#i could technically pay it but i have had so many big expenses lately like one after another after another | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spacelazarwolf · 1 year ago

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tldr scroll down to see my new plants.

this is a departure from my usual posts, it's a bit more like hybrid blog/diary entry, idk, but here u go.

for those of y'all who don't know, one of my hobbies is plants. i like to collect them propagate them, trade them, etc. and my favorite type of plant is aroids, particularly philodendrons. it was a very difficult hobby to maintain after the plant boom during lockdown caused plant prices to skyrocket, so for the past year or two i haven't relaly been buying that many new plants, and when i have it's just been from garden centers or local nurseries.

yesterday, however, i went to an aroid show where there was a vendor from south america who had brought a bunch of specimens people could purchase. they're a family owned business that focuses on protection and preservation of biodiversity and native plant species, and all their plants are ethically sourced, usually grown in their own greenhouses from propagations instead of taking them from their natural habitat and selling them. so obviously i had to check them out.

but this is where i sort of pause while writing this post, because i get really nervous talking about spending money, especially on here. i've frequently asked for help when i needed assistance getting my account out of the red or paying late rent, so part of me feels like it would be insulting to post about things i spend money on that aren't the essentials. but my plants make me happy. they give me something to take care of. they brighten up my apartment. they give me something to be excited about. so i'm just gonna tell you about my new plants.

about a month ago when i left my old church job, they gave me a gift card that the choir had pitched in for. i couldn't get cash out, use it for rent, or transfer it to my bank account, so i decided it would be my hobby fund. when i found out about the aroid show, i set aside a portion of that fund for plants because i knew that the specimens at the show would be significantly less expensive than anything i could find online or in local shops, and it might be one of the only chances i would ever have to actually buy some of my wishlist plants.

this is a philodendron esmeraldense. this is what they look like when the leaves get bigger and more mature. this is one i hadn't seen before so it wasn't on my wishlist, but when i was checking the vendors' stock last week i loved how it looked. i'm gonna put it on a moss pole and let it climb. the leaves probably won't ever get as big as the one in the linked photo, but i'm still excited to watch it grow.

this is a terrible picture but this is a philodendron patriciae. they get super long. this one’s putting out like two new leaves. it’s also a climber. the ripples in the leaves get more intense as it matures, so paired with the very long leaves it looks so cool. i can't wait to grow this one bigger.

philodendron pastazanum. it’s a crawler so i’ll be getting a window box to put it in so it has space to grow across the substrate. this has been on my list for a while but i couldn’t find it anywhere. the big heart leaves are just gorgeous.

this is a philodendron melanochrysum. the leaves can get huge. technically i already have a smaller one, but this one was just so gorgeous. i will probably end up planting them together on one moss pole. it’s one of my favorite plants, i am a sucker for velvety leaves. you can see one of the older leaves is getting ready to drop, and i think i'm going to try to make a project out of it.

philodendron tortum. it feels like the kind of plant that would have been growing while the dinos were around. it's very reminiscent of a fern, but it is also a climber. i had one like two years ago but i had to sell it to pay some bills, so i'm happy to have it back in my collection.

the one in the center. anthurium veitchii, or king anthurium. this one was kind of an impulse buy. i don’t usually do anthurium but it was cheap and looked incredibly cool. they look even cooler when they get mature.

what is a king without his queen. anthurium warocqueanum, or queen anthurium. i wasn't sure if i wanted to tackle this one bc it's notoriously hard to take care of, but it was very cheap so i took the plunge. these also get super long, and the velvety shiny leaves are so pretty.

monstera obliqua peru. this was a unicorn plant. it is difficult to find in the wild, grows slowly, and is hard to propagate, so it was mostly just passed from collector to collector until the plant boom during covid. nodes of this plant, literally just bits of stem you would cross your fingers and hope would root and grow leaves, were going for a thousand dollars and a single leaf up to three thousand dollars a year or two ago. and now i have a very full plant for only forty bucks. 2020 me is screaming. this specimen looks a little squished from the trek from south america to the midwest, but when it acclimates to its new environment, it's going to look so cool. this is another plant that has dino vibes.

and finally the grand finale. philodendron spiritus sancti. i honestly can't believe i'm typing this. this plant is considered to be one of the rarest philodendrons in the world - if not the rarest. it only grows in one place, and there are reportedly only 10 known plants left in the wild because of a combination of poaching and the excessive clearing of their habitat. it was another one that pretty much only existed in high level (wealthy) collections for a very long time. now, more specimens of this plant exist in private collections than in the wild, which makes ownership of this plant very emotional for me. this is a plant that was going for upwards of $14k for large specimens at the height of the plant boom. people were scrambling to get their hands on that one plant that no one could get, the highest prize, a bragging point. no one cared if they were getting it ethically. someone even stole a cutting from a botanical garden just to sell it.

this plant was not on my wishlist because i never thought i would even get to see in person, let alone hold, let alone own. and yet yesterday i picked it up, held it in my hands, saw the two digit price tag, and decided yeah. i think it's only fair that the money a bunch of presbyterians gave me should go to adding a plant called a "spiritus sancti" to my jewish plant collection.

it still doesn't feel real. i can just look over at my plant cabinet, and there it is. a spiritus sancti. bc for me it was never about having a big name plant in my collection. it was never about bragging or showing off or just checking names off a list of things i was supposed to want if i was into houseplants. this plant still exists because botanists and aroid enthusiasts have worked tirelessly to conserve it. and having this little piece of history and the world in my little plant cabinet feels more like a responsibility to me than a prize.

so yeah. those are my new plants. i'm excited to see them grow and still a little starstruck that i was even able to bring home the last two.

#plant collection

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thefloatingstone · 1 year ago

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Do you think anime today are made with too many safety nets? Like gone are the days where something experimental or risky (risky in terms of something not seen before)

Yes but I think it's also a ratio thing.

In the entirety of the 80s, 256 were released. In 2022 ALONE 106 anime were released. There is a VAST amount more anime released today, and as a result, a good majority of it is extremely "safe" from a business point of view.

However I think the biggest culprit for this is simply one of money. 1980s Japan was going through an INSANE economic boom. On top of this, the "Straight to VHS" market hit the scene in 1983, which enabled anime to be able to show things which were technically illegal for Japanese broadcasting. Because straight to video anime were not technically broadcasted. This is why OVA from this time period tend to be as hyper-violent and sexual as they are. It was the first time anime actually had the medium in which it could show those things and this new freedom had many anime studios go to an extreme just to explore these new possibilities.

These days, anime animators are paid less than what's considered the legal minimum wage in Japan. But because anime is such a huge profit for Japan, the Japanese government overlooks the breaking of worker's rights. Animators in japan have not had a wage increase since the late 90s, and many of the artists who work on animation make about $400 to $500 a month. While also being expected to live in Tokyo (one of the most expensive cities in the world to live in) and essentially work 24/7 to make deadline. It's reaching a point where, because the people funding anime do NOT want to spend more money but their animators are actively dying from being overworked, have started outsourcing the animation part of anime to overseas studios like the Philippines because they don't have to pay as much. Or their NEW fun little tactic which is to hire amatuer animators off twitter from young kids who REALLY want to work in anime as their dream who are easier to exploit and misuse because they are young, inexperienced, passionate and naive. WATCH OUT FOR THIS. It's becoming more common.

Most larger anime shows also know their main money won't come from broadcast or even blu-ray sales (although Blu-ray sales are EXTREMELY important as far as an anime's success goes) the REAL money comes from merchandise sales or a push of sales in gacha games that are tied to the anime in question. Basically the way Pokemon works at this point. Where the games only exist to justify the existence of merchandise.

So the producers of anime want shows that they know will translate well into merchandise sales. The big merchandise target which these companies like tend to be men aged 18 - 25 who don't yet have families of their own. Because they tend to have a lot more disposable income. However, as things have changed and shows like Sailor Moon have proven, women are also willing to spend large amounts of money on merch. But due to the social structure of Japan, statistically women are less likely to spend the same amount of money because society pressures them more to work towards starting families and focusing their money on building households. (something Japan itself puts extreme pressure on especially with their declining birthrate but even before this just through their traditional family values).

This is why if you compare the amount of shoujo and Josei anime that come out per year versus the amount of Shounen and Seinen anime, it's not even CLOSE in numbers. And what shows MIGHT appeal to women just as men tend to still have cute girls in them to push figurine sales.

It's created an extremely hostile environment where artists simply do not have the means to actually be creative because they are being bled dry for no money.

BUT, because of the sheer number of anime that release per year, it IS more likely to have hidden gems come out made by people who genuinely have a great passion for what they make. It's just that before these would be the anime that outshines everybody else, but because there is just SO MUCH shovelware anime, it can be a little harder to see in the crowd of 5000 isekai and gacha anime.

The industry is not in a great place right now in terms of a creative environment. But it doesn't mean quality isn't there. It's just the quality anime won't be the "biggest" anime of the season or the most talked about or the one you see the most merch for.

Except for Mob Psycho 100. MP100 is GENUINELY one of the best anime to come out in the last 10 years. It uses experimental mixed media in its animation, the animation itself is top tier, and its story and characters are extremely unique for the anime medium.

ALSO! there is an anime coming out for one of my favourite current running manga "Kaiju No. 8". Monster Number 8 is part of a new breed of manga that's part of a branch of Shounen Jump called "Jump+". Shounen Jump has for DECADES demanded its manga writers provide a chapter PER WEEK for publishing. Similarly to anime, this bleeds manga artists dry and leaves them often with debilitating health conditions due to overwork (I have a manga by Satoshi Kon where he talks about getting Jaundice while making the comic due to overwork).

Jump+ on the otherhand works differently. The manga do NOT update per week but have larger gaps between updates with short breaks sometimes by the artists.

AND GUESS WHAT???

IT MEANS THE QUALITY OF THE MANGA HAVE GONE UP!

WHAT A SHOCK!

Anyway apparently Kaiju No. 8 is getting an anime adaptation and I am extremely excited.

(He's upset because he pissed through his nipples on the street)

Seriously tho. Kaiju No. 8 is about a 30 something year old dude who works as "monster clean up" which is basically the guys who have to mop up the guts of whatever Kaiju the heroes blew up that week.

until he accidentally becomes exposed to something which gives him the ability to shapeshift into a monster. He reapplies to the Kaiju-fighting division being one year under the cut-off age, an entrance exam he has failed multiple times in the past, but gets in this time (but barely iirc. It's been a while since I read the beginning. (of course if the defense division ever sees him in his monster form they will kill him which is probably not the smartest career move but I mean WHAT ELSE IS HE SUPPOSED TO DO?)

AND THEN THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP HAPPENS.

Where his hero buddies who find out he is also a kaiju have to help him BOTH fight the monsters attacking the city while ALSO keeping his powers a secret from the OTHER officers in the division. Specifically his best friend who then pushes himself to be BETTER at the defense thing specifically so his friend (who's named Kafka by the way because of course) won't transform to protect him and potentially get himself killed by the defense division.

It's so good. Please... I am weak for power of friendship stories....

Everybody protects each other and care about each other so much...

I just hope the anime can get something good out, because already from the sneak peaks we've seen, the quality seems to be the same level of mid most major anime have these days. But hey. At least it's not CG.

#C-Puff answers #long post

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purplesurveys · 2 years ago

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1586

How are you doing today? Pretty swell. I’m on leave Monday to Wednesday without knowing Thursday is a holiday, so I’m feeling great that I only have to work Friday ;) Not having the usual feeling of doom I get on Sunday evenings is apparently enough.

What is the last song you listened to in a car? All Day by RM and Tablo. I’ve been streaming Indigo nonstop since it came out; it’s almost ridiculous how well-made the album is from start to finish. Not always do you come across a body of art that strongly translates as a labor of love - and not just love in the case of Indigo but of blood, sweat, and tears as well.

Do you like prefer apple cider warm or cold? I don’t even drink that. When did you last feel misunderstood? Haven’t felt that way in a while.

Have you ever visited The Louvre or would you like to? I’d love to but I’ve seen how crowded it can get so tbh I’d be just as fine and content going to less-populated museums.

Have you ever accidentally locked yourself out of your place of residence? Well, not by accident. But there were a handful of afternoons in grade school where I was dropped off by the bus but there had been nobody to open the door (the helper was out). It was whatever and I just hung by the carport.

Do you remember your favorite songs as a kid? Had to have been Disney soundtracks and such. I wasn’t into music until I was around 10, when I started getting into Beyoncé.

Do you currently feel calm? I am mostly calm yeah, but my stomach is being a bitch and is keeping me from feeling at my 100%. Probably from the amount of coffee I had today + the massive six-course meal I practically wolfed down at lunch.

When did you last lace up a pair of shoes? Last Friday when I wore Chucks to work.

What's your go to comfort meal? Spicy tuna salad and sushi.

Do you enjoy cloud watching? I’m not so much an observer of clouds. I prefer stars.

Do you currently have any candles lit? Nope.

If applicable, what's your favorite sports team? I don’t like watching sports.

How many cardigans do you own? I used to have this cute black one but I have no idea where it went. I last wore it December of last year then it just kinda...disappeared lol which is frustrating.

How much is too much for clothes? (I am mad at myself over purchasing a $30 cardigan lol) I actually don’t mind shelling out for clothes sometimes since you’re paying for quality. That said, the only time I’d actually react is if I see the price of some designer brands for, say, a white t-shirt that I could buy the exact same look of at some department store.

How soon do you normally decorate for holidays? The only thing we put up is a Christmas tree and we do that either late October or early November.

Are there any important things happening this week? Nah, I’m leaving work behind this week and am feeling like a free fucking woman. Only agenda on my book is to catch up on going to museums, which I’m going to start on tomorrow.

Do you know anyone who is terrified of dogs? Yes, I know a handful of people who are.

What scent was the last soap you used? Just the plain/basic smell of soap. How old were you when you made your first big purchase? I was 23 when I bought my current phone. I will put up the disclaimer that my dad’s credit card was initially used to make the transaction haha but I pay him every two weeks, so it’s technically under my expense still.

What last made you angry? Just a bunch of drivers and pedestrians being stupid during our drive up to Antipolo earlier.

What's a color you think is underrated? Idk if there’s any I would call that.

What are you usually doing when midnight comes around and you can't sleep? Watch YouTube videos or play In the Seom until my eyelids start feeling heavy.

What is your favorite way to eat rice? (white, steamed, fried, brown, sweetened...) Steamed and white. What color is the top you're wearing? Red with white print.

When did you last laugh so hard you cried? Lmfao, last night. My dad had been retelling a HILARIOUS story to my sister (which he had already shared with me that morning), and since I knew how the story was gonna go I ended up in stitches while he was talking, which made him laugh too. Then we’d both try to calm down, he’d start talking again, I’d laugh again, he’d laugh too, and that entire bit just happened like five more times until I had tears running down my eyes. Poor sister literally never got to hear the end of the story because at the end of it all the entire dining table was just laughing too.

What's your favorite horror movie? The Shining.

What's your favorite and least favorite fast food restaurant? Favorite would be McDonald’s, Jollibee, and KFC. Least fave is Burger King...I don’t hate their food but the menu is just a little boring. It’s my least favorite only in the way that it’d never really be my first choice.

How many pictures can you see in the room you're in? No pictures here in the dining room.

When did you last sign your signature? Last Tuesday.

What cover do you think is better than the original song? Paramore’s cover of Drake’s Passionfruit.

Are you currently listening to music? Yeah dude. Indigo.

What do your favorite pair of pajamas look like? It has a purple checkers pattern; and instead of pajama pants, the bottoms are shorts. The top is free-size so it looks a bit big – but cozy – on me.

What is something you've been working on? Being a better and a more patient leader. And improving on task delegation. Still focused on work after all this time, seriously? Hahaha.

What's something that excites you about the future? Growing and learning through the experiences I’ll inevitably be gaining. I don’t wanna mount big expectations on my shoulders, so for me making the most of what I have and where I am is enough for now.

How often do you drink smoothies? Never.

What's a TV show you have gotten into recently? I started watching The Golden Girls last night and the first couple of episodes were hilarious.

Have you ever had to have a tooth cut out? Uhhh not cut out but pulled out, yeah. I’ve had that happen twice.

When did you last rush for something? Last Friday when I, to nobody’s surprise, waited for the last possible minute to get up before work.

How many blankets do you own? Three.

Have you drank enough water today? Sure.

Do you prefer apple pie or pecan pie? Not much of a pie person but if I had those two choices right in front me I’d head towards the pecan one in a heartbeat. What color takes up most of your wardrobe? Black.

What makes you feel alive? Accomplishing something, making people smile, being around my friends, getting strength from Bangtan.

Who is your last missed call from? Can’t remember. I usually pick up my calls now though since they could always be related to work and I don’t want anyone ending up complaining about me.

Do you have any unusual pet peeves? Picky eaters.

What is a food you think is nasty that most people enjoy? Grapes.

Would you rather never be sick again or be rich? Be rich.

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere concept #male yandere x you #tw incest #tw non con

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bubbleteaimagines · 4 years ago

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age gap

tony stark oneshot

tony x you

swearing, large age gap

in this day and age it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

but it was.

y/n l/n and tony stark became trending worldwide, every gossip magazine and newspaper out for whatever information they could get about your relationship.

the relationship by the way, that had a 28 year age gap.

you were 20 and tony was turning 48, though it seemed neither of you cared as much as the world did.

you thought it was perfectly normal, seeing as your parents were years apart and tony simply didn’t give a damn.

‘screw the tabloids’ he always said, but sometimes it wasn’t that easy.

at home, you were able to relax with the idea of your age gap as it was just the two of you being y/n and tony.

but out in public, it was an entirely different deal.

whispers, stares, pictures. you name it and people did it, not even caring or respecting your private time with tony when you went out.

you didn’t expect for it to bother you as much as it did. you thought that maybe with tony by your side you could block out the whispers and the hateful stares but it was nearly impossible as it happened almost everywhere you went.

even if you went grocery shopping for god’s sake, someone still had something negative to say.

of course, tony defended you as much as he could. he tried to shield you from the hateful words and articles but sometimes he wasn’t enough.

sometimes, it did get to you and soon you realized you didn’t know how much more you could take.

you loved tony, but after being constantly called a gold digger and his sugar baby, you began to doubt yourself, and your relationship.

were you really as manipulative as the papers said? were you really just with tony for his money?

of course not. deep down you knew that with or without money you loved tony stark. and he loved you, but it didn’t help that he also loved to spoil you and he was paying almost all of your college tuition.

even though you insisted he didn’t, he did anyways. he reassured you after countless protest that that was just something he did; he took care of everyone he loved.

eventually you were forced to settle with the idea. but it never stopped the running thoughts in your head.

am i really that bad as everyone says?

it was during a christmas party that tony was holding that you finally snapped.

tony had gone all out; getting the most expensive decorations and inviting all of the richest people he knew.

and of course, since it was tony, he also got the best alcohol money could buy, and unfortunately you weren’t allowed to drink a single drop.

all night, you had stood awkwardly by tony’s side in your pretty red dress, holding a cup full of water and laughing uncomfortably as you were forced to listen to drunk rich people tell unamusing stories.

by now, the music was blasting, night had fallen, and you were pretty sure you were only one not drunk at the party, minus tony and steve.

the elegant cup that you pretended to drink from held nothing expect for water and it was only another painful reminder that you were probably the youngest one at the party.

out of respect, tony decided he wasn’t going to drink either but that did nothing to ease you. If anything, you wished that he had been drinking so that he wouldn’t remember the embarrassing conversation you were having with some of the housewives he invited.

“so, y/n, tell me,” a woman name martha kalnins gushed as she sat on one of tony’s luxurious couches, obviously drunk from one of the many glasses of wine she had had. “Is Tony really as amazing in bed as everyone says he is?”

a round of laugher from the other housewives around you made you shift uncomfortably, thankful the dark room didn’t show the frown radiating off of you.

“uh… i uh,” you sounded like a child, struggling to answer her question and you laughed uncomfortably as to not show how disturbed you really were. you shared a look with tony.

“i mean … h-he’s great at everything, honestly. it’s tony stark we’re talking about,” you answered unsurely, and tony squeezed your thigh as the women laughed again.

“oh, i guess you’re right,” martha slurred and took another drink. “that tony is a catch. hell, if i had been twenty years younger like you i would’ve snatched him up, too. with that tight little body of yours it’s no wonder he’s so eager to pay your bills.”

another round of laughter and you could feel tony beginning to tense up beside you. now, it was your turn to squeeze his leg and you turned back to the women with a tight smile.

“oh, tony doesn’t pay my bills,” you tried to assure them but they waved it off.

“oh nonsense. why else would you be with a man that’s almost 50?” another woman asked you and you threw her a sharp glare.

you were starting to heat up, not appreciating their little jabs at your relationship.

“why am i with him?” you pulled out your cold tone and scoffed at her. “i don’t know— maybe because i love him?” you said a little angrily.

how dare they insinuate anything else than the truth: you loved tony and you didn’t give a damn about his age.

the woman snorted. “yeah. that’s what i told myself when i first met howie,” she threw a glance to an older man in the corner. “sure does make the sex a lot easier when you think you love them.”

you couldn’t stop your blood from boiling.

“how dare you!”

in an instant, you were up and out of your seat, the woman’s smile long gone as you angrily got in her face.

“y/n!” tony tried to stop you but you were sick of it. you were sick of it all; the jokes, the jabs, the little comments that nobody had any business making on your relationship.

you were done.

“how dare you talk about my relationship like that when you know nothing about us!” you fumed and suddenly you had everyone’s attention.

“who are you come into our house and as our guest disrespect us? you don’t know a thing about tony and i. not a single damn thing. you don’t know about all of the late nights we have, all of the laughs we share and all of the movies we watch. you don’t know about all the things we have in common besides sex and you damn well don’t know anything about me! you don’t, because if you did then you’d know i’m not with him for the money, or the fame, or whatever else you think is associated with tony stark. i’m not here for any of that. i’m here for him, so why don’t you get your head out of your ass and realize that just because you spread your legs for money, that doesn’t mean the rest of us do!”

by the time you finished you were panting and everyone was in complete shock. it was silent, and the woman in front of you looked as if she didn’t know what the hell to do.

no one did as you stood with your chest moving heavily, your well deserved rant coming off of your consciousness.

you huffed.

“well then. seeing as i’m only 20, i guess it’s past my bedtime,” you rolled your eyes and looked at the clock, noticing it was 1AM.

“i’ll see you all … whenever. goodnight.”

you did a dramatic turn and then proceeded to exit tony stark style. leaving a big commotion behind you and no doubt people that would spread your words everywhere the next morning.

that would be another problem you would have to worry about, but right now you focused on just sleeping the entire night away.

sighing, you changed out of your dress into some shorts and swiftly got under the covers.

you closed your eyes, and you tried to let sleep come to you but it was almost impossible as you were painfully aware the spot next to you was empty.

tony hadn’t come to bed yet and it was like your body refused to let you rest until he did.

sighing again, you peeled your eyes open again and decided to stare up at the blank ceiling, waiting for tony to come to bed.

when he finally did, it was around 3AM in the morning but even the dark you could see his shit-eating grin.

“well, that was quite the performance tonight, miss l/n,” tony teased almost immediately and you groaned.

“sorry if i ruined your party,” you apologized to tony and buried your face in a pillow. “i just got so mad that people kept insinuating i was only with you for that that i just … i just snapped.” you explained.

tony was still grinning and you felt the bed dip as he gently slid in beside you.

“don’t worry about it. i’d say that was more entertaining than mrs. mccoy getting so drunk she admitted she was cheating with garden boy,” tony laughed and you snorted.

“great. i was the biggest scandal of the night,” you sighed.

“biggest one of the century, actually. how long do you think it’s gonna take for people to start talking about it?”

“i’d say it’ll make an appearance in the morning. some magazine talking about how tony stark’s sugar baby finally blew her fuse,” you yawned and tony chuckled.

“yeah well, at lease i don’t have to worry about if it’s true now.”

“worry if what’s true?”

“that you love me,” he said quietly.

you peered up at him in the dark.

“tony? what? of course i love you,” you frowned. you felt the pillow shift as tony shook his head.

“no, yeah, i know,” he said. “but now i don’t have to worry about if it’s tony stark you’re attracted to, or iron man.”

“clearly i wouldn’t be attracted to a piece of metal, tony,” you both rolled your eyes simultaneously.

“yeah, no shit,” tony sighed. “but i mean like— i don’t have to worry about which personality you’re attracted to. now i know for sure that it’s me that you want, and not just my name. or my fortune.”

“well, technically both are still up from grabs,” you smirked in the dark. “haven’t signed a pre-nup yet.”

“oh but you definitely will now,” tony scoffed, but there was humor behind both of your words.

you both found comfort in knowing that you only wanted each other, and not for the reasons everyone else thought.

you weren’t with tony for the money. and he wasn’t with you for the sex.

you both genuinely and honestly loved each other, and now you knew that no ridiculous tabloid or paper was ever gonna make you doubt that again.

#tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark #iron man x reader #iron man x you #iron man #tony stark one shot

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br-disaster · 4 years ago

Text

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast, the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer, they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely.

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow. It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago.

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie. And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints. A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did? also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would.

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer. He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader.

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion:

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

#this ended up more like meta than I intended #but Huaisang deserves all the praise #also it's super long #but he has many outfits ok #nie huaisang #nie brothers #cql #mdzs #i spent an unhealthy amount of time doing this #why? huaisang deserved a post too #same thing I said about the other post stands please tell me if I said something disrespectful

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!human!fem!reader where she’s Bella’s younger sister, and when the Volturi come for Renesmee, the Cullens tell her to stay with Charlie, since they had a bunch of vampires with them plus the Volturi showing up, it’d be bad with a human in the mix. Being related to Bella (haha) she doesn’t listen, choosing to hide behind a tree to try to see how Bella and her family are (she was worried what the Volturi would do). I’m sure everyone would realize there’s a human there, and Aro sends Demetri to check it out, who finds Y/n, and quickly realizes she’s his mate. Ooo that would be nerve racking to Bella because she’d see Dem speed her younger sister over to where all the Volturi are. I’m sure she’d have to go back to Volterra with them, and she’d be a little freaked out. Awhhh it’d be so cute to see them bond, and on New Year’s, she wants to watch the ball drop (because it’s a tradition), and when it’s the New Year, she kisses Dem for the first time!

Little Red Riding Hood Part 1 ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 2: The Big Bad Wolf

Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have

Part 4: And They Lived Happily Ever After

Warnings: None, just Aro being a manipulative little meanie

Words: 4793

Summary: Against her sister’s advice, Y/N Swan sets off on a one woman mission to protect her family, unaware of the price she will have to pay to do so.

One of the worst habits you had was wondering the house late at night when you shouldn’t be. It wasn’t your fault really, insomnia didn’t have an easy cure and your sleeping medication was…well, when you woke up in the morning you felt drunk, they weren’t really something you enjoyed using. It had been an innocent quest really, a simple mission – get a warm mug of milk to go back to bed with. If anything, you were perfectly in the right to go wandering your own home. It should have been safe, even at 3:24AM.

Riley Biers shouldn’t have been there.

But he was.

In your living room.

And so were you.

Until you weren’t.

Alice had seen it all in advance of course and whisked you out of that room so fast the venom hadn’t even had time to properly enter your system after Riley bit down. Charlie hadn’t even been woken from his slumber by the time you were whisked into the depths of the forest to a nice little clearing where you could scream to your hearts content and nobody would hear you. Carlisle had saved you that night, sucking the venom out as quickly as Riley had injected it. The night that had followed was a surreal, whistle stop tour of the vampire world and its laws, laws you were technically breaking since you knew about the Cullen’s now. Of course, that meant you knew about the newborn army to, but you decided to stay out of that one. Some things however…some things demanded your attention, and whether you were human or not you simply had to at least see your family would be okay.

After a whirlwind few months your sister was saved, married and knocked up. Come Christmas, your hybrid niece was looking to be nine years old and your father was suspicious but none the wiser to the world you knew all too much about. You had carefully hidden your bitemark with polo necks, a sudden and bizarre choice your father had commented on once but quickly dismissed after you spouted some fashion facts Alice had prepared you with – fashion and Charlie did not mix and he dropped that conversation faster than one might drop a saucepan on fire. Of course, Renesmee (who you had created a variety of nicknames for just to tease Bella because otherwise you…well you’d have to call her Renesmee, and that was just cruel) was unique in every way, and unique and unknown equated to threat and danger in many minds, many minds the Cullen’s had slowly swayed over the few weeks since Alice had informed them of their impending death sentence.

You hadn’t been allowed to visit since the nomads and covens had started arriving, and though you understood the reason it didn’t make it any easier to know your sister, your niece, your extended family, were all in danger and you weren’t getting to spend what might be their last moments with them. It was only made worse when Bella and Edward had brought your father tickets to go fishing out of state, and tried to do the same to you. You loved your TV shows, truly you did, so for them to somehow get you backstage passes for Supernatural of all things was…immense. What you hated the most was how tempted you were to go. Who would say no to a long stay in a five star hotel, all expenses paid for and any bills you accumulated paid for by a Cullen, bottomless credit card?

When Edward and Bella had dropped you at the airport, part of you really had been ready to say goodbye to them, but as you stood in line for the gate the heavy weight of guilt settled in your gut and wouldn’t stop squirming. You had to turn back, you had to go. Nobody knew when the Volturi were going to land exactly, but you knew the day, and with Charlie and Sue gone for their fishing trip you would have nobody to stop you doing the incredibly dumb thing you had set your heart on. The taxi fare home had been extortionate but you couldn’t exactly have called anyone for a lift could you? You called the hotel and told them you were cancelling your stay, having to push your backstage pass for the Supernatural set deep into the depths of your bag to manage the grief of missing that opportunity, but family came first.

A restless night’s sleep later and you were dressing for the snow. It had fell fast and thick since Christmas day, so you had to set out early if you were going to get anywhere fast. Bella was your sister and you loved one another dearly, so of course you had spoken all about the upcoming battle, her hopes and her fears, her plans.

“There’s a clearing to the North of the house, we’re hoping if we engage them there it’ll be far enough away from people to stop anyone else getting involved by accident.”

Clearing to the North of the Cullen residence, right. With your Grandfather’s old compass you had set out, bundled in your thickest woollen coat and decked out the whole nine yards with scarves and hats and gloves. The air was freezing, nipping harshly at your exposed skin till your ears and nose were tinged red. Sniffling, you trudged through the layers of snow, stumbling over your own feet once or twice in the hereditary Swan way before regaining your footing and ploughing on. The trees seemed never-ending, an identical blanket of white on each and every one that towered above you, encroaching from all sides and making you lose all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the compass in your hand you could have easily gotten lost in the winter wonderland, but a break in the treeline finally made an appearance. Numb as your extremities were, you forced your tired body to cooperate and propelled yourself forward, stumbling towards a tree you might be able to see past.

The forest was eerily silent, not a single scuttling animal or twittering bird to be found today, and the clearing itself was so large and the covens spread so far apart you could barely see a thing either, not with your dull, human eyes. A swarm of black gave away the Volturi, the mismatch of beiges and neutral tones on the left letting you know your family had yet to be taken down. A sigh of relief escaped you and you clapped a hand over your mouth in alarm, heart skipping a beat in your chest. Vampires had extremely sensitive hearing, there was no way somebody hadn’t heard you, and if it wasn’t the sigh that gave you away then it would surely have been the sound of mitten slapping flesh. Pressing into the bark you peeked around the tree trunk, heart hammering in your chest now as you tried to establish what was happening. You couldn’t hear a thing, could barely see. Ness sat atop Jacob, his russet fur glinting in the bright white of the snow-covered landscape.

“It all looks so terribly interesting from this distance does it not?” the smooth voice was right by your ear, and you screamed louder than you ever had in your life. Whirling around you shrunk back from the vibrantly red eyes of an admittedly handsome man, his expression devoid of any emotion as he looked you over. He had boxed you in against the tree trunk, his cloak billowing about him, the shiny, golden ‘V’ hanging around his throat making your chest constrict. Volturi, he was a Volturi guard. With wide eyes you stood in a silent stare-off, unable to decipher the emotions flickering through his eyes as he stood a step toward you.

“Stay away from me!” you cried, cringing back into the bark behind you. His head tilted.

“You came to spy and did not expect there would be consequences?” he asked, not stopping till he was almost on top of you. Your breath hitched. He had the most gorgeous looking face but you could identify the features of a killer in it. The glowing red irises didn’t look at you with malice however, more…confusion. His sharp, pearl white teeth weren’t bared to take your throat out but carefully sealed away behind plush lips. You could almost believe he didn’t intend on hurting you if his hands weren’t still reaching for you.

“You’re here to butcher my family, I had to…” you trailed off, because in reality what could you do? What could you possible say to this vampire that wouldn’t make him laugh? You were human, you stood no chance. He had paused, waiting patiently for your answer, yet when you gave him none he proceeded to pick you up like you weighed next to nothing, your feet being whisked out of the numbing snow to dangle over his arm. His eyes never left yours.

“Hold tight little one.” He suggested, his voice devoid of any emotion. If there had been any part of him you might have been able to appeal to before it was gone now, hidden behind a stony exterior. The world blurred around you and the jarring movement thew you off balance as he set you on your feet again, your body tilting in a way it shouldn’t till he was forced to grab you and hold you steady. Nausea rose quickly in the back of your throat, the world still spinning and blurring your eyes. You could see the edges of black cloaks swirling in your vision as you fought back the urge to be sick. There was no way to hide your anxiety now, your heart hammering away for all to hear, your breathing too quick to be normal.

“You seem to have distressed our dear friends, Demetri.” The smooth voice was sickeningly sweet, entirely false to your ears. Trying to take a steadying breath, you forced yourself to look up at the three imposing figures before you. A giant stood behind them, two young twins to their right. The three were quite obvious to you form the stories you’d heard, and your shudder had nothing to do with the cold this time. Demetri, the man holding you, had yet to let go of your waist, and his hands felt strangely soothing, their firm grip something that felt grounding and reliable despite your terror in this moment.

“An intruder who has already seen too much, end her now as yet another of the Cullen’s mistakes.” The blonde sneered. You swallowed, mind spinning. You were dead either way, right?

“My niece is not a mistake.” You retorted. You were proud that your voice didn’t waver once, though the grip on your waist tightened slightly and you weren’t sure if it was to warn you or scold you. Caius hissed, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare.

“Your niece? May I, my dear?” Aro stood before you, taller than you had expected with hair almost as long as yours. You knew it wasn’t a request, but you found yourself desperate either way to avoid touching him and shrank back from his extended hand, straight into Demetri’s chest. His hand was hesitant, but it lifted from your waist to lightly skim down your arm, his lips close to your hairline as he whispered, “Do as you are told now, little one.”

He carefully extended your hand for you, noting the tremor in it once more as Aro’s eyes flickered between you. He removed your mitten with a flourish, your hand immediately clenching and unclenching at the sudden blast of arctic cold it had previously been shrouded from. Aro’s skin was somehow even colder and your shivering grew in intensity. Very vaguely, you could hear Bella shouting something, but the distance was so great and the clearing so vast it swallowed the sound. His eyes flickered over yours, completely pinning you to the spot, and then they looked past you to whatever was happening behind you. Demetri was blocking your view when you tried to see what Aro was seeing.

“Sweet Y/N, your bravery in coming here is applaudable. I can only hope our own dear ones are as dedicated to our family as you are to yours.” Aro sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice. You flinched, knowing the next words from his mouth would most likely be spelling out your death sentence. The sound of the breeze was all that filled your ears for a moment, the anxiety and anticipation growing in your stomach making it difficult to hold onto the meagre breakfast you’d forced yourself to eat. It occurred to you in that moment that this would be your final moments with your family, your last chance to say goodbye, and they could hear it. Squaring your shoulders, you held your head high.

“I came because I love them, and I don’t regret that. You can’t destroy my family, their witnesses are proof of that. My niece was created out of love and the legacy of love they would leave behind will be far too great for you to overcome. So go ahead and do what you have to to me, if I can die with half their grace then I know I’ve done them proud.” You clenched your fists at your side, prepared for the bite that Aro would deliver, maybe Demetri. Caius looked most upset by your little speech, hissing quietly and looking prepared to spring towards you. More muffled noise from behind you let you know your family had heard, even if you couldn’t hear their goodbyes you felt them in your heart.

Aro’s head tilted slightly, his expression cold, and then his mouth opened slightly and he was leaning forward. You closed your eyes, flinching as you braced for the pain of a bite you knew well, but instead you felt cold air, and when your eyes snapped open you were shielded from Aro’s bite by a tall, lean body, one strong arm curled backward to keep you caged against his spine. Demetri.

“Master…please.” He extended his hand, ripping off his glove with his teeth as he went. Aro eagerly took his hand, probably as desperate as you were to know why one of his most treasured guard would so openly defy him. Some of the Volturi’s people were starting to whisper behind them but a lethal look (from the giant of a man you guessed was Felix from Bella’s stories) silenced them. His grip on your hip tightened for a moment, the silence deafening before Aro chuckled.

“Ahhh…così si forma un legame eterno.” he murmured. You scrunched your nose, having no idea what he meant since you didn’t speak Italian. When Demetri carefully moved aside, giving Aro as slim a chance to access you as he possibly could, and your heart twisted with gratitude that he would even bother to try. You swallowed, doing your best to keep your fear from your face.

“Aro.” Caius growled. Aro held his hand up, forcing his brother to heel even if he couldn’t placate him.

“You are intriguing, Y/N. The Volturi do not offer second chances, but for the sake of our dear Demetri we are willing to bend the rules just this once,” Aro smiled, a shark-like grin that made your stomach sink, “You have a choice before you. Your family are quite innocent in regards to the accusation against your niece, for that we will deliver no justice-“ there was some uncomfortable shuffling behind him Aro dutifully ignored, “-however you are a law broken, yet another example of the Cullen’s inability to guard our secret from humans. An example must be made, you must be dealt with appropriately. Either you turn here, now, or you come with us, and we turn you.”

It was a Hobson’s choice. What Aro was really asking was how dead did you want to be? Dead dead? Or undead dead? If you let Carlisle bite you now in the clearing there were so many unpredictable nomads around. Bite your wrist and it would take forever for the venom to reach your heart and really start the change, you would be tortured right in front of them, a punishment for them all no doubt. Bite your throat and blood would spill, blood so many of those nomads wouldn’t think twice about feeding from in any other situation. So, what did you do? Did you choose the option where you ended up far from home but safe? Or did you choose the option that did not guarantee your safety but did guarantee your family would suffer watching you suffer?

For the first time since you entered the snow you felt warm, warm with so many eyes on you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to will your mind to work faster to outwit the vampire before you. In the end, you could only think of a compromise.

“My father’s not home right now. If I chose to come with you, could I have time to pack some clothes?” your voice was slightly weak, your heart aching in your chest. Your father would never see you again, he’d have to believe you just ran off, that you were the same flighty woman your mother was. Bella might never get a chance to see you again either, an eternity of knowing you would never lose your sister, but that you would never be reunited. It was painful however you spun it. Aro’s smile only widened, knowing he had successfully backed you into a corner.

“But of course! Such a…noble, sacrifice, must be rewarded. You have earned that much my dear. Demetri will take you now.” Aro gave his tracker a nod and Demetri seemed to relax, swiftly turning on his heel to march you across the snow. His hand was gentle on your arm, but the speed he set almost had you running to keep up, like he was desperate to get you out of there lest Aro change his mind. As you were escorted out of the clearing, you dared a single glance back at Bella, her face the very picture of horror as Edward held her back. All you could manage was a weak smile as your sister disappeared from view for what was possible the last time.

Once you were far enough into the trees that the clearing was out of sight for you, Demetri suddenly came to a stop, exhaling sharply and dropping his hand from your arm. It ran through his hair but barely ruffled it. Whatever he was thinking, you weren’t about to be privy to it as he slung you across his back with ease. You gasped, clinging on tight.

“Hey! What are you doing!” you protested.

“Taking you to your home. You are slower than I am.” He retorted, his voice quiet and his grip on your thighs firm. You held on tight, heart rabbiting in your chest.

“You don’t even know where I live.” You squeaked. Demetri chuckled, the sound vibrating through your gut.

“No, but I know where the Cullen’s live, and I find it hard to believe that in all this snow you walked all the way here. Now hold on tight and try closing your eyes, it may help with the nausea, cara mia.” He gave you seconds at most to bury your face in his shoulder before he took off, maybe…or not? You weren’t really sure but you didn’t dare lift your head to look. He made sure his gait was smooth, every stride flawless so he didn’t so much as jostle you, and by the time he gently encouraged you to unwind your legs from his waist you were in front of the Cullen’s house. The only reminder you had ever ran anywhere with him at all was the windswept state of your hair – it was unfair his still looked perfect.

He had been right of course, you had driven to the Cullen’s today. It was hard to imagine him sitting beside you in your small car, his cloak about him and his outfit all…well, what even was he wearing? Why did that even matter when this Volturi guard was escorting you to pack things that would be your only reminder of home? Demetri was quiet, watching you carefully as you stared at your car. Nothing made sense. Why had Demetri saved you when he was the one who hauled you out in front of Aro? Why had it felt like he was protecting you? Why was everything so…comfortable? Being around him was like being in the company of an old friend, it was familiar and warm, inviting, the silences felt natural.

Demetri quietly called your name, his expression questioning, but you didn’t bother to give him an explanation, simply pulled out your car keys and got into the driver’s seat. The radio chased away the silence, your fingers clenched tight around the wheel as you tried to figure out what to pack.

“Where are we going?” you asked him finally. Demetri kept his eyes on the horizon.

“To our home, to Volterra. You will be joining us in Italy.” He answered. Italy? You didn’t know the first thing about Italian culture. What was the food like? The people? The language? You’d need to pack warmer clothes, and they didn’t accommodate turtle-necks – not that you needed to hide a bite from vampires. It wasn’t really until you pulled up in the driveway of your home that it really struck you, the weight of the deal you made hanging heavy on your shoulders as you idled in front of your childhood home. In your mind you could see yourself running up the drive, your suitcase abandoned for your father to pick up as he welcomed you to stay for the summer. Other winters where you had opted to spend Christmas with Charlie over Renée flashed through your mind next, dilapidated snowmen and strung up lights over the porch flashing bright. Tears stung your eyes.

“I’m never coming back here, am I?” you whispered. Demetri remained silent, and you were grateful for it. There was nothing he could say to make this better and you suspected he knew that. Furiously wiping at your eyes, you rummaged for your house keys and cleared your throat. “You should wait until I open the front door, it’ll look suspicious if you follow me in and any of the neighbours see.” You muttered, already climbing out of the car before he could argue. It was a slow walk up the drive, a walk where you desperately tried to imprint the bumps in the concrete, the muddy smells of the forest surrounding you, and the awful netting in the windows’ you father hadn’t changed since your mother moved on, into your memory.

The smell of stale beer from the cans in the recycling box beneath the sink hit your nose as the door opened, the familiar smells of Charlie’s aftershave and Sue’s perfume coming next. The house was cold, quiet, desolate even. Demetri was in front of you in the blink of an eye as you shut the door behind you, nobody would have seen him enter for sure. He glanced around himself, obviously curious at the choice in décor and the photographs along the walls – you couldn’t bear to look at them. With a soft sigh, you left him in the living room, knowing he would do what he liked anyway regardless as to whether or not you invited him upstairs.

The suitcase you had packed for your trip would need to be unpacked, some of your jumpers and long-sleeved shirts would not be needed in Italy after all. It would be hot, and heat was not a friend to wool. Your wardrobe doors flung open, you were contemplating what to put back when Demetri interrupted you.

“Vampires do not feel temperature the same way humans do. When you turn it will be no issue to wear jumpers, if they are what you prefer.” He said. Brows crinkling, you subconsciously lifted a hand to your throat.

“It’s not really a fashion choice,” you murmured, “But I guess I don’t need to really hide a bitemark from a bunch of vampires, do I?” Just like that the air changed; you no longer felt comfortable with Demetri, not when he was giving off such a sour energy. He radiated danger, anger. He took a breath to visibly compose himself, but his eyes were still darkened by anger, near black with the rage he radiated. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he clenched and unclenched his fists. You took a step back from him, biting down on your lower lip as your heart skittered.

“Show me,” he said, eyes blazing. You shook your head. “Show me.” He growled, stepping forward this time. Gulping, you reached up with a shaky hand to pull the turtle-neck down as far as you could, thankful the material stretched slightly. Demetri peered past the fabric to the silver crescent shapes of Riley’s teeth, emblazoned on your skin until Volturi venom decided to buff out that imperfection. He hissed quietly, his fingertips tracing the mark and sending shivers down your spine. He was freezing cold, cold as a corpse actually since that was technically what he was, so why did his fingers leave a blazing trail of fire across your skin?

“It’s just small, it’ll go away anyway if-“

“It will not, go away.” Demetri ground out, his eyes fixated on the scar. He looked genuinely disgusted and you couldn’t tell if it was at you or the bitemark, you couldn’t tell quite why it bothered you so much either. Why did you care so much that this upset Demetri?

“It won’t?” you asked weakly. He winced a bit, letting his hands drop and looking away. You counted ten whole seconds before he dared turn back to you.

“No, it will not. Venom is what will immortalise you, petrify your system, it has had a chance to do so to those cells it has touched already and they will be forever changed by it. My only hope is to bite down there, that by breaking the surface with my teeth it heals over with my venom.” He almost growled the word at you in his frustration and you swallowed, blinking in surprise.

“You’re going to be the one that turns me?” you questioned. Could he even do that? Did he have the self-control? You had thought Aro would do it if you were honest, though you couldn’t say you were over the moon to have that old coot’s teeth in your throat it was guaranteed to at least be safe. What right did Demetri have to steal your life? Why was he so angry over the thought of another vampire biting you? Had he claimed some weird sort of vampire dibs?

“Of course. The Volturi have laws they enforce but when it comes to affairs between mates, they leave well enough alone.” He informed you, head tilting. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Mates?” you whispered, mind reeling.

“You do not feel the pull?” he asked. He had yet to step back from you, unbearably close and yet somehow not close enough. For a moment you couldn’t say anything, simply trying to desperately scramble to think coherently enough to consider answering.

“I don’t…I barely know you, you can’t just…say that.” You stammered. Demetri very gently grasped your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upward so you were forced to maintain eye contact with him. You weren’t sure what he was searching for, if he found it or not, but he dropped your chin with a sigh.

“Pack, tesoro, we have little time.” He murmured. You were relieved when he stepped back – it gave you a chance to breathe. Mate? Demetri thought you were his mate? You knew what that meant, Edward had explained to you what his connection with Bella was like after Riley had introduced you to his world, trying to help you understand how awful the months leading up to Bella’s running away to Italy had been for both of them. Is that why he had been so protective of you on the field? Is that why he was so furious another vampire had dared mark you? It crossed your mind then just how selfish your decision actually looked to the outside world. In your head, you had been saving your family from suffering, but to them it probably looked like you had chosen to run off with your mate because you didn’t trust they would take care of you. How were they ever going to forgive you for this?

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #request #swan sister #they're all as dumb as each other I swear #x reader #possessive demetri is kind of a thing I'm suddenly into apparently

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ramzawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.

#mcyt x Y/N #mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp reader insert #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #The Eret #The eret smp #the eret dsmp #eret smp #eret dsmp #ramza writes

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vegetalass · 4 years ago

Note

What about the RDR2 boys on a road trip?

Thank you so much for this fun request! As you can see.... I went a little crazy❤️✨😩

General

They fight about what snacks they should bring and end up forgetting them all

They all fart in the car and blame each other for it.

Literally ends up being the stinkiest ride ever and everyone wants to Die

The fighting about what’s played on the stereo is endless and someone is always unhappy about it

If they have to take two separate cars, Hosea switches up the groups so that no one is stuck with the same people for too long

If one car seats seven, Hosea and Dutch will take the other for themselves (smh)

I’m not gonna lie… literally all of them would pee in a bottle… how they feel about it is pretty different, though

Arthur

Can drive one-handed

Drives in silence, not because he likes silence but because everyone else is Too Loud and he needs a break

Tries to talk about the scenery but that’s boring and he gets ignored

Also gets ignored when he points out cool cars.. and cows… and license plates…

Even Charles can’t be bothered to respond

Backseat driver

Gets yelled at constantly for this but doesn’t stop

John gets it the worst

He doesn’t have road rage, just thinks that everyone is a bad driver

His favorite thing is to roll down all of the windows in the car

Rarely gets to do this because of how many complaint’s he’d get

Stops at every farm stand on the side of the road that he sees

After a while he doesn’t even need anything and just does it because he feels bad if he drives past them

The only thing he’ll eat while driving is chips

His clothes and seat get covered in crumbs

Wears his hat, jacket and boots in the car even though it’s hot and doesn’t make sense

Also probably buys one of those dangly pine trees to hang on his rearview mirror

Can’t read in the car because he gets carsick :(

Would he pee in a bottle? - Yes, but he doesn’t want to talk about it

John

If he’s not driving, he’s probably asleep

And if he’s not asleep, he’s “resting”

Honestly, he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone in that environment

The grumpiest one of them

He’s just mad (sad) because Abigail wouldn’t let him go with Ms. Grimshaw and the girls

Probably ends up spilling something and tries to blame it on whoever is sitting next to him

Spends most of his radio time just browsing through stations

When he finds anything he likes, it immediately goes to ads and the process starts all over again

Takes all his rest stops at 7/11 just so he can get a slushee and a hotdog

He’s okay with stopping at gas stations too but they’re just not the same

Takes off his shoes in the car and just wears his socks the whole ride

He probably drives like that, too

This is why Abigail didn’t let him go with them

Would he pee in a bottle? - Yes, but he’d be mad about it and would try to bring it up a lot

Charles

Plans out where and when he’s going to make stops

Probably does a few stretches and some jumping jacks when he gets out of the car

He will let the gang stop at McDonalds but only if he thinks they deserve it

The only thing he orders for himself is an ice cream cone

The safest driver out of everyone

So safe, in fact, that he’s always made to drive at night

He doesn’t mind much because everyone is pretty quiet when it’s late and that means less complaining

Makes a long playlist full of music like Sufjan Stevens and Mumford & Sons (and The Black Eyed Peas)

Everyone tries to clown him for it but he’s the King of brushing it off

“When it’s your turn, you can play what you want” or “I didn’t complain when you were playing 100gecs”

First of all: drag them…

Second of all: okay, Dad.

Talented because he can read in the car without getting carsick

Apologizes for everyone’s behavior when they go anywhere

Makes everyone use hand sanitizer after doing literally anything

They have to pass it around the car like little kids

It’s probably Bath and Body Works

Would he pee in a bottle? - Yes, but pretends that he wouldn’t

Micah

If he’s driving, he gets control of the radio. Doesn’t matter if it’s his turn or not, he gets Full Control.

If anyone even suggests changing what he’s playing, he snaps at them

Dummy probably smokes in the car

Dummy also probably eats while he drives

Holds his food while steering

Everything gets greasy

His rest stops are incredibly short

So short that they practically don’t exist

Threatens to drive off without people

The only time Dutch intervenes with his behavior is when he tries to pick up a hitchhiker

He’s like, “Look Arthur, it’s your long lost brother!”

He also probably tries to stop at a gentlemen’s club in the middle of nowhere at some point, too

“I could crash this car right now if I wanted to”

He only says this once though because it causes a riot

Backseat driver but only to Arthur

Sean swerving and Hosea speeding: I sleep

Arthur accidentally cutting someone off: REAL SHIT?

The only other one who gets to use the charging cord (because he’s mean and demands to)

Would he pee in a bottle? - He’s almost happy to

Hosea

Is never allowed to drive because he doesn’t like to make stops. He 100% will drive past every single rest stop and every single McDonalds they see

Everyone could be screaming at him to pull over and he’d just ignore them

Drives way too fast. Catch him going 90 MPH saying “I’m just going with the traffic!”

Everyone else: terrified

When it’s his turn for the radio, he chooses to play an audiobook

If you complain about being bored to him, he’ll try to get everyone to sing campfire songs

Everyone gets to about ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall before giving up and start fighting

He’s also the one to suggest playing “I Spy”

The gang will play but it’s all like

“I Spy something gross”

“Is it Micah’s butt crack?”

“Yes”

Has one of those mini electric fans that sprays water at you when you press a button

Doesn’t share it

Always has his phone plugged into the charger to the point where no one else can use it

Keeps a box of bubbly water under his seat

It’s lukewarm

He’s the only one who drinks it but he offers it to everyone 24/7

Would he pee in a bottle? - Yes, but only because he makes the other boys do it and he feels guilty

Dutch

Acts like everyone should be grateful he’s driving even though they’re all taking turns

Pulls the “You’re lucky I drove, I’m not a chauffeur!” card when someone is mean to him about anything

Music of choice is just Elvis Presley with a few random smooth jazz songs mixed in

“What do you boys know about this?”

Everyone: …

Complains about everything

If he’s not complaining about someone being irritating, he’s complaining about how hot it is, and if not that, there’s something else

Always thirsty and needs to have a drink with him at all time

Will only share it with Hosea or Arthur and lowkey neither of them want what he’s drinking

When he’s driving, makes everyone stop at a drive-through cafe where he orders the most expensive iced drink on the menu

Like Arthur, gets mad at people for “not enjoying the view”

“You boys are so lucky you get to experience the…” Blah, blah, blah

Ends up falling asleep but only because he wears a sleep mask and ear plugs

Probably listens to music on a walkman lmao

*Dutch in sunglasses and headphones* “Sorry I didn’t see you right there, I was too busy, mmm, blocking out the haters”

Would he pee in a bottle? - Yes, because he thinks it’s efficient

Kieran

Slowest driver of the bunch

And out of all of them, takes the most stops

Probably packs his own bag of snacks and it’s all fucking jellybeans and gummy bears

Says that they’re the easiest to eat while driving

Technically, that isn’t even a lie (Micah, please take notes)

He will stop anywhere anyone asks… Why is he so nice?

His favorite stop is Dunkin’ Donuts, though

The music he plays is either great or awful and no one can agree on which is which

Every other song is 2000s dance techno

That or Taylor Swift (and that’s when people start yelling at him to change it)

Spends the whole trip in slides and no one wants to sit next to him because of his exposed feet

He can (and will) drive in them, though

When he’s not driving, he’s probably watching a movie or playing games on a big ass tablet

Gets made fun of for using huge headphones

People are just jealous he’s able to find a wifi signal

Would he pee in a bottle? - He’s done grosser things for less, so yes

Javier

Brings himself a sandwich to eat and ends up sitting on it

Backseat driver energy but he’s better at restraining his comments than Arthur

That being said, if your driving is shitty, he will send you Vibes

Doesn’t bother much with searching for music and just ends up playing a few hour long YouTube mixes when it’s his turn for the radio

It’s either that, or Mexican radio for 2 hours (and he will sing along)

The only people who don’t complain about this are Charles and Arthur

Probably the only one out of all of them to make the gang go to an actual restaurant during his rest stop

It’s the first real meal any of them have had in like, three days, and suddenly they all feel better

They refuse to admit it, though

Clips his nails out the window at some point

Ties a bandana around his eyes and uses it as a sleep mask

*insert that picture of the guy with his face mask over his eyes on an airplane*

Also probably uses the bandana to block out the smell of farts when it gets especially stinky

Would he pee in a bottle? - He doesn’t want to, but his logic is that if everyone is doing it, why shouldn’t he?

Sean

His driving speed is normal but his driving skills are… Bad

He just isn’t paying attention honestly

Too busy talking

Probably tries to text and drive

Arthur takes away his phone after that

Also, did someone say road rage?

When it’s his turn for music, only plays nasty pop and rap

It’s fine at first, but the fourth time he plays “I Cry” by Flo Rida or “New Body” by Kanye and Nicki Minaj, everyone gets mad

Only takes rest stops at gas stations

And takes literally the longest stops out of all them

Probably spends the whole time telling the gas station cashier about how annoying everyone is

Everyone is like “kasjdfkhd” because they think he’s the annoying one and they’ve been waiting to leave for like ten minutes

Don’t sit next to him because he will sweat on you

If you share your drink with him, 50% chance he’ll backwash in it

When he’s not driving, he’s watching Tik Toks without headphones (if Arthur has given his phone back, that is)

Would he pee in a bottle? - Without hesitation

Bonus:

While the boys are all off fighting, Ms. Grimshaw packed the girls a picnic that they get to enjoy at a nice, camping rest stop

Molly speeds like the devil

She’s like Hosea, if not worse

Tilly made everyone a different playlist and they all take turns listening to them

Karen isn’t allowed to drive because she spiked her water bottle before leaving

Also isn’t allowed the aux cord because she will play inappropriate music or meme songs

Sadie pumps the gas and chooses all of the snacks for everyone

It’s a mixture of healthy treats and candy

Jack is the Squidward wearing sunglasses while sunbathing meme when John asks if he wants to ride “with the boys”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #bruh i went off #i had to go on a roadtrip a couple years ago and it was HELL so this was easy tho #im working late tomorrow but feel free to send me some ideas yall! i might not do them all but i love thinking about them❤️#also the format got fucked up so if its a lil messy i sowwy #shyhidingshadowgirl

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g--r-e--e-n · 4 years ago

Text

The Crow

A late Mammon x GN!MC for the Max thingy!

Warnings: It obviously talks about a crow, just in case. The ending might seem quite rushed, I'm sorry, it was already too long :(. No spoilers, everything is before the MC's actual arrival to the Devildom.

Loud music echoing all around your house, singing and dancing like a madman through the corridors like it was no body's business, mopping the floor and trying to make something nice out of your free days.

Everything was perfect, just the way anyone would have always liked it. Yet, somehow… It felt empty, bitter, almost painful.

It hadn't been long since you and who you thought was your other half broke up. But you couldn't allow yourself to feel sad, not now.

You're young, you're strong, and you have a lovely future. You repeat it over and over, trying to turn the music louder than any thoughts you may have. It might not be the easiest thing to do, but trying won’t murder you, will it?

Finally there was not a single shadow of dust in your apartment. Not that there was anything before, but it helped keeping yourself busy. Now, finally, you only had to get rid off all the rubbish you somehow managed to collect.

You reluctantly turned off the music and made your way to the bins. Luckily, they weren't too far away: It was a cold, rainy day, and you'd rather stay at home instead of fighting the wind with your little umbrella,your hair a mess and your socks now wet.

Your day couldn't really get worse, yet you started doubting it the second you saw something dark moving in between feral pieces of litter someone didn't care about enough to throw correctly.

For a second you started believing in ghosts and God knows what but,soon enough, you saw a crow's deep black feathers, a painful caw breaking through the air like a thunder.

It was hurt, hungry, wet and cold. You could see how it bended it's right wing, unable to fly, a poor creature begging you with it's eyes, deep as the galaxy, were you clearly saw yourself, wet hair sticking to your face, comfortable yet not too fashionable clothes, eye bags hanging from your eyelashes, as pitiful as the poor bird in front of you, even if your wound was emotional rather than physical.

You didn't think twice before throwing your own raincoat over the creature, knowing that holding it with your bare hands would be rather dangerous.

Soon you headed home, crow surrounded in plastic like some bizarre newborn baby. It seemed to be weirdly docile, given its nature, but you soon learned to give it its space, holding it away from your face, barely able to keep the umbrella over your soaked bodies.

As soon as you get home, you lay him down carefully, keeping an eye on him and slowly getting rid of your wet shoes and reaching your phone.

The bird seemed scared, but it didn't move, eyes staying fixed on yours, its screams sounding more like begging than dangerous.

You soon sent a message to your good old friend Liam. Sure, Google is interesting, but Liam is your neighbor, a vet, and you've known him for years. This is not your first time rescuing feral animal in danger, so you knew for a fact you can rely on him.

Soon, he messaged you back, telling you that he's on his way with a cage so he can take the crow to the clinic. You couldn't help but chuckle, of course Liam wouldn't allow you to take the poor little thing in your arms, knowing how it could reduce your skin to vaguely human-flavored threads.

However, this also left you with a couple minutes alone with this somehow magnificent king of dumpsters. After observing him from a while, you walk backwards towards the kitchen. As soon as you could, you reapeared, hard bread on your hands and a smile on your lips, seeing how the bird stood still. Not that he had much option, of course. His right leg didn't seem too fine either.

Breaking a small piece of bread, you carefully and pretty cowardly throw it at the crow, thinking it would land before him, but being rather amused by the way the creature just catches it ever so quickly.

When Liam came, you had almost ran out of bread, and both the crow and you seemed so engaged in the game of throwing and catching that you barely realized the young man walking into the room, hair wet and a miracously almost dry cardboard box that you supposed was originally meant for holding fruit at the market,

You almost jumped when you heard him call you by your name, but soon your fear turned into a warm and welcoming hug, never minding his cold body, or how the crow ruffled its feathers, wishing it could growl in this pitiful form that barely managed him to caw drily. Something about the tall brunette slowly stroking your lower back managed to piss it off.

"Oh my God, you are such a mess!" Happily, and always positively, saluted you Ian. At times you feel like he doesn't really know when he's not supposed to be sincere, but not wanting to keep your new little friend waiting, you decide to keep your big mouth shut. "So... Where's our guy?"

His bright smile calms you down a bit, but its effects are quickly reversed by how the crow clumsily tries to run away, jumping on its one functional leg, only tangling itself with the raincoat still surrounding it.

Liam gives you a raised eyebrow. "I know I told you not to touch it too much, but a blanket would've been nice, you know?"

You simply shrug it off, not wanting to admit that you got too distracted feeding it to even be a decent human. The crow apparently agrees with Liam, because suddenly it's easy to move around again. You probably thought it was simply a funny coincidence, because, well crows are clever but, as far as you know, not THAT clever.

Who would've thought a poor demon would've gotten cursed by some witch? Not you, or not seriously, at least. As much as you love those sort of themes, reality doesn't allow them to become true.

A crow is just a crow, as clever as it could be. Not more, not less.

“Whatever. Let's do our thing, it's getting so late..." You softly sighted, eyes slowly dancing towards your window, the sky getting darker every second. Too invested in cleaning your bad memories out, you had barely realized how time had passed. Did you even have lunch?

If Liam noticed the brief sadness in your expression, he decided to leave you be, carefully holding the injured crow before leaving him in the cardboard box. The bird moved, cawed, yes, but he didn't seem to put too much of a fight. After all, Mammon might be a fool, but he'd much rather get back to Lucifer as soon as possible, thank you very much. Hanging upside down is not a pleasant experience.

Soon you were silently in Liam's car, the box resting in the backseat. Your friend's warm brown eyes were fixed in the road, but you both knew each other too well. He knew you were having a bad time. You knew he was plotting something.

"You know, after we drop our new son..." He softly said, taking a turn to the right. You braced yourself, both for his harsh driving and the proposal in coming. "We could go to the club, like in the good old days."

You softly laughed it off, even knowing Liam would easily catch the bitter feeling growing in your throat. "You know I'm trying to save my money, Liam. It doesn't grow from trees."

"I mean, technically..." He shrugged, turning now to the left. Even if he was being particularly gentle in order not to turn your feathery friend into a smoothie, you still had to stop yourself from screaming when the car almost ran over an elderly lady. "C'mon! There's a zebra cross like... Eleven meters away?!"

You slightly turned, sighing in relief seeing the crow is still safe.

"What I was saying" Liam continued, much to your dismay "I can pay for you, you know? I'm gaining some good cash now, and I don't have that many expenses. Plus, I'm pretty sure I owe you one from back in highschool."

A faint, but at least genuine laugh was thrown into the air as memories came back. Summer nights lying in the sand, gossiping and laughing, having a good time. "You dummy, that was ages ago! I just... Don't feel like going anywhere crowded."

"What about my place then? I've got some nice cheap booze. You look like you could use it."

He teasingly flashed you a bright smile before finally hitting the brakes and getting off the car. It was hard, but you managed to get out without fainting along the way.

"Well, thank you very much sir. You too look alluring" you sarcastically commented, before going to pick up the crow that stared at you so firmly with its jet black eyes that you felt the void within them could shallow you entirely any time.

Mammon doesn't have the best attention spam, or any sort emotional intelligence, but bring money to the equation and it may just change.

The human was short on money. Something Mammon, of course, understood very well. The human, even if a lowly human, had also saved him.

His little braincells were working hard, wondering if it was right to do what he thought to do. What if you were some terrible person underneath? What if you were a witch looking for a pact?

Luckily, he didn't have much time to drown himself in conspiracies, for soon he wad bring brought to the vet, and, by the way he was moving around, he did not enjoy it.

"Oh, C'mon, buddy..." You softly complained, struggling to hold onto the cardboard while Liam opened the clinic's door, fighting against the key. "I know it hurts. Just... Hold on a little, alright? Be a brave little boy for me"

You smiled at the crow, Liam suddenly laughing his soul off, loud enough for you not to pay much attention at the effect your words had had on the poor creature emiting broken caws.

"Do you always have to do that?" He mercilessly mocked you, finally opening the door and holding it for you, mainly because your arms were too busy, both with the crow and the hard fight against yourself to keep you from strangling Liam. "Come in, leave it on my table and wait outside, alright? Here, get yourself some coffee."

He absent mindedly thew you a coin. When Liam entered the clinic, he was no longer your dear and annoying friend Liam. He was the doctor. And the doctor was very cool at doing his thing, but pretty much useless at anything else.

Useless enough to throw a coin to someone holding a crow.

Of course, you couldn't just drop the guy or get the coin with your mouth like some dog, so you simply stared at him waiting for the realization to kick in. However, to your surprise, the crow threw itself as the coin, with as much grace as a bird with a wounded leg and wing can throw themselves at anything, which is, sadly, not much.

Luckily you did manage to keep him from failing, a soft smile flourishing as you saw him holding onto the coin.

"Please? I want to finish soon, the rum won't finish itself tonight." Liam was now in front of you, slightly surprising you. Trying your best to hide it, you hand him the crow. He simply sighed, struggling a bit to take the coin out from his beak, holding it out to you while taking the crow like a perfect choreography. "There you go."

You exaggerated an angry face as he petted your head a few times, managing to keep the animal in one arm like it was just natural before disappearing after the door.

Liam didn't like having you around while he works, specially if he knows it can involve anything even a bit gruesome. But this time you simply feel the need to be there with the pitiful crow, to help him and bring some hope into his beautiful eyes that seemed ever so intelligent.

The loud caws only made it worse, so you decided to get some coffee into your life.

Coffee at the clinic is bitter and far too strong, but Liam insists it's the only thing keeping him from falling asleep after specially complicated shifts.

You didn't really think twice before chugging it down, regretting it immediately. You were already nervous enough, why add caffeine?

You soon began wandering around the waiting room you knew so well, roaming next to the door to try and catch a glimpse of what could be going on in its guts. Liam is a good bet, but, what if something had gone wrong? What if it was not fixable?

A crow is not something you can keep in your house, is it? What would you do then? The closest animal rescue center is so far away, but perhaps you could take a few days off your obligation. After the whole situation with your ex, it’s very much needed.

Your constant thinking was soon relieved by a softly smiling Liam walking in with the crow resting in the cardboard box, looking all over like it too felt uncomfortable there. Its broken wing had been carefully wrapped in what experience told you was coflex. You couldn’t see his leg, but it must be in a similar situation.

“Our little man here has beheaved just fine” Liam said, softly. As much as he always made fun of how you spoke to animals, he was not that different. I mean, he did dedicate his whole life to this, didn’t he? “He should be able to fly in… Perhaps two weeks? It’s not a multiple fracture, which is rather relieving, but who knows.”

You slightly frowned. You did expect something similar, of course, but you wouldn’t normaly expect a bird with a broken wing to be half as lively as this one had been. A part of you admired his strenght, yes, but the other one felt simply curious.

“What about the leg?” you softly ask, bending a bit to see the creature eye to eye, barely saving enough distance to ensure your safety. “It couldn’t walk. What is it?”

“Give it around five or seven days and he will be walking all over” He tried your best to cheer you up, so you decided to at least gift him a little smile. “And he even seems to be eating well, so no need to worry, alright?”

You noded, standing up again to throw the empty cup of coffe in the bin, its bitter taste slowly dissappearing from your mouth as this new, warm feeling took you all over.

“So… Your house, right?” You flash Liam a smile while taking the crow carefuly. It seems to struggle against it for a bit, but soon relaxes. What else could it do?

Liam didn’t even bother to confirm what you already knew to be true, as he opened the doors once again and you stepped outside, the night’s cold air against your skin. Before you even realized it, you were siting in his kitchen, the crow resting on the counter, warm tears on your face, the burning feeling of alcohol down your throat… And dedscending through a rabbit hole of blurry memories and complains.

Trust me, there are many things you regret. But getting ever so wasted is deffinetly within the number ten.

You wanted to keep on with your life, you wanted to do your best, to show yourself you didn’t need any “other half” to be completed. You know, being active and stuff, putting yourself together.

But here you were, laying down in your bed on a Saturday afternoon, staring at your ceiling in pain and hunger, too hangover to even sit up and absolutely obliterate the bird that was screaming so loudly. God, that surely is another big regret of yours right now.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to let it starve, not again, so you slowly roll out from bed, holding your head with your hand, the same clothes you wore yesterday all wrinkled around your body.

“I know, I know.” You complain as if the bird knew what you were saying, too naive to realice he, in fact, was. It didn’t take you long to cross your rather small appartment to reach the kitchen, were you apparently dropped the bird yesterday, not that you remember much about it. You lazily searched for the bag Liam had given you, filled with sunflower seeds and… Crickets?

You look at the bird, hesitating a bit before sighing and walking towards it, leaving the open bag for it to eat and, hopefully, not get your floor too dirty. It seemed to be pretty hungry, as it devoured his meal without a single complain, quicker than ever. After all, Mammon was used to eat before Beelzebub could even dream of stealing his dear fuel.

Oh, how he missed his brothers. What could they be doing? Perhaps they didn’t even realice. Perhaps they were happier that way. He has always been “the scummy second born”, after all, so isn’t it a favour to dissapear like this?

You didn’t quite understand what was going on, but you did realice the way the crow’s eating speed decayed. Before struggling a bit against yourself and your huge headache, you spread your arm towards the bird, not daring to touch it, relieved when it didn’t seem too keen on murdering you, at least by the moment.

“Come here, little guy…” You carefuly stroke his head a few times. It seemed to enjoy it, but you still felt a bit too insecure to maintain the contact for too long. “You will be flying again in no time.”

You soon went to do your own thing, drink your pretty late breakfast, sit by the counter and silently tink of some name for your newfound friend. Little did you know this was but the start of a very wicked story.

The bird, who, to Mammon’s dismay you had called Liquorice, proved to be a rather interesting company, even when he could not move that much for the first few days. You found yourself spending most of your free time playing with him, or even telling him your deepest of secrets, not like he could judge you.

It was relaxing, no façade to be held, not a lie to be uttered. It was Liquorice and you, and it felt perfect. Either way, seeing how clingy he slowly grew to be, it’s not like it was one sided.

In four days the crow could already run around, and it seemed to want to look outside. Of course Mammon loved your company, but he was still worried. A part of him thought it was foolish, that nobody would miss him, but he knew Lucifer far too well.

Seeing how his wing wasn’t still healed, you decided to accompany him to his little walks all over the town’s outskirts, and it seemed to even strenghthen your relationship. You still cound’t be anywhere with people or vehicles, but fresh air was nice enough to make your black and white world broaden a bit.

Days passed by quicker than either Mammon or you would’ve thought, too lost in your little shennanigans to even mind the clock. Soon the crow was able to fly, as you discovered when it leaped from the fridge to the hallway, happily cawing around.

At first it was a happy moment, and you soon sent a hundred videos to Liam to show him how the little crow was doing so well. However, soon both of you had to face a realization: His time here was over.

Liquorice was a wild animal as far as you were concerned, of course, and you did not have the guts to keep him trapped. Not after knowing how that felt. However, something inside you felt uncomfortable with the idea of seeing your house empty again. Mammon, of course, also felt uneasy, but for very different reasons.

You see, for you this all had been helping a very funny crow. But he was a tad more conscious of the whole situation, and trust me, it was putting him through hell. Sure, he wanted to return to his brothers, but… What about this human?

He tried to convince himself this was just him wanting to protect a weak being as a “thank you”, but his lie was too obvious to ignore. He had seen you at your worst, in the nights when you drank alone and talked for hours about someone he simply knew did not deserve you. He had seen you at your best, dancing all across your house when you recieved any good news, cooing at him when he did even the smallest of things, like it was a great archievement you could barely believe. You had hold him close, you had kissed the top of his head, stared for ages into his eyes, not realizing the effect none of your actions had in him. He had slowly started to care, and he was not enjoying that idea, but what could he do?

He’s just a crow, and now that there’s no excuse for you to keep him around, it’s his time to go and dissapear, turning into a vague memory. God, why did he feel so impotent now?

You both struggled against yourselves in silence, until you came up with an idea.

“Let’s give it a day, alright, buddy? Just to see if you still remember how to move those wings of yours”

You showed him an empty smile he could tell from miles apart, but he couldn’t do much about it, drowning too deep into his own feelings.

The following day, both of you stayed at home, playing your little games of fetch, you laughing at how the crow beheaved almost like a little puppy, him silently swooning over the sweet sound of your laughter, almost forgetting the bitterness of the situation until night actually fell and it was time to close this wonderful little adventure.

You were both lying in the living room when night came, exhausted from running around, breathing heavily with a big smile to your face like it didn’t hurt.

“You know… I think it’s time already, right?” You slowly stand up, yawning softly. You didn’t really get too much sleep last night, and you sure as hell needed it. “Time to be free, little guy! Here, come.”

You carefully pick him up, close to your chest. You knew him too well to think he would hurt you, and the warmth was greatly appreciated by Mammon, who snuggled a bit within your embrace, trying to save this moment forever deep in his memories.

Being the avatar of greed, he’s used to the feeling of wanting, and, at times, not being able to. Yet, somehow, it didn’t stop this ugly feeling from blossoming in his now feathery chest. He felt so pathetic like this, so worked up because of a human being.

He and his brothers knew very damn well this wouldn’t lead anywhere nice. What could he do? Even if he managed to stay here, he knows his family can’t take another Lilith, and every second he spends here it’s harder not to fall even deeper for this trap his father seemed to have laid just for him.

Mammon convinced himself it was for the better, and soon did you. When you set him free to fly in the park next to your house, he didn’t even bother to look back as you screamed your goodbyes, the poor people around the park staring at you with a raised eyebrow as you soon deinflated with a big sight, knowing your routine was back to haunt you forever.

And of course, it did. You were back to doing your thing, spending your afternoons either with Liam and his new boyfriend or watching bad movies all by yourself, barely feeling certain melancholy as you found some stray feather hidden in your couch.

Liquorice was gone. Little did you know Mammon was not.

The young boy had found Lucifer as soon as he had left the park, and their little chat had been… Interesting. But at least it didn’t lead to his death, but rather to some extra chores and, finally, the hex coming undone, which meant he could always try to come back, even if he could no longer take certain adventage of your inocence.

Of course he went back to the House and Lamentation, and was made to attend every RAD lesson, but as soon as he was out of sight he was already walking over to your house, “accidentally” bumping you in the street from time to time, always trying his best to hide his identity, knowing you would probably be weirded out by always seeing the same guy around, and how easily his fluffy white hair and glasses could be told from any crowds.

You didn’t really think much of the many faceless guys you happened to encounter, of course. But what really made you ask yourself certain questions was the amount of little things showing up on your window frame, from stray coins to little glittery plastic jewelry. You didn’t want to think too much of it, but thinking it was Liquorice warmed your heart a little, and it was much less disturbing that thinking some random guy was passing daily around your home.

Mammon couldn’t help but swoon over the way you smiled, pressing his little gifts to your chest and looking through the window, the poor demon barely managing to stay invisible and attached to a tree he didn’t trust that much (C’mon, human, what made ya think livin’ on a fith floor was a good idea?), too scared to face you, too scared to leave.

Who would’ve told him it would be you, even if dragged by his dearest (and very aware) brother who would eventually face him, a feather necklace on your neck, smiling unkowingly and turning his little world upside down?

#Obey me #obey me mammon #om!#obey me swd #Obey me fanfic #om! swd #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x you

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regrettablewritings · 5 years ago

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How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this.

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery, as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

#just a dumb little thing #anyway stay safe and healthy #regrettablewritings #tadashi hamada imagine #lucifer morningstar imagine #dewey finn imagine #wade wilson imagine #harley quinn imagine #tadashi hamada #lucifer morning star #dewey finn #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc

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magalidragon · 4 years ago

Text

targaryen’s seven | a Jonerys drabble

A/N: I could not help myself and just threw down this Drabble. I don’t want to post it on Ao3 just yet because is not a full one-shot nor is it going to be multi-chapter (in the near future, maybe one day I will come back to it) but thought you guys might like it. Enjoy!

The wind bit at her exposed skin, cheeks pinking without any aide of blush or tint. It whipped over her silver curls and braids, already pulled back taut from her face. It would have chilled anyone’s bones, except hers. Her bones were heated from the heavy thud of her heart against her breastbone, the rush of blood in her veins, and the fire raging inside her soul. The fire which rose to sparkle in her lavender eyes, redden her plump and pursed lips, and thirsted for revenge.

In the dark winter in the North, far beyond the everlasting lights and skyscrapers of King’s Landing, the craggy peaks of the Vale, and the marshy flats of the Riverlands, no one walking by on the quaint lantern-lit light posted street with its cozy restaurants, pubs, boutique hotels, and little shops devoted to preserving the heritage of the Realm’s largest, sparsest, and remotest kingdom.

The woman standing against one of these lightposts, her hands in the pockets of her designer black trenchcoat, hardly paying attention to the bustle of people. There were locals intermixed with tourists—it was the Dawn Festival soon—going from building to building, stopping to take photos in front of silly little cardboard cutouts of ice zombies and Northmen.

Only a few stopped in their tracks to glance at her, for she stood out among the darkness and the cold snow, her silver hair a moonlit beacon, her entire demeanor that of someone who should not be trifled with nor confronted. One glance of her purple eyes and they were on their way, bewitched almost to forget she was even there to begin with.

She lifted her left wrist up to peer at the heavy silver men’s wristwatch, ticking softly under the wail of the wind. Daenerys Targaryen tsked under her breath. “He’s late,” she murmured. She supposed it was silly to think he would actually honor her summons. He would not be coming then.

Well I suppose I will have to go looking for him.

Her heavy black combat boots crunched under the fresh snows, hands returning to her pockets, walking slowly down the sidewalk. The last time she was here had not been pleasant. The Northern History Museum had been far more difficult to crack than she’d originally planned. She had barely made it out of there with the silver wolf circlet she’d broken in to steal. Retrieve, she preferred, even if the authorities had different views on the matter.

The silver wolf circlet allegedly belonged to a Northern queen, who rebelled against the kingdoms and ultimately died of starvation when all her allies abandoned her. It was exceptionally expensive and the funds of which now had been siphoned into a series of orphanages the Northern government had been sorely neglecting.

Her walk took her from the local streets a bit farther off the beaten track, the lamps extinguished or nonexistent, the people fewer and fewer, until she was the only one on a darkened street.

Dany paused in front of a pub, glancing down at her phone. A message from her hacker—Missandei—informed her his cell phone had been pinging from that location an hour ago. She glanced up, smirked at the worn sign-- The Wildling -- hanging on one hinge. It was not for charm, but because the owner no doubt didn’t care about it. Perfect.

She entered the pub, which suddenly went quiet. Everyone stared at her. Dany reached up to pull at one of the buttons on her coat, her smile amused, gaze sweeping from one end to the other of the less than desirable establishment. She was not a local, she should not be there, but she did not care, purposefully striding towards the ancient bar, where a gigantic man with thick red beard and wild eyebrows surveyed her with bright blue eyes.

“Ale please,” she ordered, sweet.

The man chuckled. “You’re not from around here.”

“Nope.”

“You lost?”

Dany smiled, taking another look over her shoulder at the clientele, all of whom were still staring at her. She met the man’s gaze again, shaking her head. “Nope.”

They looked at each other, unblinking, for what seemed like several minutes, but was only a couple. A boom of laughter finally broke their silent pissing contest, the man slapping his dustbin lid sized hand on the bar, pointing at her, grinning darkly. “I like you.” He reached under the bar for a pint. “Attitude like that, first one’s on me.”

“I was hoping you could pass something along for me to one of your regulars.”

“Can’t say anyone you know would be in my pub,” the man said. He set her pint glass full of darkened ale. He grinned again. “But try me.”

Dany slipped her fingers into one of the inner pockets of her coat, removing a slim black box. She set it down on the bar, pushing it with one red manicured finger towards him. Another enigmatic smile did the trick. “This is for Jon Snow.”

The entire pub might as well have gone on mute.

The jovial bartender immediately hardened, those twinkling blue eyes now chips of ice. He was gruff. “Don’t know a Jon Snow.”

“I think you do Tormund Giantsbane.” Dany climbed off her stool, took a long pull from the ale glass, and wiped the foam from her upper lip. The gruffness of the bartender dropped like a mask at her sudden use of his full name. She liked to stun them. It was fun that way. She turned, calling over her shoulder. “Put it on his tab.”

The heavy oak door swung closed behind her with a deafening thud. Dany liked the taste of that ale, making a note she would have to return if she was ever in the mood for it again. She tugged her phone out, now a message from her ghost, warning her that this was a bad idea and they should try some other way.

Barristan had said the same thing. So had Daario. Grey and Gendry might have also agreed, if Missy and Arya hadn’t been as forceful as they had with their displeasure. Sometimes it was bothersome to have members of a team fucking, but Dany accepted the two couples because they worked well together and did not usually let their personal issues bleed into the world.

Plus they all had reason for this job. Well, not Daario, but he would do anything she asked because he was in love with her.

They all tried to convince her to get someone else. There were plenty who would kill to be a part of her team. To join them in this endeavor. No one else would do, she told them, calm and quiet.

It had to be him.

She returned to her car, parked in a community lot near the main square, and paid the exorbitant parking fee, even if it probably would have been easier to just use one of Missandei’s contraptions to hack her way out of the 15 stags. She drove off, humming along to a silly pop song playing from whatever radio station had been on when she picked up the car at the Winterfell International Airport.

Ah Winterfell, so many memories. The castle loomed large over the city that bore its name. It was a museum now, even if the Stark family still retained some ownership of it. Somewhere on the other side in more modest accommodations a few of the Stark family still lived.

The Starks weren’t as big as they once were. They were desperate for cash. All they had were their titles, such as they were. Dany thought about Arya Stark, her ghost, who technically bore the honorific Lady, but if you thought of calling her that you would get a knife in the gut. It was part of her reason for taking this job.

They all had reasons and now she just needed the final player in the game.

In lieu of a hotel, as much as she would like someone to pull back her linens and prepare a fire for her when she turned in for the evening, she rented out a luxury cabin several miles away. It afforded her privacy, stunning views, and a large sunken tub. Dany liked a sunken tub.

She parked, walked up to the front door, and smiled to herself at the threshold. So obvious. She slipped in the key and entered, turning to plug in the code for the alarm panel. When she turned back, she slipped off her coat, and walked into the large stone paneled living room, with its great fireplace—already crackling—and mountain filled wall of windows.

“Hello Jon.”

The chair before the fire turned, revealing its occupant, who sat rather bored, legs crossed and fingers tapped against his temple. He looked the same as ever, she thought, if not better. Dark raven curls, wild around his face, which had been chiseled from marble. Dark beard dusting over his jaw and upper lip, his gray eyes black in the shadow of the fire. All black ensemble, which she knew hid a body that was as chiseled as his face. Smooth planes and sharp edges, he was a masterpiece.

And he was deadly.

The gray eyes glinted, just a hint of red. Could have been from the fire, or it could have been something else.

Her smile peeled over her teeth. “My white wolf,” she purred.

Jon Snow smiled in return, although it did not meet his eyes, rather cold, as cold as the storm that began outside, the faintest hints of howling wind sounding. “Daenerys Targaryen,” he said, in his rumbling Northern burr. He kept smiling, until he wasn’t.

And then he was at her throat, his fingers digging into the slim column, tilting up her jaw, his breath mingling with hers, warm and raspy. Her eyes threatened to roll back into her head and her body ignited, fire consuming her. He barely touched his mouth to hers, barely breathing. “I thought I said I would kill you the next time I saw you.”

Now it was her turn to smile. She lifted her hand, his eyes rolling down to it. The cold steel of her dragonhead knife was against his jugular. Even if his thumb was pressing down on her carotid, threatening to cut off her oxygen, she knew he wouldn’t. Just like he knew she wouldn’t kill him. Draw blood maybe, but she could never kill him. “Darling, I think you forgot, it was I who said that.”

“Hmm.” He drew in her scent, nostrils flaring, and eyes going red again. The wolf, she noted, her skin prickling, and her body straining towards him. Not to break free, but to join him. There would be time for that later. His thumb dragged over her bottom lip and she darted her tongue out to touch it. He groaned, his nose pushing to hers, laugh deep in his chest. “You came looking for me.”

“I will always come looking for you.”

“I don’t want it.” His dark brows arched, the feral wolf flickering over his features again, hiding his obvious desire for her. She bucked her hips against him, reminding him. He laughed. “Peace offering, huh?” He immediately let her go and flicked the box towards her. He growled. “You stole that from me.”

“And I’m giving it back.” She opened the box, revealing the white wolf head pommel from the ancient Valyrian sword he kept in one of his many safehouses. She sighed. “I realized that it really belongs with you.”

“No, you realized no one would buy it.”

She shrugged, flicking the box towards him and he caught it one-handed, setting it down on a table behind him. “Po-tay-toe, Po-tah-toh.”

“I’m not joining you again.”

Ire flared, her eyes darkening to indigo. “I am no longer asking you nicely.”

“Funny was that what it was when you tried to kill me?”

Of course he would bring that up. She waved her hand dismissively. “It was an accident.”

Jon dragged the collar of his shirt down, pointing at a knife scar on his collarbone. “That is not an accident!”

“Oh yeah, well you stole from me!”

Now it was his turn to shrug it off. “That money needed to go to the Night’s Watch,” he mumbled, arms crossing over his chest.

They squared off against each other. This was not how she planned it to go, but nevertheless. She narrowed her eyes on him, staring. He stared back. No one blinked. Until they were at each other, grappling, tugging, and tearing at each other, mouths a frenzied clash of tongues and teeth. She drew his tongue in between her lips to slide along hers, moaning into his mouth when his large hands slipped from her shoulders to cup the sides of her breasts, straining in their cashmere sweater cage. She lifted herself against him, remembering every feel of him, every dent and ridge of muscle, every nervous quiver, and every bump and drag of scars.

He tore from her first, a hand tangled in her immaculate braids, fingers digging into the ridge of her skull, and another on her hip, holding her to him. “The answer is still no,” he whispered.

Dany shook her head, whispering. “You haven’t heard my proposition.”

“I’m out.”

“Even when I tell you the mark?”

He shook his head again, although she knew him. She’d known him since they were teenagers, misfits and unwanted, trying to scrap by on their wits and wiles. They had bled together, fought together, fucked and almost died together. They’d gone to jail together. She nibbled his lower lip again and he flinched, barely, but she felt it. He still wants to know. “No,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want it.”

She cocked her head, her fingers smoothing over his cheek, dropping to cover his heart with her palm. Eyes steady, breath even, she smiled again. “I need my second Jon. I need my partner.”

They all wanted her to bring in someone else. Even someone she might have worked with in the past, none of them matched to the trust she had with Jon Snow. He was her equal, the one she could trust above all else, the one who knew her deepest and darkest fears and desires. Jon Snow came from nothing like she had and built himself up. He was the only one she would ever feel comfortable doing this job with.

There was also the fact that she was still in love with him.

Trivial thing really, she lied to herself.

Whatever they said about him, she didn’t believe it. He was out, he was done, he’d gone straight…all lies. He was just like her. They were wild, they could not be tamed, and he could never settle for a boring law-abiding life.

The irony of Jon Snow was he was the most honorable criminal she had ever met.

“No.”

Now it was time for the final play. Her other hand cupped his head and fingers twirled with his hair at the base of his neck. “Even if I tell you that we’re going for the Targaryen crown and dragons?”

His dark eyes lifted to hers, his breath stilled. He said nothing.

Her tongue dabbed her upper lip, her pupils dilating wide, smile curving again. “The crown and the eggs will all be in a single location, for the Conquering Day Celebration, and Tywin Lannister himself will be there, to give a speech, to commemorate the day. Robert Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, and that little fucker Tyrion will all be in attendance.” She brushed her nose over his, whispering. “Can’t you feel it Jon? That wolf inside your heart? The one howling? What does he want?”

She knew what it wanted, just like he did. All she needed was for him to say it.

Jon closed his eyes, shivering, and his arms tightened around her. “Revenge,” he murmured. He didn’t need to say it but draining the Lannisters of their stolen riches would also be a bonus.

“Exactly.”

He gazed down at her, lips dropping to hers again, and she knew it. She knew before he even whispered the words to her, before he kissed her and before they decided to start talking terms.

“When do we start?”

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfiction #jonerys drabble #criminals jonerys #robin hood jonerys #had to get this out of my system

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tortoisesshells · 4 years ago

Note

#7 for Nellie but also for Norrington (even though this ask is technically an OC meme) because he has for sure thought about it. Either in your canon-verse Customs and Duties or the modern AU one.

SO. I failed at writing a playlist. But I did write a one-off about Modern AU Nellie and Sam/Samuel talking about what to play at his funeral, which covers some possible suggestions for songs at a funeral. Sam isn’t taking it seriously.

Aunt B had taken the kids with her and Uncle Bendish to New York City for the day, to see the Museum of Natural History and the holiday displays at Macy’s and go skating in Rockefeller Center; that gave Nellie time to help Sam to the couch and put a series of corny holiday movies on in the background –

And to catch up on her laundry. Who knew that having two children on the town swim-team would mean washing, somehow, thirty towels a week? Her marriage, apparently, was temporary, but the kingdom of Maytag and Whirlpool was forever.

Under the cut, for some blunt references to cancer, and Nellie’s foul-languaged internal monologue.

It was a good day; there hadn’t been many of those of late. Sam’s nausea subsided early and easily, and he’d choked down some toast and been thoroughly delighted by the tackiest fleece hat (shaped like a lobster, a fucking lobster, she was going to murder John for sending that except that Sam was part of the majority of patients diagnosed with glioblastoma that were going to die within a year and they were paying through the fucking nose for the privilege of him just dying a little more fucking slowly, so Polly and Sam Jr. could have one more Christmas with their Dad – so where the fuck was the money to fly to Nassau to smack her brother upside the head going to come from?) he’d ever seen. Aunt B had taken the kids with her and Uncle Bendish to New York City for the day, to see the Museum of Natural History and the holiday displays at Macy’s and go skating in Rockefeller Center; that gave Nellie time to help Sam to the couch and put a series of corny holiday movies on in the background –

“I’ve been thinking,” said Sam, when she came back to the living room with another basket of towels under her arm, playing keep-away from Hotspurr, who was hellbent on getting his fuzzy little butt in the Basket of Warm.

“About,” Nellie squinted at the screen, “Shirley Temple?”

“No. I can’t stand grenadine syrup.”

“Sam.”

Her husband laughed – weakly, but still maybe seventy percent as big as it had been at that party twelve years ago – and held out his hand to her. “About music. ‘I’ll be Seeing You.’ “

Fuck.

The bottom dropped out of Nellie’s stomach, and she faked a sneeze to stick her face in some knock-off Kleenex until she was sure she wasn’t crying. “At a funeral, that sounds vaguely threatening, darling. I can’t guarantee my jackass brother –”

“Which one?” asked Sam, shaking his head from side to side so the red fleece claws of his new lobster hat bobbed. She mentally cursed John again, though pretty toothlessly.

“Peter. I can’t guarantee Peter won’t try to stake you with a song like that.”

“That would be dinner and a show. You think he’d like ‘Highway to Hell’ better?”

“He’d certainly feel more self-righteous afterwards,” Nellie replied, chewing her lip, “John will laugh. I don’t think – I don’t think Polly and Sam will get it.”

“Polly’s ten, and Sam was born thirty. They’ll get it, Nell.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Amazing Grace’?”

“If you promise me the biggest, loudest, most obnoxious pipe band you can find, you can have them play ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance’ for all I care. Here – give me some of those towels. I’m good for a few of ‘em.”

She passed off exactly two, and sat with the Moana one spread out across her lap, watching teenage Shirley Temple defend her holiday party dress to her horrified parents as a morale-booster for her GI date; it was hard to think of her as the same little kid chirping ‘Animal Crackers’ while she was looking at the equally young soldier like ‘Sixty Minute Man’ was stuck on repeat in her head.

There wasn’t anything she was going to want to hear that day. Ruth, her new and aptly-named therapist, had suggested that something familiar, without any deep meaning to Sam or her marriage would be best; but it seemed too cold to b–

To send him off without something meaningful, wasn’t it? Not just some fucking platitudes about missing him, or him going to his rest, or whatever John Groban made so much money singing about. But then, she’d never want to listen to it again – not after listening on her way to a fucking hole in the ground, even a nice, expensive one in the cemetery by the river, with its looping paths and manicured lawns and old weeping willows. It’d all look nice in the spring, she knew, but at the present rate of progression, he’d be dead before Valentine’s Day.

#fic #my fic #customs and duties aus #buying time

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politicaltheatre · 3 years ago

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Empathy, pt.3

Let’s start with this: Jamal Kashshoggi was a man.

Do you remember him? He was a man, a human being, and like any of us he had hopes and dreams and memories.

He was also a journalist. After years of supporting the Saudi royal family and their authoritarian regime, he was murdered in 2018 for writing and speaking out against their abuses and, eventually, their war in Yemen. That was the version of him who fled Saudi Arabia, and the one who was marked for death by the Saudi crown prince he had once called a friend.

Last fall, the Saudi regime commuted the death sentences of the men it offered up as his murderers. Three months ago, an investigation confirmed that it was the Saudi Crown Prince, Mohammed bin Salman, who had ordered his death.

We’re forgetting him. Even now, reading this, we are already forgetting. We can’t help it. At least, we tell ourselves we can’t.

In many ways, Kashshoggi was a lot like Alexei Novalny. Novalny hasn’t left the news quite yet. Like Kashshoggi, he supported the corrupt, authoritarian regime in his country, Russia, before turning against it. The attempt on his life, by poison, failed. Barely. He’s still alive, locked up in a Russian prison, a cautionary tale for those daring to oppose Vladimir Putin.

How long before we’ve forgotten him, too?

It’s a lot to ask of ourselves, remembering everyone around us. Sure, in some abstract way most of us try, “Good will towards men,” and all that, but we have the luxury of looking away and of not having to commit ourselves to thinking of others the way those two men did.

For each of them, it was an inescapable empathy for the suffering of they saw around them that compelled them to risk their lives to draw attention to it. They did so knowing the cost.

That cost - personal loss, imprisonment, death - is enough to keep most of us looking away. So much of what we do is to enable us to look away, to keep unpleasant reality at a distance. When others are already physically far away, it only makes it that much harder for us to do the right thing.

Looking out past our borders, the world today is filled with men, women, and children suffering, more than a few at the hands of authoritarian regimes, and of them far too many paying that cost for standing up against abuse.

The most present case this past week, because videos on social media have made it impossible to ignore in ways that it has been, has been that of the Palestinians.

The facts of this latest series of abuses against them should not be in doubt. During the last days of Ramadan, Israelis began forcing Palestinians out of their homes in the Sheikh Jarrah district in East Jerusalem. This was followed in quick succession by Israeli troops occupying the Al-Aqsa mosque following a confrontation between Palestinians at the mosque for Friday prayers and Israelis celebrating the capture of the mosque in 1967.

This was all a deliberate provocation, beyond the aggressive offense of what the Israelis were doing. The timing of it, during the Muslim holy month while right wing Benjamin Netanyahu struggles to cling to power, was intended to add insult to injury.

It worked. Clearly.

Hamas, ever eager for an excuse to be violent and to be seen to be violent, gave an ultimatum that would make Netanyahu’s regime look weak if accepted, Netanyahu gratefully rejected it, and Hamas began firing rockets, knowing that Israel would escalate and retaliate with a kind of brutality that can only be described as criminal.

The unpleasant reality is that both political powers rely on perpetuating the conflict between them, doing so at the expense of the people they claim to want to serve and protect. And those people pay the cost of it.

Note, please, how I have avoided referring to those instigating these atrocities as Muslims or Jews. That they use their religions and their histories as justification for violence and abuse should not be taken as representative of either religion. If anything, it should be taken as a kind of cruel irony, or perhaps an insight into how the abused, as individuals or groups, can become abusers themselves.

Zionism is not Judaism. It never was and never will be. It grew out of two things: the technology-driven late 19th century belief by Europeans, and their North American “cousins”, in their right to colonial domination of non-Europeans; and the centuries-old, routine and systematic attacks on Jews - pogroms - especially in Central and Eastern Europe that led millions of Jews to flee for their lives, many of them to the United States.

The establishment of Israel in 1948 followed the same pattern: that same, late 19th century belief in the right to claim or assign ownership of others’ land - no matter that it had once belonged to your ancestors; and the routine and systematic attempted genocide of all Jews in Europe - the Holocaust - by Europeans who chose to believe Jews not to be Europeans but some other, lesser race from West Asia.

That, of course, has been the assigned role for Jews the world over: they are accepted as insiders when times are good and scapegoated as outsiders when times are bad. To be Jewish - I am - is to understand that this never quite goes away. There’s always somebody having a bad day, always a big lie ready for justification.

Technically, it is true that Jews are Asian, in the way that Palestinians are also Asian, and that Egyptians are, too, but also African because different people have had different maps which they used for different purposes at different times.

Also true is that these things are only true due to the arbitrary drawing of continental lines on maps made by Europeans, from the ancient Greeks to those carving up the “New World” in the century after Columbus to the 1885 conference in Berlin carving up Africa for colonial exploitation.

This is not, strictly speaking, a European thing. Every culture has a tendency to see themselves as the center of the world. Just ask those living in China, or as they call it, Zhongguo, the “Middle Kingdom”.

The difference here is that modern day Israel was carved out of Palestine, a colonial “protectorate” which was itself carved out of the Ottoman Empire and awarded to the British following World War I. As a spoil of war, formerly-Ottoman Iraq, with its vast oil reserves, had greater value to the British. Palestine had ports on the Mediterranean - “the center of the world” - but was otherwise an afterthought.

Not, however, to the Jews fleeing Nazi Germany. We must remember that the rest of the world didn’t want them. Jews attempting to flee the atrocity they and everyone else couldn’t help but see coming were turned away by everyone else, including the United States.

This in no way justifies what was done in Palestine in the 1930s and 40s, it’s just to place it in context. By turning Jews away, by attempting to forget them and their suffering, the world gave weight and power to right wing groups within the refugees.

Starting in the 1930s, those groups began to engage in terrorism against Arabs to force their position into Palestine and against the British to force them out. Irgun Zvai Leumi (National Military Organization) and later the Stern Gang carried out assassinations and killed hundreds of Arabs and British with bombs.

After what the Nazis did to the Jews in Europe, memorialized in newsreels for all the world to see, who would take the Arabs’ side? Who could? The British were in no position to hold onto their colonial possessions anywhere, so they gave up and pulled out and in 1948 the state of Israel was born. Palestinian Arabs were forced from their homes and stripped of rights they had held under the Ottomans and even the British.

Again, this was not Judaism. As the name “Irgun” suggests, those terrorists were a right wing, nationalist militia doing what right wing, nationalist militias have done before and since, using an ethnic or religious identity to justify committing atrocities to take land and property.

After standing by and allowing the Nazis to do what they did, the world vowed never to forget; part of the price they were willing to pay - that they were willing to allow the Palestinian Arabs to pay - was to forget what Irgun and the Stern Gang had done, and to turn a blind eye to anything the Israelis did going forward.

There was a racist element to it, to be sure. This is part of the pattern of colonial withdrawal, negotiating a partition of land and possessions among the colonized groups, pitting them against each other, and then letting them fend for themselves. Nothing like creating a power vacuum to draw out the worst of us.

The British did the same thing in South Asia in 1947, pitting Muslim and Hindu groups against each other, erupting in spasms of violence before settling into a Cold War, complete with nuclear weapons. Even in their most secular eras, religious nationalism has defined the politics and leadership of each nation.

The result of this, naturally, has been an increasingly corrupt leadership exploiting religious hatred and mistrust to gain more power and wealth for themselves. It should be noted, yet again, that the political entities of Pakistan and India, though led by religious nationalists, do not represent Islam or Hinduism.

Their actions and failures do not represent those religions in any way. They are the actions and failures of men and women seeking power, seeking to acquire it and seeking to hold onto it. They are no different than the Netanyahu regime or Hamas, or our own right wing leaders in the United States.

For all of them, it is in their interest to cling to memory of conflict as a means of manipulation; in Israel and Palestine, nationalist leaders preach as if 1948 or 1967 are now; in India and Pakistan, it’s still 1947; and for America’s white nationalists, it’s either 1865 or 1965, take your pick. For the Serbs slaughtering thousands of Muslims in Srebrenica twenty-six years ago, it was 1389, the year the Ottomans conquered the Balkans.

The wars, cold or hot, can never end because time is never allowed to change. This, again, is a function of proximity. By freezing themselves in the increasingly distant past, the leaders and those choosing to follow them do not have to accept the changes facing them in the present. Their fantasy is to return to that idyllic, earlier time, when they possessed everything and did not have to be accountable to anyone.

And they will all fail for the same reason: in the present or near future, we will have reached a point at which we can no longer allow ourselves to ignore those suffering and in doing so forget them.

That is what we have done to the Palestinians. What has been done and what is being done now is in no small part because we forget them, routinely and systematically and purposefully.

The videos sent from Gaza of children being pulled from rubble should help us remember. They should. Ideally, they will have the same effect as those of last year’s Black Live Matter protests, but the people of Gaza remain far away. For many of us, it will be enough that the missiles and rockets have stopped.

Videos sent from India’s emergency rooms and crematoria should help us remember, but they, too, remain far away. Already, we’re starting to put India’s crisis behind us.

Will we remember either of them a month from now? Two? Or will they fade into the background, as the imprisoned Hong Kong democracy protesters have, or those dying of Covid-19 in Brazil, or those shot down in the streets fighting police brutality in Columbia, or those caught between warring factions in Ethiopia’s Tigray region? Or, for that matter, those half a century ago in Argentina who were simply “disappeared”?

What about the coup in Myanmar? Remember that? How about the ethnic cleansing of the Muslim Rohingya people, supported by the now-deposed and jailed regime of fallen-hero Aung San Suu Kyi? What was done to them was no different than what was done to the Armenians in what is now eastern Turkey by the Ottoman Empire in 1915. That genocide was recently recognized by President Biden, an act of official, international recognition that took over a century and which itself is already being forgotten. The Rohingya may have to wait as long to be remembered themselves, or longer.

The point of all this isn’t that we forget, try as we might, but that despite it we find ways to remember. That Biden recognized the Armenians came because they did not forget and did not allow that crime to be forgotten.

If this sounds like what nationalists all claim to do themselves - always demanding that everyone remember this date or that insult - remember that actual justice never seems to be their goal.

Justice requires memory, full memory. For us to remember anything fully, we must take the good with the bad. We must recognize the good and bad in each of us and in each group and in each series of actions. We must understand that for the worst act done by anyone in the name of any group or religion, there remain those within those groups and religions who stand against it.

So, let’s end with this: George Floyd

George Floyd was a man, a human being, and like any of us he had hopes and dreams and memories. He died one year ago today in no small part because we forgot him.

We remember now, today especially, because of what was done to him on this date, but we should recognize the role that forgetting him and people like him played in the events that led to his murder. We as a society have looked away from the suffering of minorities in this country, and from the violence done to certain groups within our society.

The easiest thing to say, certainly as we watched that video and the countless videos of police brutalizing non-violent protesters all last summer, was that “all cops are bad”. They aren’t. Hard as it may be to hear, they aren’t.

They are, however, led by men and women who push an adversarial culture, who encourage violence and racism, who are corrupt, and who thrive on the failure of reform. And most of them, far, far too many, stand by in silence as men and women are murdered in that culture’s name. In that silence, they have failed us all.

If we want to change that culture, we need those who would stand for justice to stand up and speak. They are there, just as they are in Israel and Palestine, and in Pakistan and India and elsewhere: intimidated, ostracized, and struggling to be heard.

Of course, May 25th, 2020 wasn’t just any other day in America. It was Memorial Day. That is a cruel irony. Another is how little we do to honor that day. It was created to honor those who died for this country, to remember not only them but what they did and what they supposedly did it for. Instead, we grill meats and drink beer and forget our troubles for just one day.

Few deaths may have the lasting impact on this country that George Floyd’s has had and will have, and he died in no small part because he, too, had been forgotten. This coming Memorial Day, let us take a moment to remember him and all of the others everywhere in this world who have died and deserve to be remembered.

- Daniel Ward

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