicknames of your creations—

“Hang on,” you pause, index finger pointing around the table, “You're the Delta Squad?”

They straighten up and shift in their seats. You almost want to laugh.

Scorch though, poses no shame at all with a stupid smile, a gesture that signals you're graced with the presence of the clown of the group. “Now how did you know that?”

“Oh y'know, you're famous.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Heroes of the Republic and all.”

“You sure?” Sev challenges, catching your nervous tic, “That's Cody and Fi and a bunch of shinies on the propaganda posters, not us.”

You wilt under their scrutiny. Scorch's is playful though, and genuinely curious, but Fixer's is completely serious. He must've thought of you as a spy or something. A little exaggerated, but you understand. “Fine,” you huff, “I've got a douche ex who happened to work in your establishment.”

“Huh,” Boss remarks beside you, “Officer?”

“Mmmno...”

Scorch snorts. “No way. A reg?”

You open your mouth to quip, but you're already flushed in slight embarrassment that words escape you.

“Hey, no need to be shy about dating clones or we'll be insulted otherwise,” Fixer says.

You chuckle awkwardly. “Sorry. Didn't mean that. But he was really bad.”

“Well. Have you ever tried with a commando?” Sev asks you, one eyebrow arched.

“What, like you?” you grin, glancing at Boss. Oh you know his intention for approaching you with praise and a glass of water, alright. Unable to stand his ground with you batting eyelashes at him with a glowing smile, Boss looks away. You hold in a snort. Got him. Shrugging and still locking your gaze his way, you quip, “Well I see no harm in that.”

“Hear that, Boss?” Scorch grins, his cadence matching the maniacal enthusiasm with his brother. “Absolutely no harm.”

“Sure here's my comm,” you joke, inviting a round of chuckles from around the table. “Anyway. Any song requests? As much as I'd love chatting with you all, I need to fill up my hours before wrapping up for the night.”

“Sarge here got something,” Sev grins, a maniacal glint in his eyes. “Go on, sir.”

“If you three are done with the bullying, I'm gonna assign us all four to the 0430 PT.”

Fixer visibly pales.

“Actually he wants to go up on the stage with you. Heplaysguitartooyouknow,” Scorch says quickly before ducking under the table.

You giggle at his antics before turning to Boss, whose face is in his hands, amused with the fact bomb. “Your squadmate speaking the truth, love?”

He grunts.

Whatever spell you're putting on him, it works. Especially when you throw love so easily, even though it's casual, but it's working. Boss curses himself, or not. Maybe he's gonna be lucky today. Your subtle barely flirting is having an effect on him that he starts to feel hot under the collar.

“Well done, wiseguy. You've doomed us all with early PT,” Sev grumbles.

Scorch pops his head up and looks at you wide-eyed. “Save us!” he whisper-shouts.

“Yeah don’t punish them, Sarge,” you deadpan, your cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. Part of the reason is you've taken the fact with heartfelt surprise that Boss, too, plays an instrument. That makes you wonder which style he likes. How well he plays. How often. Does he grumble when the strings are out of tune? Most importantly, how charming is his singing voice?

Then, your playful and sociable upbringing shifts into something else. Boss, who's been watching you since the squad stepped inside the cafe, recognizes it instantly. Sweet, with infinite layers of kindness. Passionate, encouraging. It's surprising to him still how much he can deduce out of you in a mere hour.

“Do one song with me,” you ask, without pressure, of course. “If that’s okay with you? If that's not going against whatever clause in your rules?”

“None of our rules goes against singing in public,” Fixer supplies, unhelpfully. “Yours?”

You shrug. “This is my cousin's place. I can do whatever I want as long as I perform onstage,” you grin, tugging at Boss' sleeve, “Come along? We'll just do one song that you like and you can go back to your seat.”

You bat your eyelashes again, your eyes glimmering.

Well how is he supposed to say no to that.

“Fine,” Boss sighs, then turns sharply to the rest of his men. “And we still get early PT.”

Collective groans.

“I'm so sorry about them,” Boss immediately says as both of you strut away and head for the stage.

“I get it, don't worry. I bet they give you life in your team.” You throw a grin over your shoulder as you return to the small spot in the corner, stepping over cables and grabbing your guitar. “Now say about you playing guitar?”

Back at the Delta booth, Sev observes the way both you and Boss trade a light conversation only you can hear. You're agreeing on something with those repetitive nods and passing your guitar to Boss before going to the back, leaving the Sergeant a little awkward with the instrument.

“Think he's gonna survive the crowd?” Scorch says beside him.

“S’not a massive crowd. No one's really paying attention,” Fixer replies, “Performances like this are purely for the ambience.”

“Plate of fried grains on cold feet,” Sev bets, still watching you finally return with an extra chair, “With extra chili.”

“Absolutely not,” Fixer sharply cuts in.

“Deal,” Scorch, the spice lover himself, pipes up mid-bite, his fork falling to the plate. The duo then shake on it.

Fixer lets out a long sigh. “Why.”

“Welcome to Serenade, citizens of Coruscant, here we have the best grilled cheese with three kinds of Saleucami cheeses. Or was it four? Either way, it's really good with blumberry peppermint milkshake, not gonna lie.”

“And she's an excellent gimmick,” Scorch laughs, his shoulder shaking from the intensity of it. Sev scoffs, twirling the straw in the aforementioned milkshake that he actually ordered for himself while his brother clutches his chest. “Love her already. Imagine Boss with a silly girlfriend!”

“Looking at it now,” Fixer smirks, watching both of you finally settling in, Boss sitting just beside you with an extra mic in front of him that you helped set up.

You're situated near the electric drum kit supplied by the cafe itself, ready to focus on a particular set of rhythm of the song Boss whispered to you earlier (and wing it, since this is practically a spontaneous collab). Holding your guitar, Boss experimentally strums a chord. You grin at his excellent handling—he definitely plays on a regular basis. Maybe his brothers get annoyed here and then by his excessive playing.

“Nice,” you remark, leaning away from the mic as far as you can. And Manda, you're multi-talented. Your pleased smile is so brilliant Boss can't tear his awed gaze away from you. He can't help but smile as well—your energy onstage is infectious and it's getting the best of him, boosting his confidence. “Ready when you are, love. I'll wing it and harmonize.”

He chuckles to himself, once again feeling his cheeks warming against his own will. Or maybe he wants that. Maybe he wants you to keep calling him love.

Without further ado, Boss starts to pluck a set of chords that click instantly within you. The drumsticks in your hand, you let your brain running miles per hour and your foot tapping gently against the floor to discover his rhythm.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you You feel like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

You can't help but bite your lips in, stealing glances at Boss who's knowingly, knowingly, doing the same to you. “Very subtle,” you mouth at him, inviting his grin and the next set of lyrics breaking a little from his laughter, sounding all too happy, and full with his robust, charming smile. You shake your head. Your cheeks may hurt like it's swollen, but you're ready with your drum kit and set yourself off to the rhythm.

Pardon the way that I stare There's nothing else to compare

As he sings, Boss tilts his body to you, finding you slightly frowning to keep up with your drum kit and focus because even the most terrible partygoer on the dancefloor knows the importance of rhythm.

But at least you now know that this song is for you.

And if you feel like I feel Please, let me know that it's real

“Oh it's real,” you quip to the mic, your eyes flicking to Boss who's chuckling to himself away from the mic, and you decide to enter to fill him in.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you

You nod along his riff, the catchy one that everybody knows and sometimes gets them dancing to it. Smiling, you let your muscle memory work its wonder as you fall into a duet for the chorus with your new performing counterpart.

I love you, baby And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby To warm those lonely nights I love you, baby Trust in me when I say

“They have to trade riduurok tonight or I'll combust,” Scorch comments, chin in hand, already absolutely shipping you and Boss practically married on the stage. Sev hums in agreement, subconsciously mimicking his brother's stance, head swaying slightly to the beat.

Fixer scans the entire cafe. The difference is striking—people wouldn't expect a clone performing in it. One with a great voice, at that. Boss is talented in that particular area. Fixer has lost count already how many times he catches Boss singing in the shower. A tinge of worry slips into his thoughts, though; he hopes you're not getting in trouble for this since the lifted datapads to record the performance is an after-effect of your initiation. Or maybe not, since it might boost the cafe's today's income.

“Worse thing is we'll be gaining more fans,” Sev quips.

Fixer nods along, playful. “And more demands for clones to initiate a music performance.”

“Next time you know we're setting up a fundraiser concert,” Scorch says.

“Yeah? For who?”

Sev scoffs, “What kind of question is that?”

“Why, us, of course!!” Scorch grins, “After all; we're broke.”

In the end, you're taking another five after doing three more songs with Boss on request from the patrons, every single one of them particularly spontaneous. And honestly, you can't exactly figure out how both of you fall so naturally with each other's play on your instruments. It's as if you can read each other's mind, surrendering to one another's lead only signaled with a stolen glance that somehow you just know what would entail, what would be perfect.

And in the end, even after packing your beloved guitar since your given hours are up (and after one more plate of fried grains with extra chili for Scorch because apparently Sev lost a bet), your post-performance adrenaline is still coursing through you.

Boss notices how energetic you are, and he can see he's been contributing to such an effect. His arm shivers at the spot where you touch him fondly while you strike up conversation with the others, and all he can think about it is you're breathtaking you're great you're so talented your voice is perfect can I take you out—

Oh, he's down bad. You're going to take over his mind for the week, and maybe even longer.

Finally the Delta Squad clears their table, with Boss insisting to walk you to your dormitory building when you told them it's just a few blocks away. Well, not that you complain. The boys don't. Boss surely doesn't. As the neon lights of Coruscant nightlife wash over every surface and every pedestrian making their way along the sidewalks, Fixer and Sev take initiative to lead the way, one of them gripping a datapad, holomaps already pinned to your place. From behind, Scorch drapes both arms heavily over your shoulders and Boss’.

“You’re leaving good memories for us four,” Scorch says to you—your guitar case slung over his back—before sparing a glance at Boss with a knowing look in his eyes, “I think we won't be able to stop thinking about you.”

You laugh, the pleasant sound setting butterflies to explode in Boss’ stomach. “Just don't let my fabulous self disturb your missions out there.”

“Oh it won't,” Scorch wiggles his eyebrows, hand going up to ruffle Boss’ reg haircut, “At least to me—”

Boss shrugs him off. “Scorch.”

“Oh relax, Sarge. You sound too much like Fixer on the field today.” Scorch lets both of you go, intercepting the space in-between and walking backward toward the other Deltas. “Try to be yourself while asking her for that ice cream date.” Winking, he cups his hands around his mouth and whisper-shouts, “It's not too late!”

Watching Scorch finally turning around, you let out an awkward chuckle. “Um, what ice cream date?” You turn to Boss.

The Sergeant rolls his eyes. “It's, um,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Just a di'kutla inside joke. Dumb inside joke.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You make inside jokes about ice cream dates with your mates?” you smirk, touching his arm, “You sure it wasn't about me, love?”

Boss has to resist the urge to groan while shoving his face into his hands. “Fineitwasaboutyou.”

“Gods, you're cute,” you gush, the last syllable morphing into a pretty laugh that makes him wanna triple cartwheel on the very sidewalk he's walking on. He pretends to not hear that. He doesn't hear that. It feels too unreal. He doesn't. Compared to yours, where did his confidence boost go? This Boss is totally different from the guy who took to the stage and gathered quite an intrigued audience moments ago.

He releases a stiff laugh, though it sounds deliberate to you so that the tension on his shoulders melt away. “I'm so sorry.” Stupid. This is what happens if you've never gone out for months.

“No don't be!” you laugh, “Besides, I’m all ears for another date.”

Boss freezes momentarily, his steps faltering for a split second before catching up to you, and for the first time that moment he really looks into you. “Another date?”

“Mhm,” you nod enthusiastically, “I'd say that was already a date.”

“The duet?”

“You were amazing, in case I haven't told you that.”

“You have. About ten times, actually.”

“That is because you are.”

Despite being rendered speechless, Boss manages a smile at you, a genuine one, his confidence finally bursting off of him.

“Copy that,” he says, “Know some good place for dinner some time next week?”

You hum. “There's this Kommerken flank steak wrap place I’ve been really wanting to try. Or do you want something sit-and-talk kinda date?”

“Wrap sounds good,” Boss agrees quickly, “Anything else?”

You try to think of anything else. Wrap means on-the-go food, you're going to walk and talk, maybe exploring a patch of Uscru while at that… “Park?” you suggest, leaning closer to him, “I'll bring my guitar and serenade you to oblivion, love.”

Oh how badly he wants to close that distance between you. But… looks like it has to wait till next week, then. “Game on, love.”

Other featured song:

Taglist: @yoursrosie @msmeredithrose @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak @lucyysthings

@mutilatemyheart more Boss fic for the cause!

Credits: Fixer wearing glasses is @leafdupe's headcanon 💚 vod I simply must adopt that one

#songfic #boss x reader #clone commando boss #clone commando boss x reader #star wars #republic commando #delta squad #the clone wars #tcw #delta squad x reader #clone x reader #x reader #star wars fanfiction #z3st reader fics #Spotify

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incorrect-green-lantern-quotes · 5 months ago

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I have so many questions about Tai Pham’s universe (Earth-98)

Like, Green Lantern: Legacy only mentions Tai's grandmother and John Stewart as Green Lanterns from Earth, and shows that Kim Tran was the hero always thwarting Sinestro in the past. On top of that, it seems like GLs are virtually unknown on Earth, judging by how Tai doesn't recognize their symbol despite it being very prominent on the ring he inherits from his grandma.

So the natural assumption is that Kim basically takes the place of Hal Jordan in this universe and thus history plays out differently enough that Earth only has two GLs. And while other superheroes probably do exist on Earth-98, judging by the Superman poster on Tai's wall, it seems like Kim mainly operated in secret or out in space.

(While raising her family and running a store that was a pillar of her community, no less. Hal wishes he had that level of mental stability.)

But then in Green Lantern: Alliance, Irey (Kid Flash) mentions Hal, and Kyle shows up at the end! So does that mean a version of Emerald Twilight happened in this reality too?? And if so, was it still Hal who got possessed by Parallax or did Sinestro go for a different target?

Kim's hair does get those ominous gray streaks...

Tbf she was already a grandmother by this point, and subsequent flashbacks show her hair turning evenly gray over time. So this is more likely just Kim aging naturally, and not a sign of her unknowingly hosting the ancient embodiment of fear.

Parallax speculations aside, GL:A doesn't shy away from incorporating the wider DC universe. Flashbacks show that Kim not only fought alongside Superman and the Flash, but seemed to be just as much a mentor for them as she was for John. And that does make a lot of sense, she was already Green Lantern during the Vietnam War. She's been doing the superhero thing since Clark and Wally were still in diapers.

Which begs the question, was Kim part of the Justice League? Did she help found it, or was that still Hal? Was there even a Justice League in this Earth???

(Tai does suggest he and Irey form a "Junior Justice League," thereby implying that the actual Justice League does exist)

I know I probably sound like a crazy person ranting in front of a conspiracy board. Truth be told, the easy explanation is Tai Pham's story is about him and Kim's legacy, so these questions aren't important enough for Minh Le to waste time answering. And since Earth-98 is an alternate universe, there's no reason to assume that things had to happen a certain way just because they did in main continuity.

But I still have so many questions!! How did Kim get her ring? Did Abin Sur crash in Vietnam instead of America?? Do the Teen Titans exist or do Tai and Irey start that in this universe??? What about the the JSA-

*gets dragged off-stage*

If you've made it this far, thanks for putting up with the brainrot, it will happen again. Anyways, I leave you with this little headcanon: Kim probably named her family's cat after Hal

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superpyodan · 18 days ago

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🌱🏈💐🐟🌱🏈💐🐟🌱🏈💐🐟🌱

one year of boys will be boys

a year ago today i started writing boys will be boys! i had just finished my first year of university & had been having severe gay alex brainrot. i created kenny and started writing in the passenger seat of the car with little to no plan, and thus, bwbb was born!

i spent all summer writing it, and a year later, i’m still writing kenny & alex and i have made so many friends through it ❤️ how loved bwbb & kenny and alex are blows me away every day, and im so thankful and appreciative of everyone who’s ever cared, read, commented, and/or let me infodump to them about it. thank u to all the artists and the encouragers and lovers. you are the absolute best 🌷

i am so proud of bwbb and everything that’s come out of it. it kept me sane during an otherwise very lonely summer, and continues to keep me sane through exam seasons and depressive episodes and my study abroad applications and just about everything else. i’m glad people love my little stories just as much as i do, and i hope i can keep doing this for a very long time. words just aren’t enough, but they’re all i have.

thank you! ❤️ ありがとうございます! ❤️

#thank you forever #fywh #superpyodan #kenny archer #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley #alex mullner #stardew valley fanart #alex stardew valley art #sdv #boys will be boys

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agreeewrites · 6 months ago

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what is this feeling? LOATHING

🩷 Evan Rosier x Barty Crouch Jr. 💚 (rosekiller)

an: inspired by "What Is This Feeling?" from the Wicked soundtrack. I have a headcanon that Evan and Barty loathed each other when they first met, and after seeing Wicked last week….this is all I’ve been able to think about.

enjoy my brainrot

As soon as Evan Rosier, the exceedingly beautiful, polished, poised, and disgustingly wealthy heir of the Rosier name, and Barty Crouch Jr., a too-tall muppet whose father worked in—gag—government, laid eyes on one another during the Sorting Ceremony, it was loathing at first sight.

And then they discovered they’d not only be attending Hogwarts together, but sharing a bunk. Oh, the gloves were off. Hatred rose in them like a fervid flame, their hearts racing with outrage whenever the other so much as spoke, moved, breathed.

Evan hated the way Barty dressed, hapless, dreary, and ill-fitting, with far too few embellishments. Barty hated the way Evan laughed, posh and superior, like him laughing at your joke was some great and profound kindness.

They had waged a silent war upon one another. Evan, with his pack of pure-blood pups desperate for taste of Wizard Royalty, terrorized Barty with pity, with cruel jokes and japes. Evan’s grin never wavered, razor-sharp and wicked.

Barty, alone and ostracized by the sheer power of the Rosier name, took it up on himself to ruin as many small moments of Evan’s day as possible. Hiding behind doorways to scare him, just to see that smile falter. Answering questions before Evan had a chance to raise his hand. Taking the last pumpkin pastie because he knew they were Evan’s favorite, even though Barty hated them.

Pure, unadulterated loathing became the rhythm of their lives.

They’re sat in the Great Hall at breakfast after the first week, writing letters to their parents at opposite ends of the Slytherin table.

Evan’s script is tidy and sharp, not a misspelled word or grammatical error in sight.

“Dearest Mother and Father,” Evan writes. “Hogwarts has been a delight thus far, exactly how you described it, Father. And I’m deeply grateful for the additional trunks you sent to ensure I have all the comforts of home. But, despite your best efforts, there seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding with my dormitory assignment. I was under the impression I would be bunking with like-minded folks, Black’s and Avery’s and Mulciber’s. However, I have another roommate that is—” Evan tapped the quill to his lip, risking a glance down the long table at Barty.

Barty was sitting on the table, a scrap of parchment in his lap, a black cat perched on his shoulder to watch as he scribbled on the unbalanced sheet. His hair was stuck up at odd angles, his tie crooked and socks mismatched.

“Pop, they’ve put me with the royal fucking family,” Barty wrote, his pen punching through the paper on ‘g’. “I know you set this up to try and rub elbows, but Merlin. This one bloke, he’s so—” He turned his head to look at Evan, and their eyes snagged across the great expanse of breakfast food.

Evan scoffed, turning back to his letter and continuing to write. “He’s unusually and exceedingly peculiar, and altogether quite impossible to describe.”

Barty, his quill gripped tightly in his hand, scratched “…blonde.”

In third year...

“Salazar’s sakes, Evan, I don’t know how you can stand sharing a room with Crouch,” Lestrange spit while they walked towards the Common Room. “I would have hexed him ages ago.”

Evan shrugged, ever composed despite the smug satisfaction curling along his spine. “I’m never one to shy away from a challenge, Rab. Strife only makes us stronger,” Evan replied, turning at a bend in the corridor.

“Poor Evan!” Alecto cried, hanging on his arm. “You’re so strong for putting up with his antics. We’re all here for you.”

“We hate Crouch too!” They chorused.

Evan spotted Barty reclined in an alcove, a book in his lap, his long legs stretched high above him. A thrill rushed through him, burning and ravenous, strong enough to consume him.

Barty could sense as soon as Rosier entered his general vicinity, a crawling at the back of his neck, like he could taste the bastards vintage cologne on the air. But he held perfectly still as Evan and his groupies descended the corridor, even flipping a page he hadn’t read to appear more convincing.

At the last moment, right before Evan walked past him, Barty tossed his book onto the floor. Evan’s patent-leather boot snagged on the cover and he fell face first onto the stone. The group fell upon him, clucking and fussing like mother hens, and Barty slipped away, snickering to himself.

Bloody hell, he could do this forever.

In fourth year...

The one thing Barty and Evan had in common, that they knew of, was Regulus. The sly, stoic Black managed to befriend them both: Evan, because they shared a lot of complicated family history, and Barty, because he knew how it felt to be mistreated by the one’s who were supposed to take care of you.

All three were attending a party in the Slytherin common room despite being underclassman. Evan and Regulus were invited because of their names, Barty because he brought the weed. The party was rapidly descending into chaos, the prefect tied to the chandelier while the upperclassman raged, smashing priceless artifacts and incinerating paintings, fireworks exploding along the ceiling and raining ash over everything, the room thick with smoke.

Evan spotted Reg first, cornered by his older cousin, Rodolphus, and his friends, holding him up by the collar against the glass wall separating them from the Black Lake. He made a beeline towards them, red bleeding into his vision. His hand wrapped around the end of his wand, Stupify on the tip of tongue.

“Oi! Rudy!” Someone shouted, and everyone turned, Evan included. Barty stood on the bar, his wand out and pointed at the offenders in question. “Drop him, or else I hope you memorized a spell to grow gills!”

The room sucked in a breath.

Levitating several feet above their heads was a massive, marble bust of Salazar Slytherin. It was solid stone and must weigh a ton, though Barty showed no strain on his face, and it was aimed directly at the giant wall of glass.

Evan was stunned, looking rapidly between the bust, Regulus, and the slightly mad look in Barty’s eye. Something warm bloomed in his chest, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think it was admiration.

Barty spotted Evan a few paces from Regulus and the others, his wand flagging as he looked around, wide-eyed and smiling. Did he know he was smiling? Barty wasn’t sure. Evan had never smiled at him before, and it made his tongue feel thick in his mouth, his heart pounding even harder in his chest.

The bust was heavy at the end of his wand, but he held fast. “One,” he said, pulling it backwards a bit, then forward in a rocking motion. The room started to hum, panic rising. “Two,” he sing-songed, rocking it back a little farther.

“Fuck, fine! You’re mad, Crouch!” Rodolphus hollered, setting Regulus on his feet and smoothing his rumpled robes before stalking off into the crowd.

Barty blew him a kiss before jumping off the bar. But in his haste to check on Regulus, he dropped the bust. Several thousand kilos of marble came plummeting to the ground, students shrieking and running towards the exit.

“Leviosa!” Evan shouted, flinging his wand arm out, and the bust stopped a foot from the ground. The room loosed a collective exhale as Evan slowly moved it back to it’s pedestal, safe and sound.

The room erupted in cheers for Evan, who preened under the attention, but Barty found that it didn’t bother him as much as usual. IN the shuffle, he managed to reach Regulus, who was a little wild-eyed and tousled, but unharmed.

“Alright, mate?” Evan said, coming up on Barty’s left, close enough he could smell the fire whiskey he’d been drinking.

“Fine, yeah,” Regulus said, smoothing a hand through his dark curls like nothing at all had transpired.

Barty and Evan glanced at each other, a flicker of understanding passing between them. A chuckle escaped from Evan’s chest, and Barty smiled.

In fifth year…

“Do you shop in a fucking dumpster?” Evan shouted, riffling through Barty’s trunk.

“Depends on the dumpster,” Barty replied, blowing smoke out of the dorm window.

“Seven hells, you know, a polished outfit goes a long way.” Evan clapped his hands together. “I’ve got it!”

“Oh, Gods.” Barty stubbed his finished joint on the sill.

“I’m going to take you under my wing, Junior!” Evan turned to his trunk, determined to find something tolerable for Barty to wear to the Ravenclaw party. “You’ll be my newest project.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

Evan clutched an ascot to his chest, nodding sympathetically. “I know, that’s what makes me so nice.”

An hour later, Barty stood at the center of the dorm. He was dressed in one of Evan’s emerald colored suit, enchanted to fit his longer frame. His dark hair shiny and slicked back with pomade, and he wore expensive, sterling jewelry from his head to his hands.

Evan’s mouth dried as he stared at his roommate, a familiar, but slightly different burn slithering through his veins. He’d worked so hard to clean Barty up, but now, all he could think about was ruining him again.

“This shit sucks,” Barty grumbled, pulling at his collar.

Evan chuckled. “But, you’re gonna grin and bear it, Bat. Because you’re going to be…?”

Barty grimaced. “Popular?”

“RIGHT!” Evan slapped the desk, then pointed a ringed finger at Barty. “But not as popular as me.”

“We’ll see, Rosie.”

And by sixth year, they were madly in love. Unadulterated obsession. And joined by a mutual loathing of everyone else.

#rosekiller #slytherin skittles #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #rosekiller fanfiction #harry potter fandom #slytherin boys fanfiction #rosekiller headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #glinda x elphaba #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #evan x barty #evan and barty #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #marauders #marauders fanfiction

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teyvat-inks · 1 year ago

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like you

sia: hello again :3 lol i hope i didn't anger anyone with that angst. i've been under aventurine brainrot since january and can't help but fawn over the penacony trailer of him dancing with caelus and you can guess why i wrote this. also, this is inspired by never be like you by flume ft. kai. (i’d like to congratulate myself for writing a whole ass fic again)

content: college au. gn!reader x dance major!aventurine. dancae. mutual pining and jealousy. fluff with a tinge of angst if you squint. 3,017 words.

The Department of Dance holds an annual dance recital, showcasing the talents of their students every year as well as a way of promoting the department itself, a tradition that hasn’t been broken ever since. This academic year, they decided to rank the students according to their performance, thus spicing up things. The students feel thrilled to finally have the rankings announced on this very day and chatters fill the hallway as they wait for the chairwoman to pull down the curtain off the large bulletin board.

“A pleasant morning to every one of you, dear students. I’d like to congratulate each of you for successfully surviving the academic year,” The chairwoman smiles at the students, her gaze scanning the crowd to admire the anticipation written across their faces, “Ah, the look on your faces makes me feel more excited to finally reveal the exceptional students who took over this school year’s challenges.”

“Ready?” The chairwoman asks and the crowd cheers, she nods at them, pulling down the curtains to unveil the names on the bulletin board. She then walks over to Caelus, causing the students to erupt into a yell, “Congratulations, Caelus, you’ve done your very best and emerged as the top student this year.” The chairwoman offers him a handshake, handing him a certificate.

Aventurine snickers beside you and whispers into your ear playfully, his breath lightly tickling your ear and sending a shiver down your spine, “Looks like I’ve won our bet. Told ‘ya he’ll dominate the rankings.”

The screams of the crowd break you out of your thoughts and you see the chairwoman heading towards you and Aventurine’s spot. “Is she walking towards us?” You turn your head to take a glance behind you and see no one. Aventurine simply chuckles as the chairwoman stops in front of you, “This is quite a surprise.”

“Congratulations to you too, for placing second this year.” The chairwoman extends her hand to you, which you dumbfoundedly take as she hands you your hard-earned certificate.

“Thank you, Madam!” You give her the widest smile you have and bow. The crowd cheers once more as the chairwoman returns to her spot at the front.

The chairwoman clears her throat to get everyone’s attention, “With that, I’d like to formally announce the dance recital we’ll be holding next month.” You hold your breath, waiting for her to continue with the announcement, “Aside from the group performances, the top two outstanding students this year shall be responsible for the closing act together. Thus, they won’t be participating in any other performances. They will focus solely on creating a dance routine together without the help of others.”

The announcement elicits various reactions from the students, some gasp in surprise, some squeal in excitement, and some frown as their hopes of participating in the closing act get crushed. “Just like every other year, you are given the authority to choose the songs. Those are all for the announcements. I wish you all a pleasant day ahead!” She smiles then points at you and Caelus, “The two of you, come with me.”

The crowd whistles but all Aventurine hears is the loud thumping of his heartbeat. He feels something well up inside him, an unpleasant feeling that makes him scared and anxious. “Can you wait for me?” Aventurine hears your voice, breaking him out of his stupor.

“Definitely.” He nods, smiling as you follow the department chair into her office. He sees the silver-haired man shake your hand as he congratulates you for your hard work. He rolls his eyes at the sight.

Soon enough, the noise in the hallway immediately drowns from the sound of your mellifluous laughter. He raises his head from his phone and sees you walking with the silver hair. His eyes unconsciously roll again at the sight before him. Caelus catches the annoyed look on his face and widens his smile at you moreso, speaking loud enough for the blonde to overhear. “It seems that your friend has been waiting quite a long time.”

The emphasis on the word ‘friend’ makes him sick in the stomach.

You simply chuckle in response, “Aventurine! Were you bored?” You jog up to him with Caelus trailing behind. “You see, the chairwoman is looking forward to this year’s annual grand recital. I guess we’ll be heading home together less often in preparations.” A frown makes its way to your face, feeling slightly disappointed about the reduced time with him, “Did you make up your mind on which genre you’ll participate in?”

“I haven’t. No need to worry about it though.” He smiles at you. Caelus notices the fond look in the blonde’s eyes and decides to push his buttons more.

“I hope you don’t mind them spending most of their time with me the following weeks.” The silver hair smirks at him with a glint of mischief present in his gaze. The tone of his voice makes him feel humiliated for some unknown reason and he bites back the snarky remark he wants to say.

“But of course, I know the two of you will do absolutely well.” He gives him a tight-lipped smile as he grabs your arm, dragging you to his side. “If you’ll excuse us. We already made plans today.”

────────

Weeks pass and Aventurine feels slightly lonely—terribly lonely without you since you barely see each other due to your busy schedules. With the recital being just around the corner, the only times you get to be together are during stage rehearsals with everyone and the texts gradually become less frequent. Aventurine would have been fine if it was merely a summer break, but no. It has to be you spending most of your days with another man. He couldn’t say he’s miserable without you, nor be upset at you for not texting him back. He’s worried about your health too, do you not think of how distressed he might be upon the thought of you pushing yourself too hard?

Aventurine thinks he’s selfish for wanting your time all for himself, how can he keep you away from the world, not when you’re born to be on stage? And so, wanting your eyes to be focused on him only is simply wishful thinking. He can only hope for the best as you take over the stage with your charisma and talent.

He feels stupid. He feels stupid whenever he feels jealous as he thinks of how other people will surely fall for your charms on stage. Sleepless nights become more recurring as anxiety gnaws his flesh, trembling to himself as his insecurities get the best of him but he does not tell you. Aventurine notices the distance growing between the two of you, or is it simply all in his mind?

A loser, that’s what he thinks of himself.

────────

The sound of chimes echo inside the hall as the song plays and the crowd screams.

What I would do to take away this fear of being loved,

Allegiance to the pain.

“I can feel your man burning holes in my back from the sidelines,” Caelus whispers as he twirls you to face him, smirking after seeing the annoyed look in your eyes.

“Stop distracting me.” You retort back with a straight face and continue with the next figure.

Now I’m fucked up and I’m missing you.

Aventurine does not miss the exchange between you and the silver-haired male; The way Caelus smirked as you turned your back on the audience and the way you lightly pinched him on his side made his skin crawl. Oh, how much more he needs to endure, it’s barely half of the song and the two of you already look like you’re about to devour each other. The lyric hits him harder than it should.

As much as Aventurine is mesmerized with each movement you make with every flick of your arms and the beautiful expressions painting your face, his body shudders every time you roll your body against Caelus. Your movements are graceful and alluring, a force that continues to draw him in, however, the sight of your dance partner makes him all jittery, balling up his hands into fists whenever he gets too close to you for his comfort. He tries to calm down by reminding himself that those are merely steps and mean nothing more. He can tell you enjoyed having the spotlight to showcase your burning passion for dancing. He feels his heart swell with pride as you capture the audience with your mystique and grace. The sight of you dancing to such a sensual song with somebody else, however, fills him with rage, jealousy seething inside his chest and consuming his insides nonetheless. He feels pathetic and utterly a loser. The rest of the song passes with the two of you teasing each other to see who’ll get in each other’s skin first. To the audience, it looks like you’ve been outright flirting for approximately four minutes and couldn’t help but squeal each time you smirk at each other.

It’s safe to say that he’s beyond upset. The closing act did take a toll on him, the crowd did not help but add fuel to the fire raging inside his chest. The backstage has been nothing but annoying to him too. He keeps on hearing his fellow dancers fawn over your performance, “How do they not fall for each other on the spot?!”, “Just kiss already!”, “That was crazy! Did you see the way they looked at each other?!”

────────

After the curtain call, everyone gathers at the backstage. You and Caelus share a knowing glance before erupting into bursts of laughter. The other students snicker at your reactions, “They even have a secret communication. I’m out!” You scan your eyes among the students and notice how the particular blonde guy is out of sight.

“Hey, have you seen Aventurine?” The loudness of your voice falls on deafening silence as the students look at each other and shrug at you. “Ah, I see. Thank you!”

“I bet your man is sulking to himself, so make sure to kiss it better,” Caelus whispers and nudges his elbow against your waist.

“Oh, I hope your engineering boyfriend scolds you nonstop after I tell him of your overly devious plan of making him jealous!” You flick his forehead, “Don’t forget that we have known each other since high school.”

“Ouch!” He yelps in pain, rubbing the sore spot. “Dan Heng definitely won’t be mad at me, andddd, You’ll thank me later for sure.” He winks at you which causes you to scoff.

“I’ll make sure he does, though.” You give him a condescending smile, “See you around, Caelus.”

“Yeah, yeah, go find your man already.” Caelus pushes you away and you both chuckle at each other’s teasing attitude.

You rush through the crowd, muttering a series of “Excuse me.” and “I’m passing through.” as you make your way to the place you think Aventurine currently hides himself in. You sigh deeply, halting your steps as you settle into the uncrowded area, knocking on the dressing room for you and Caelus, “Aventurine, I know you’re there.”

Without waiting for a response, you open the door and find Aventurine lying down on the couch with an arm over his face. A sigh of relief washes over you, closing the door behind you as you step inside the quiet room. I hope nobody disturbs us. You slowly walk over to him, pushing his hips slightly backwards and take a seat beside his torso, “You weren’t there for the curtain call.”

He can imagine the frown on your pretty face from how you sounded, he simply sighs, “I’m tired, is all.”

“Let’s go home then,” You reach out to the arm covering his face.

He does not respond. The silence makes you feel all stuffy and overwhelmed. Exhaling deeply, you try to remove the arm off his face and see him with his eyes closed, “I know you’re awake,” You pout, poking his cheek.

“I wish to be alone.” He replies in a monotonous voice in contrast to the cheerful tone he usually has.

“If you truly wish to be alone, you wouldn’t be hiding yourself away here. This is technically my dressing room.” You chuckle at his excuse, “You were waiting for me.”

“Why’d you ask the obvious.” When he finally opens his eyes, he shifts his gaze to you and finds himself taken aback by how marvelous you are in your attire. He has told himself that he’d act distant and he feels his resolve crumble upon the sight of you frowning.

“I want to hear it from you,” You lie your head against his chest while sitting, wanting to feel the warmth of his body, “Is that too much to ask?”

Aventurine adjusts himself for you to settle more comfortably on his upper body, his hand moves up to caress the back of your head, “I was waiting for you. There, happy?” He feels your body vibrate against his as you chuckle. Oh, how he wishes for you to only act like this around him.

Ignoring the blonde’s snarky remark, “You were so cool earlier. I wish I was dancing with you.” You press your weight on him further. Aventurine unconsciously holds his breath upon hearing your words, unable to give you a response.

He clears his throat, shaking his head to snap himself out of the daze, “I wish I was dancing with you.”

Minutes of silence engulf the atmosphere, prompting you to get up, placing both of your arms on each side of his head, trapping his face between your hands, “Were you jealous?” You see the way his eyes widen at your blunt inquiry.

“What?” That is all Aventurine managed to utter, he takes a deep breath and feels nervous at the way you observe every fibre of his being at the moment, your intense gaze causes him to shiver.

“I asked if you were jealous.” You repeat with more conviction this time. The scrutiny in your gaze makes him fumble over his words.

“And...and if I was?” He admits, the worry finally displaying in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you.” Your words shock him to the core. That is far from what he expects to hear. His body freezes and his breathing hitches as he simply stares at you with doe-eyes, “Caelus was just really eager to put up a stunt...” He snaps out of the trance as he hears the name of the person he currently despises, and his brows visibly furrow.

“What for?” He asks in an annoyed tone and you wince.

“I guess his plan did work after all.” You let out a nervous chuckle, opting to answer his question indirectly.

“Ah, is that so?” Aventurine wraps his hands on both of your arms and removes them from his sides, sitting up in the process without letting go of the hold on your arms. He has this indescribable expression that causes your worry to spike up all the more.

“I hope you’re not mad.” You cast him a look of guilt. He feels himself gradually calming down upon hearing the truth behind the distasteful exchanges between the two of you during the closing act.

“Not anymore,” His thumbs rub soothing circles on your arms and you gladly welcome the warmth of his hand searing against your skin, “Not like I’m mad at you in the first place… I’m mad at myself rather.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I was so scared of feeling inferior to others when it comes to you.”

“I don’t want you to see me act brazen and uncool.” He breathes out.

“It’s not uncool to be jealous.” You raise your brows at him, “Knowing you, I know you’ll disguise your feelings into something else, there is no doubt about that. I’m glad you’re being honest with me right now.”

“I think you’ll have to thank your dance partner for that,” he rolls his eyes at the fact that Caelus actually helped him get out of his cowardice, “There’s no use being all sad and insecure when I could use the opportunity to tell you how I truly feel.”

“I like you a lot, I’ve been trying to swallow these feelings due to the fear of losing you.” Aventurine feels nervous as hell as he utters those words slowly, his hands holding your arms quivering slightly, “You know how all my past relationships failed, right? I didn’t want that to happen between us. I cannot bear the thought of you being with someone else.”

“That won’t happen. I’m very certain.” You smile at him reassuringly, “I love you for all you are, Aventurine. I’ll never get tired of you. I know how hard you’ve been pushing yourself to become better and I wish to be by your side as you overcome your fears.”

Aventurine frowns in response, brows furrowing, “I wanted to say the L word first. That’s very sneaky of you, darling.”

“Sorry, I want to monopolize you sooner. I couldn’t wait anymore.” His jaw drops upon hearing your words, his mouth agape. He is beyond shocked at how bold your statement was, leaving him flabbergasted. When did you get so audacious? Did Caelus do something to you during your practices? He is perplexed, to say the least.

“Why are you looking at me like that!” You lightly hit his chest, snapping him out of stupefied state.

“Since when did you learn to use such scandalous phrases?” His brows furrow at you accusingly.

“Caelus told me to say it to you once.” You close your eyes, admitting defeat.

“Perhaps I have one more thing to thank him for.” Aventurine finally composes himself, the usual playful attitude he sports is back. He gives you a sly grin, earning himself a treat of your blushing face, “May I?” You nod in response, closing your eyes as Aventurine leans forward, closing the gap between you.

Aventurine whispers against your lips as he pulls away to admire your face,

“I love you more.”

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #aventurine fluff #hsr fluff #aaaaa i love him smmmm #my pookiebear :')#sia.inks #sia.txt

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pleucas · 1 year ago

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Hey!! Happy New Year!! Your colors and composition are always such a treat to look at! And your art style is very inspiring! Would you mind sharing your fave artworks you created in 2023?

hey there! ty for sending in such a lovely ask :> i did a lot of stuff this year art-wise, much of which isn't fanart and thus not posted here, so i'll share some of that

starting with the current brainrot lol. i had a lot of fun doing this and i like how it turned out, probably my peak ngl

this one's from waaaaay early in the year, literally jan 2023, but i think it taught me a lot abt digital painting. i also had no reference and it was genuine hell to get through but it adds to the vibe i think ...

never posted this here, but here's a clip from a fun solo short film (~3min) i attempted

acrylic portrait, had a good time with my trusted flat brushes

thank you again for sending in an ask :0 wishing everyone a brilliant new year, and i hope for myself that i will continue my skk brainrot for '24 also! i already have a few paintings planned lol so. big things to come, another year of fun C:

#pleuart #pleucas #illustration #art #casasks

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fan-stuff-and-things · 6 months ago

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ASPCA AU Masterpost

Those of @cnwolf-brainrot's wonderful Weapon By Name discord have been humoring my ASPCA thread for over two weeks now. I figured it might be good to make a masterpost on here as well.

The basic gist of the AU:

Mystique is less discerning where she drops off her attacker at the beginning of Weapon By Name. Thus, Kurt finds himself at an ASPCA. Things proceed from there.

Initial Intake

Intake Part 1, Intake Part 2, Intake Part 3, First Checkup, Instructions Unclear and/or Intake Part 4, Irene Enters The Scene

Handling (Ordering here is extremely nebulous)

Getting Sleep, Brush Breakthrough, Upsetti Spaghetti, Harness, Equipment Rules, Princess Jellybean 1 (Silly Cat Lingo Edition), Crush Cage, Thoughts About Sensations

Handling (Bite Force Test):

Bite Force Test 1, Bite Force Test Aftermath Part 1, Bite Force Test Aftermath Part 2

Handling (Continued, still nebulous order)

Freak Out 1, Why Blankets, Tail Injection Test, Princess Jellybean and The Food Test, Help To Feet, Petting Flop 1, Petting Flop 2, Listening, New Facility Reflections, MRI Fun Time, MRI Fun Time Aftermath, Catnip Hints, Paralyzed By Fear

Handling (Terr(y)or series)

Terr(y)or, Terr(y)or Bath, Terr(y)or Exhaustion, Terr(y)or Aftermath, Muzzle Training

Handling (Continued, still nebulous order)

Sleep Reassurance, Nightmare Help (Sleep Reassurance Follow Up), Kris Cuddle 1, Good Boy Bath, Cuddle Freeze, Symbiotic Relationships, Holiday Gift, DNA Delay

Ending Options:

Oh Shit, This is a Child

Option 1, Prompt 1, Good Person

Nail Clipping

X-Men

X-Men On the Scene 1, Good With Animals

Mutant Sellers

A Conversation, Representative Appraisal, This One's Different, New Cub Introduction Aftermath, Thoughts On The New Kid, Clipping Wings, Playtime and Pecking Order, Breaking Food Thievery, Happy Fireplace, What's My Name, Warm Ecstasy, Playdate Attempt 1, Playdate Attempt 1 Part 2, New Leash, Startling Introduction, Nice Afternoon, Unexpected Reunion, Unexpected Camaraderie, Expected Separation, Boarding Fear, Discussions Of Logistics

Optional/Unknown canonicacy:

Tube Time 1, Rhetoric Conversation, Orientation Speech (Uncommentated), Orientation Speech (Commentated)

Rahne Conversation 1, Rahne Conversation 2, Rahne Encounter

Notes:

Not everything from the Discord will be transferred since not everything is transferable (generally not long enough, not mine, connected to things which aren't mine, etc).

There are events which have been written multiple times. This is not a mistake, I just like writing these scenes.

If any of these scenes contradict each other, that's okay. I'm just doing this for fun. Sometimes I ignore things I wrote before for one reason or another. This means you get to pick and choose too.

The timeline is loose. I've ordered it as best I can, but these aren't written in chronological order so it's hard to organize. Things may be retconned.

Most ending options are not compatible with one another (eg. anything below one bold ending section is not compatible with that below another bold ending section)

This may not be maintained.

General Content Warnings:

Dehumanization, manhandling, restraints, some illness, injury, non-consensual drug use (sedation)

#X-Men #XMen #WbN #Weapon By Name #Weapon By Name AU #My Contributions #ASPCA AU

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rodolfoparras · 2 years ago

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My brainrot from price is off the charts-

trans barrack bunny price?? Idk man I’m tired and the thought of him never being able to get release when he needs it because of other soldiers never going long enough to let him finish is stuck in my head fr

-⚰️

Thinking about barrack bunny price who takes such good care of his team all they wanna do is spoil him but he doesn’t let them do it properly, always wanting to control the situation thus they don’t allow him to finish properly.

Imagine Ghost down on his knees, head buried between Price’s legs and sucking on his clit while thrusting his fingers into Price’s slicked up hole. Price is continuously bucking his hips, heels burying into Ghost’s back while Price’s hand finds the nape of Ghost’s neck in an attempt to have some control of the situations.

But as soon as he does so Ghost decides to pull away and price is left gasping, hand reaching out for him while tears of frustration threaten to spill “why did you stop” he’d say between labored breathes while brushing the hair back from his face.

“You just can’t sit still can you? Guess I’ll just have to use some help” Ghost says only for you to sneak up on price (when did you even get there?) hands falling on his shoulder and pushing him into your embrace.

“Just relax love let us take care of you yeah?” You say as you take his hands and pull them to the side while kissing his neck to help him relax.

“It’s okay it’ll feel good I promise just let us do all the work here”

#alec answers #scribbles #John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #captain John price #captain John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #call of duty #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #Simon ghost Riley #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x male reader #dom male reader #sub male character #trans male character

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anisohtropy · 2 years ago

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Kavetham constellation brainrot

we, collectively, don't talk about Kaveh and Alhaitham's constellations enough.

Looking at Alhaitham's first, Vultur Volans was the roman term for the constellation Aquila (the eagle). But why are we referencing its symbolism as a vulture instead of an eagle? That feels deliberate even though everyone assumes Alhaitham's meant to be an eagle. I contend that it's meant to be three things, an eagle, a vulture, and a falcon (just like the interpretations of the real constellation.) The eagle is obviously the well-trodden path of the divine symbol of Zeus/Jupiter. But what we kind of ignore is that the eagle was said to hold onto Zeus's lightning bolts, y'know his method of smiting people. Vultures and falcons have similarly death-related divinity. In an ancient desert environment, vultures are very useful as scavengers for getting rid of bodies to prevent the spread of disease and the general unpleasantness of rotting flesh. Falcons are very clearly associated with Egyptian gods, but particularly Horus, who was famously born/created from the dismembered body parts of his father. Interesting.

Now let's look at Kaveh. Paradisaeidae refers to birds of paradise, which are a real kind of bird, but the name is based on a kind of bird from Persian myth called the Huma bird. These things are wild. They're supposedly always flying and never lands on the ground. Some myths depict them like phoenixes, burning up every few hundred years to be reborn from the ashes. It's supposed to bring good fortune to people it flies over or who touch it. In some traditions it cannot be caught alive and whoever kills it will die within 40 days. It overall symbolizes unreachable highness and divinity. Obviously, it's a fake bird, but it's theorized that it's based on bearded vultures (meaning if we interpret it as a real bird that's gained divine properties, it would've probably done so via literally starving itself out of an unwillingness to bring or benefit from harming another creature).

They're the same kind of bird, fundamentally, but associated with opposing kinds of divinity. One brings destruction and the other brings fortune. One is self-sustaining, comfortable as the right hand of the true divine, but it is outcast due to its nature to survive using tragedy that befalls other creatures. The other cannot ever come down to be a normal bird, it sacrifices itself on an altar of being able to continue to bring joy to people it will never be close to. Change, decay, and cold rationality vs burning compassion and altruism and perfection. The burning bird can never be a meal for the vulture, as its death means only ash, and it is thus the only kind of misfortune of another creature the vulture can truly understand and care about. The Huma can never understand why the eagle is content as a messenger for the gods, why the vulture feels no guilt for the death it scavenges, why the falcon is content with a normal life when it was born with the potential for unimaginable greatness. The eagle, vulture, and falcon cannot understand the Huma's lack of pride or its willingness to damage itself for the sake of humans who would catch and kill it in their ignorance.

Also relevant is the fact that Deshret is clearly meant to be an analog of Horus or Ra. Both are associated with falcons and the sun, and their eyes are both significant in mythology (Deshret is symbolized by an eye in a sun in the lore). Nabu Malikata also has a massive pattern of sacrifice and she famously made a daughter-bird that was destined to die in the cataclysm.

There's a lot to unpack here but by god someone's gotta do it. The reincarnation, entangled souls, two sides of a coin vibes are SO STRONG with them. They're soulmates and the constellations only reinforce this when you pull back the hood on them. AAAAAA

#genshin #genshin impact #kaveh #alhaitham #kavetham #haikaveh #king deshret #goddess of flowers #nabu malikata #personally my favorite alhaitham bird interpretation is the vulture #there's something so poetic about it #the vulture really captures his cynicism and relationship with wider society #and it contrasts with the whole phoenix thing kaveh's got going on #love my birdies fr

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jessamine-rose · 2 years ago

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⋆ Sunt Lacrimae Rerum ⋆

Of all devils, I didn’t think Lucifer would be the second to inspire his own one-shot. Fun fact, this idea was originally for my next set of WHB headcanons but it expanded into its own fic. Thanks for the brainrot and historical revelations, Lucifer ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Note:: Pre-release Lucifer, dacryphilia

♡ 0.8k words under the cut ♡

As Lucifer’s lover, you are a willing subject to his desires. The taste of your tears, the sight of your crying face, his influence over your body—all of it constitutes his forbidden fruit, one he can never get enough of.

Unfortunately, due to your roles in Hell, the two of you rarely have time for each other. Days can pass in Lucifer’s absence, in the company of other devils, in a haze of longing and insecurity. At times, you wonder: Does he miss you? How can you retain his favor in spirit?

The idea comes in the form of a memory. Once, while browsing the internet, you came across a photo of vintage “tear-catchers.” According to the description, the aesthetic vials were used by mourning Victorians; a few were even found in ancient Greek and Roman tombs. Granted, you’re still alive and your lover prefers fresh tears, but it would be a nice keepsake. A small part of you forever in his possession.

Thus begins your mission to prepare a special gift for Lucifer! First, you ask your friends to help you acquire a tear-catcher. After a few questions and odd looks, Ppyong brings you to the best craftsman in Gehenna. The glass-blower is also confused by your commission, but it doesn’t take long for them to create a personalized tear-catcher.

Next, you have to fill the vial with your own tears. This is achieved by watching sad movies, cutting onions, and following tutorials on how to cry. Now the final step is to present it to your beloved and witness his reaction~

⋆ ✦ ⋆

“Oh, what’s this?”

As expected, the tear-catcher is a perfect fit for Lucifer. Gilt, black enamel, and scarlet beads form a serpentine design. A ruby, sculpted in the shape of a familiar horn, serves as the stopper. Most curious are the contents, a clear liquid of higher viscosity than water.

On his desk rests an opened box and untied ribbons. Carefully, you place the gift in his hands and offer a bright smile.

“Do you like it? It was made just for you!”

He accepts it, eyes alight with curiosity. “This fluid feels familiar. Is this…?”

Your smile widens. “Yup, these are my tears! You’re probably familiar with tear-catchers, right? I commissioned a craftsman to make one, then I used it every time I cried. What do you think?”

A product of your blood, sweat, and tears—minus the blood.

For a few seconds, Lucifer just stares at the gift. Black nails carefully grip the bottle, tilting it ever so slightly to make the tears flow. You remain in front of his desk, shifting your stance.

Finally, he looks up. Gold eyes make contact with yours, bright with amusement.

“It’s pretty,” he comments. “And I can only imagine the effort it took to fill it with your own tears.”

He likes it! “You’re welcome!”

“But I do wonder,” he continues. He sets down the bottle, curiosity overtaking his features. “You do know that tear-catchers are a hoax, yes?”

…What?

He takes your silence as an answer. “No such item existed in the Victorian era or any historical period. In reality, what humans call ‘tear-catchers’ are actually perfume bottles. One of this type would typically be disposed of once empty.”

“I…I see.” Your smile falters, pride giving way to chagrin. “Of course, someone like you would’ve immediately recognized it if they were legit. Ahh now everyone’s reactions make sense.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A soft laugh interrupts your thoughts.

When you look up, the tear-catcher is off the desk. Lucifer holds it up to the light, a soft smile making its way to his face.

“Nonetheless, I appreciate the gesture,” he tells you. His eyes are blown wide, light against darkness. “And your pride was absolutely delicious, so do remain satisfied with your present. It will be of great comfort to me during our time apart.”

“I…all right!” Your cheeks remain flushed but no longer from embarrassment. “That is good to hear. At least my time wasn’t wasted.”

“Besides.” He rises from his desk, leaning closer to caress your cheek. “I prefer seeing your tears on your face. Won’t you indulge me again, ______?”

⋆ BONUS ⋆

______: SEVEN DAYS!!

Satan: What are they talking about?

Ppyong: It’s not that big of a deal—

Sitri: We wanted to honor your dedication—

______: That’s how long you stood by and watched me cry into a fake antique! Do you know how difficult it was to deposit my tears into such a tiny bottle?!

♡

Still hornii?? Read my other WHB fics <3

To think that I learned the truth of the tear-catcher because of an R18 game….y’all can also thank @diodellet for inspiring this idea during a chat about Genshin *cough* I highly recommend her Lyney fic *cough*

Among the devils we haven’t met yet, Lucifer piqued my interest by virtue of looking so pretty. I can’t wait to learn more about him~

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @pinkaditty @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @obeythisass @karinyawhb22 @yanmaresu @jazeswhbvault @devilmen-collector

#whb lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #whb lucifer x reader #whb x reader #whb #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad x reader #what in “hell” is bad?#g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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reserved-system · 1 year ago

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Boatboys Splatoon AU

[REPOST] Moved this from another blog to the main. If you saw the original, no you didn't! /silly

Boat boys am I right chat? Our Splatoon 3 hyperfixation is back :P

Rambles under cut. ^^

The brainrot is so real, where do I even begin? Okay okay for starters, Etho is a sanitized Octoling, not he wasn't always sanitized. He was one of the Octoling's that went through the Octo Expansion levels to try to reach the Promise Land but ultimately he failed and was converted. Cut to after the events of the Octo Expansion and all the Octolings are freed and returned back to the surface.

Etho... Didn't quite adjust to living back on the surface and let's just say, being brainwashed for so long left a lasting impact. It took him YEARS before he even thought about touching turf war again because of the trauma he's been through.

Joel on the other hand is your run of the mill Inkling. He holds down a steady job at a pottery studio, participates in turf wars whenever he gets the chance, maintains his S+ rank and is always the first to invite his friends out to join him in a match.

Eventually after Etho came to terms with his trauma he started competing in turf wars and after becoming comfortable with his surrounding, started competing in ranked matches as well. That's how Joel met him.

Joel was confused at first, seeing an Octoling on the other team with blue-green skin and the way his ink maintained a green tinge around the edges despite the enemy team color being purple. That didn't stop Etho from completely mopping the floor with him during Splat Zones though. After the match was over with, Joel tried his best to meet up with the mysterious Octoling but by the time both teams were packing up to leave the site, Etho was no where to be found. Joel asked he's team mates about him but they didn't have much to say about him, said he was quiet and didn't talk much outside of greetings and light conversation but Joel continued the hunt.

A few weeks would go by before their paths would cross again, in the form of a Tower Control match. This time the two were paired up on the same team. Joel tried to make conversation with Etho but he only gave quick or simple answers, sometimes responding with a shrug or two. During the match Etho shredded the opposing team from afar with his Z+F Splat Charger while Joel made quick work of them, rushing in with his Custom Splattershot JR.

After the match was finished, Joel expected Etho to disappear as soon as it was over with but was surprised to see the Octoling had stuck around to congratulate him on how well was doing on the Tower. They talked some more before finally having to part ways, with Etho stating he had to catch a train. They said their final goodbyes and before officially parting ways, Joel slipped Etho a piece of paper.

Etho didn't open the slip of paper until he settled in on his train, inside was Joel's shell-phone number hurried written out in his own ink. Thus, sparking a beautiful friendship.

#reserved art #my art #fanart #hermitcraft fanart #hermitcraft #Res. Splatoon AU #splatoon art #splatoon #ethoslab fanart #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans fanart #Octoling Etho #Inkling Joel

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hypostatic-oath · 2 years ago

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OVERSEER BRAINROT

(This is like. Me rambling. This is poorly explained and my grasp on the canon lore is iffy but this is just how I imagine/will write the Overseer - aka the player - in SAGAU. This perspective will likely change as I understand more of the lore, but for now, here's some crumbs.)

Overseer whose role is, more than simply observing, to keep the canon going.

Experiencing the story, and that includes collecting characters and learning of their lore, exploring the world, building our teapot, etc is our reward for playing our role - and our role is to push the story forward. It doesn't progress without us. We're not Teyvat's creator, but we are the one making each of our worlds move (we're the mover we're the shaker we're the headline maker). If we did not take action, the twins never would've been separated - they would've stayed forever in that choosing screen, held permanently in that moment. If we had not chosen to walk forward and touch the statue, the Traveler would never have gotten the Anemo elemental powers. Would've never helped Dvalin. Signora would've never taken Venti's gnosis. Rex Lapis would never have "died". Every single other major event wouldn't happen.

The player is the being that makes the Canon Events happen - not directly, but through making sure that the story progresses. (Miguel O'Hara theme plays in the background.) And this can happen at whichever speed we decide.

Now, while the fact that we are the ones making the story go by could be used to argue that the Overseer would be the one to make the passage of time, that is not quite true. The days in Teyvat do not depend on the story progression. Months can pass before those two Fatui in Mondstadt (I love them) have any new gossip to share about current events, or they can pass through five new topics in a span of days, depending on how fast the player runs through the quests. Time is not the deciding factor in these characters' fates. It doesn't matter how long it's been since Signora died - Viktor (the Fatui guy at the Cathedral) will not be stationed at his new post unless the player finishes his comission. Teppei's condition won't worsen with time, either. If we don't continue the quest, we can stand next to him for weeks in game before he passes. Thus, I propose that the Overseer is more of a god of Fate (not to mention, the god of time position is taken). To add to this, the things we use to pull for characters are called Fates. Intertwined Fates, Acquaint Fates, both circle back to the same idea. Hangouts can be seen as a sort of exploration of this power - with the ability to choose one of five or six fates for that character (if only Character Quests had that too). It is, however, one of the few times we have control over which version of the story is told. Otherwise, we are mostly the energy that moves it along.

It's not just that it's a canon event and we cannot interfere - it's that it is literally our purpose to make sure it happens, even if we don't like it. We're here to witness and progress the story - and bad things can happen in stories, regardless of what the characters in it want. So right now I am having some Villain Overseer brainrot, not because they want to be evil on purpose, but because some character decides to pull a Miles Morales and say "I'mma do my own thing" and mess up the story's flow. For someone trying to change the course of the story, the force that pushes events forward is obviously Not Good. I can see Fontaine characters seeing the Traveler's arrival as an ill omen, a sign that the prophecy will come true. They're divided, because on one hand, the Traveler has a good reputation, someone helpful, kind, a hero. But the Overseer's attention signifies that events will inevitably unfold. So Lyney invites them to be part of a show. Furina threatens to arrest the Traveler. Navia asks them out for tea. As long as they can keep the Overseer's attention on other matters, the event they dread won't happen. (I won't talk much abt Neuvillette rn becayse spoilers)

Enter eventual Arlechinno boss fight (it hasn't happened yet, but I do hope we get one) - she's the one who tries to fight the Traveler head on, to personally put a stop to it once and for all. Perhaps the Overseer has no ill will, but that doesn't matter. Not when their presence means that the clock is ticking faster and faster every day.

Now for a more lighthearted thought, Isekai'd Overseer who doesn't really have a concept of urgency. No important event will occur without them present, so they have no qualms in arriving on the day after the scheduled date, confident that as long as it is between 18:00 - 23:00 the reservation will still be placed and people will be at their seats as if it was always meant to be that way.

So the Overseer walks into a bar, with a face too fresh for someone who hasn't slept in what the people of Teyvat percieve to have been months, just coming in from the Spiral Abyss, and asks the bartender where their friends are.

"I don't know? Master Kaeya usually shows up at this hour, but the rest of your usual group is probably tending to their affairs."

"Odd. They were supposed to be here by now. We had a big dinner planned." The person in front of him, who Charles is more and more sure definitely looks somewhat off in a way he can't quite pinpoint, seems confused. "There was a reservation and everything. In Kaeya's name, I believe."

"Well, I'm sorry, but the last reservation Master Kaeya placed here was a month ago."

"Again, weird. He said he was going to place one. Oh, well. When the others get here, just let them know I'll be on one of the big tables upstairs, alright? And you can put everything on my tab."

#i would very much like to know whether the traveler/paimon/player has ties to celestia #but judging by the fact that neuvillette is chill with us I'd say that if we do then the dragon sovereigns dont know #Speaking of the sovereigns I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THEM #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin au #genshin impact sagau #cube.rambles #this is all over the place but I wanted to get my overseer brainrot going

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

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Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

#dd:dne #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fan fiction #spiderman fanfic #avengers fan fiction #peter parker angst #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction #marvel au #peter parker x reader #spiderman angst #andrew garfield fanfic #spiderman andrew garfield #spiderman fic #spiderman au

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robsterskellington · 8 months ago

Text

I wrote a bit more. Continued from this:

(Basically, what would happen if Wei Wuxian woke up in the Burial Mounds after being thrown down by Wen Chao, but all of his memories from before then were intact- meaning from long after he and Lan Wangji got married)

It was strange, reclaiming the Lotus Pier with Lan Wangji at his side, but Wei Wuxian couldn't deny that he felt calmer for it. He didn't know what he was going to do about their feelings- Lan Wangji never had the guts to talk to him personally, and while he took Wei Wuxian's first kiss, it was only because he saw an opportunity while he was blindfolded. But the problem now was that if Wei Wuxian confessed now, it might be seen as insincere.

Hell, so much he could change would look strange; he'd try and be kinder towards Jin Zixuan, especially knowing now that he truly was his Shijie's one true love, he'd be more respectful of Jiang Cheng's duties and not shun him... but some things had already changed, and it made him unbelievably happy. Wen Ning had been so happy to see Wei Wuxian, and he couldn't resist hugging him- Wei Wuxian didn't want his Ghost General by his side, he wanted this man to live as good a life as possible.

Last time, the problem had been that not all of the Wens who survived the Sunshot Campaign were willing to discard their family name. This time was different- Wei Wuxian never hid the fact that he was protecting the Wens in Yiling and they heard him out, before ultimately agreeing that it was more beneficial to them to leave Qishan behind them, for their lives and futures weren't worth discarding. Thus, Wen Ning was now Jiang Ning, just as many others had changed their family name to match their new Clans.

Lan Wangji informed Wei Wuxian about A-yuan, and how he was now Lan Yuan, until they could come up with a good curtesy name. It took everything in Wei Wuxian to keep his mouth shut, for once.

They stepped into the main hall, and Wei Wuxian felt so much agony in his heart. Jiang Cheng looked at him and went to reach for him, but Wei Wuxian whispered, "Madam Yu was always right about me, wasn't she? Our Clan fell, she and Uncle Jiang died... and it was all my fault. I know that 'sorry' won't make up for all the lives lost, but I don't know what else to do or say to apologise or make amends."

"Mom said a lot of things, Wei Wuxian. And I never did enough to fight for you, so you don't need to apologise." Wei Wuxian gave him a funny look- Jiang Cheng *always* argued against Madam Yu when she punished Wei Wuxian, stating that it wasn't fair that he got beaten or scolded so frequently. He obviously couldn't take any punishment for Wei Wuxian, because he never did anything that warranted a punishment. Jiang Cheng sighed, "Just... you mentioned not being able to go down a normal path. Why not?"

"Way to change the subject," He chuckled weakly before indicating for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji to sit with him. That was when he finally told the truth, himself: "I can't cultivate anymore. I don't have a Golden Core."

Both of them looked stunned as Wei Wuxian proved it, unsheathing Suibian and revealing that he couldn't use it with spiritual energy, it just wasn't possible. In a panic, Lan Wangji grabbed Wei Wuxian and tried to give him his own spiritual energy, only to see that there truly was no Golden Core to put it in. He started to tremble, and Wei Wuxian gently took his hand and held it. When Lan Wangji didn't pull away, Wei Wuxian gently squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng looked like he would throw up, but then blurted, "Baoshan Sanren! Can't we go to her, and tell her the truth?!"

"No. That was the biggest lie I've ever told you. Here's the truth: *I have no idea where Baoshan Sanren resides*. Even if I did, just because my mother was Cangse Sanren, there was no guarantees that she would help me." He looked down and took a shuddering breath, "The reason I was willing to trust Wen Qing before, was because she was a famous doctor who had a brilliant theory-"

"It's *Jiang* Qing, actually." The men looked up to see the aforementioned doctor, exhausted but grinning when she saw Wei Wuxian alive, wearing the purple robes of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. "Though *do* keep flattering me, and after, you need food and some fucking sleep. You look dreadful."

"Wow, thanks a lot. Bitch." They both laughed, but Wei Wuxian knew he had to be completely serious. He looked at Jiang Cheng's horrified face and sighed, "Jiang Qing had theorised that someone could have their Golden Core removed and transferred into another person. When you lost yours, I knew what I had to do to secure your future."

Lan Wangji gasped softly and Jiang Cheng's eyes filled with tears, as Wei Wuxian moved his robes aside to reveal the scar and stitching on his abdomen. To prove the point further, he held out Suibian to Jiang Cheng, who unsheathed it and watched it radiate with a red aura. This was what Wei Wuxian had done, for him. And he still asked how he could possibly make up for everything? He'd already sacrificed his future, his powers, and he knew that people would fear him for using the dark arts. "...why..? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't risk you refusing." That was the final truth of the matter. Jiang Cheng knew that if Wei Wuxian had suggested it before, he absolutely wouldn't have accepted. How could something be so selfish yet selfless at the same time? He looked at the incision, and silently asked Wei Wuxian, who shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it. All I'll say is that I can't gain a Golden Core by traditional methods anymore. However..." he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a shining Golden Core.

Lan Wangji's eyes widened, "Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core. You stole it. Then..." they looked at Jiang Qing who took it and examined it, "Is it possible?"

"I'll have to test it to see. Like transferring organs or blood, some Golden Cores may not be compatible with certain people. It's unfortunately very complicated. It was lucky to have worked the first time, there was a less than fifty percent chance of it working." Jiang Qing missed how Jiang Cheng nearly passed out from that knowledge, knowing that one of his siblings nearly died so he could have the means to use spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian kept hope in his heart. If this worked, the Golden Core would repell the resentful energy inside him, and he could go back to how it was before. If it failed, then he'd simply have to be more careful. He'd do whatever he could to benefit the cultivation world, just as he'd done before with his Spirit Lure Flags and knowledge of monsters. He just hoped that he didn't screw up as badly. Thinking about all the mistakes he'd made, even though not all were his fault, made him depressed beyond words.

Jiang Qing put the Golden Core to his chest, but it refused to go in- when they put Wei Wuxian's Golden Core into Jiang Cheng, it had immediately sank into his chest and settled, like it belonged there. Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core was just as stubborn as the man himself had been, and Jiang Qing shook her head solemnly, "I'm sorry, Wei Wuxian."

"Can't he take his back?" Wei Wuxian was about to tell Jiang Cheng to shut up, but he continued, "I'll find another way. This isn't fair on him, he's done more than enough for me and my family!"

"No. Golden Core's are incredibly strong, but even they feel strain. It probably wouldn't survive the strain of being torn out of a body again, especially when you would have to stay conscious the entire time it's removed." She put the Golden Core in a pouch and sighed, "Wei Wuxian stayed awake for nearly three days when we removed his."

"So... Wei Ying is stuck on this path?" Jiang Qing nodded to Lan Wangji, who didn't even know what to do or say. He'd hoped that if Wei Wuxian had come to Guzu with him, Lan Wangji could expell the resentful energy and guide him back to a normal path, then it could go back to how things should be. But there was nothing anyone in the world could do, now.

Wei Wuxian sighed then shrugged, "Fine, then." Lan Wangji flinched but Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, "If I'm stuck on this dark and narrow path, I'll find a way to stabilise it. I already know a lot of things I can use this power for, ways in which I can help people. So I will. Obviously I'll need help from time to time, and if there's any chance of me losing control of my temperament, then I definitely need you guys."

"As if you could get rid of us so easily, Wei Wuxian." Jiang Cheng finally smiled, albeit weakly. "This is your home. Will you still be going to Guzu on occasion once this is over?"

"If Lan Zhan wants me to." He turned to look at Lan Wangji and spoke softly, "I know I annoyed you in the past, and I understand if... if you hate me, but... please don't give up on me, Lan Zhan."

"...never." His voice had been so soft, that Wei Wuxian tilted his head, and Lan Wangji looked into his eyes, "I've never hated you. I will never give up on you. You're still *you*, even with this. I don't like that this path was chosen for you, because that's exactly what happened, isn't it?"

At last, everyone understood why Wei Wuxian was the only one to master Demonic Cultivation. A Golden Core rejects resentment, while someone who once cultivated would have a much stronger mind, body and soul; Wei Wuxian had the perfect form, but no Golden Core to protect him, making him the only one truly capable of harnessing this power. But he didn't choose it- he only accepted it when it was his only option, because dying should never have been in consideration.

Wei Wuxian smiled weakly and nodded, "Yeah. I even said before, after our first class together, that just being curious wasn't enough for me to want to throw away everything I'd worked for. I goofed off a lot, but I really did take everything I was taught seriously. I loved being able to use spiritual energy, to protect people, to use weapons at their full potential." He looked down, "Don't get me wrong, I find this path interesting, and power is always going to be addictive, but I didn't choose it."

Lan Wangji hated seeing Wei Wuxian upset, and spoke softly, "You're not alone. And we'll figure something out."

"That's enough of all that." They turned to see Jiang Yanli walk in, with a tray holding five bowls of soup, "I'm sorry for eavesdropping... I didn't know if I even had a right to say anything."

"It saves me from explaining things to you later, Shijie." Wei Wuxian had to stop himself from running into her arms, hugging her and crying. Instead, he took the soup she provided, and tilted his head at Lan Wangji's portion, "Is it a different colour?"

"I heard the Lan Clan aren't very good with spice, so I made sure not to add any. I didn't for yours either, Doctor Qing." Wei Wuxian grinned, loving how thoughtful she was.

Lan Wangji looked at the soup and sipped it, his face lighting up a little and he couldn't stop himself from smiling a little, "This is wonderful, thank you, Lady Jiang."

They all ate, none of them talking any more, just enjoying some comfort food in silence. Wei Wuxian felt like his very soul had healed, surrounded by the people who meant a lot to him. He'd asked about Jiang Ning, and Jiang Yanli assured him that she'd already given him some food, and that they could all take the time to rest.

This also gave time for Wei Wuxian to think about his next move. He'd already managed to do one thing differently: when Jin Zixuan had scolded Jiang Yanli during what had been dubbed 'the soup incident', instead of beating up the peacock, Wei Wuxian had pulled him aside and stated very bluntly that just because he felt nothing for Jiang Yanli, that didn't meant she felt nothing for him.

He'd been blunt and harsh with his words: "You only think you hate her because your marriage was *arranged*. If Madam Jin and Madam Yu hadn't decided before the two of you were even born that you'd get married, I'd bet my very soul that the two of you would have gotten along and maybe fallen in love on your own!" Jin Zixuan didn't know what to say, and he couldn't dispute his words. Wei Wuxian had remained calm and spoke softly, "Now you understand why Clan Leader Jiang and I were angry at you when we were kids. She adored you. Look, obviously I have no right to keep you away from her, but for now, both of you need some space. Besides, we have more pressing matters now, don't we?"

Jin Zixuan had indeed given Jiang Yanli some space, but it became obvious that it wasn't his choice- she wouldn't even glance his way anymore, and he realised just how badly he'd messed up. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were furious with him, but both of them focused on making her smile again, rather than focusing their anger on the asshole who made her cry.

Wei Wuxian snapped out of it when Lan Wangji looked at him with concern, but he just smiled. The smile quickly faded when he remembered what his next move was the last time- the creation of the Yin Tiger Tally. Knowing what it could lead to, he didn't want to create it, however it truly was the one weapon able to help them fight with a chance in the war. At least this time, he could ask someone else's opinion, "Lan Zhan. You remember that sword I found, back in the Xuanwu of Slaughter's cave?"

"Mn. It was a strange sword, you were holding onto it when we killed the monster. What of it?" He was curious, but a little worried about where this was going.

"It was full of resentful energy from those who died, eaten alive by the tortoise, but it also had the Sin of Murder within it. It's likely that if melted and reforged, it would make a very powerful spiritual weapon. It has more power than even I ever will, and that boost of strength could be just what we need for winning this war." The issue was how risky it would be. After all, literally anyone could use the Yin Tiger Tally, Jin Guangyao proved that before he died in the future- his brain hated using past tense to refer to a future event, but obviously that was what his life had come to.

It would absolutely give him the strength to win, but he also had to remember that no matter how skilled he was, it was impossible to control that amount of corpses alone. Even during the fall of Nightless City, Wei Wuxian had put everything into summoning zombies to just attack the Wens, but couldn't stop the zombies from also attacking their own men. It was counterproductive, and just senseless killing. Perhaps he could try and simply lay siege to Nightless City on his own, but if he was overwhelmed, he'd die again. That was if the people who wanted revenge wouldn't just come and attack anyway, getting in the way.

"*No*." He blinked and looked up at Lan Wangji, his expression stoney and stern, "Even with your powers, there's no guarantee that it wouldn't harm *you*. If there's no other way, then I'll help you. But please, consider this a last resort only." His expression softened a little when he saw a look of powerlessness in Wei Wuxian's eyes, "You're strong, Wei Ying. But you're not invincible, and I don't want you getting hurt again. Losing you once, it-"

He cut himself off, but he'd already been heard. His ears went red, and Wei Wuxian hid his smile. Obviously the in character thing to do right now would be to tease him for his slip up, but unfortunately, this mind of his had memories of tender moments and a heart filled with love for this person. So, Wei Wuxian instead took Lan Wangji's hands and looked into his beautiful golden eyes, "Okay. I trust your words, because you've already proven that you're just looking out for me. You won't lose me again, and I'll push that idea into the back of my mind. If there's no other choice, I'll create the weapon. If we can win without it, then that's that."

Lan Wangji found himself unable to pull away, or call Wei Wuxian shameless again. He just squeezed the hands in his, and looked into Wei Wuxian's cloudy grey eyes before stating sternly, "You need to sleep. You're exhausted. We have time to rest, you need to take it." He wasn't quite sure what came over him, but he grabbed Wei Wuxian, scooping him into his arms and looking at Jiang Cheng, "Bedroom?"

Jiang Cheng just stuttered the direction of Wei Wuxian's bedroom and watched Lan Wangji run off with his older brother in a bridal carry, "...what the fuck just happened?"

Jiang Qing smirked and Jiang Yanli tilted her head, "That explains why A-xian never spoke of any interest in any woman. Though I wonder why he never told us he was interested in Second Master Lan? Did he think we wouldn't accept him?"

They didn't actually do anything, which both relieved and disappointed Wei Wuxian- relieved because he didn't want to rush their relationship and risk ruining anything, but disappointed because he *never* got to be this close to his husband at this point in their lives. The Wen Clan had actually taken good care of the Lotus Pier, so his old bedroom was still intact and similar to how it had been before, thankfully. Lan Wangji laid him in bed, and just sat on the chair beside him, "Sleep. I'll watch over you, and wake you if anything happens."

Wei Wuxian *was* beyond exhausted. But he desired to be closer to Lan Wangji, it was just really difficult. They were still kids, in a way. He yawned, but couldn't settle. Lan Wangji could see that it wasn't on purpose, it was like Wei Wuxian's consciousness was stubbornly keeping him up, when Wei Wuxian himself just wanted a good night's sleep. He took Wangji from his back and slowly started to play the song he'd written, the song Wei Wuxian used to communicate that he was still alive in the Burial Mounds.

He played wangxian, humming slightly to his own melody, and watched as Wei Wuxian slowly stopped fidgeting, and finally relaxed, even letting out little snores. Lan Wangji stopped playing, and watched over him slightly, gently moving Wei Wuxian's hair out of his face, before whispering, "I honestly thought you would tell me that you aren't mine to lose. I'm glad you didn't, because that would have been wrong. I want to protect you, Wei Ying. Let me. *Please*."

There was no response, Wei Wuxian was too busy dreaming, and Lan Wangji just sighed with relief. Things would be okay, he'd make sure of it.

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