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cheriecelestial · 5 months ago

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Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated.

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature.

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard.

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off.

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black.

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated]

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise.

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ?

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying.

“Son ? Can you hear me ?”

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?”

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

[System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

#jacob black’s self saving system #jbsss #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #scum villain #twilight #jacob black #bella swan #edward cullen #luo binghe #shen quingqiu #svsss #mxtx svsss #mxtx #ducky if you’re seeing this just know I owe you my life and firstborn

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beomboomboom · 10 months ago

Text

Red String Theory

genre: fluff, extablished relationship

pairing: Minghao x reader

summary: Maybe you and Minghao have been connected by the red string of fate this entire time, you've just never realized it.

warnings: none! :D

note: The amount of writing inspiration i've been feeling these past few days is insane 🫠. Enjoy the fic <33

"awww~ was this your first crush?" Minghao questions with a teasing look on his face when he flips through your childhood photo album.

Curious as to what he's talking about, you look over to Minghao's lap where the photo album sits.

In the picture he points to, your 5-year-old self sits on a picnic blanket as you stare trance-like at a boy in the corner. There's a light pink blush settled on your cheeks and a small smile playing on your lips.

"oh- I remember him. I used to follow him everywhere. I think I probably had a crush on him back then," you reminisce with a laugh. "I wonder where he is now."

Suddenly Minghao squints his eyes, a flash of recognition appears as he looks at the boy in the photo. "Hey...I used to wear that shirt all the time."

"No way," you say with a laugh. "Imagine if you're the boy I used to have a crush on as a kid," you say jokingly before looking intently at the boy in the photo again. "Now that I think about it, you do kind of look like him."

"That's the haircut I used to have as a kid too..." Minghao states as he observes the photo further, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Wait a second, let me get something," Minghao says as he goes to his room and comes out seconds later with his phone in his hand.

Peering over his shoulder, you watch as Minghao sits beside you and hurriedly scrolls through his camera roll, until he stops at a picture of his younger self.

No way.

There right in front of you, on your boyfriend's phone, is the same exact boy from the picture. Everything from his toothy grin to his tousled hair are identical.

"No way, you're my childhood crush?!" you screech as your hand covers your mouth in disbelief. Minghao simply bursts into tiny giggles at your response. "No way," he keeps repeating in between bursts of giggles.

"Why didn't I realize it was you?!" you say, distraught. When you lean forward to re-look at the photo, to check that your eyes aren't deceiving you, you suddenly notice a familiar figure in the background. "hey wait, that's me in the background. That's toy I would always drag around with me when I was, like, 5."

Minghao laughs in disbelief before replying, "it's like the red string theory."

"The what??"

"The red string theory," Minghao repeats. "it's where you and your soulmate are connected by a red string, and you're bound to meet this person at some point in your life. And sometimes you'll meet or pass by your soulmate but it's not the right time for you guys to become lovers yet."

"Oh my gosh, and now we met at the right time. That's so cute," you say with a fond smile.

"I think my soulmate is cuter though," Minghao replies cheekily with a wink before blushing in secondhand embarrassment at the cliche line.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao fluff #minghao fanfic #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao imagines #minghao x you #minghao x y/n #xu minghao x you #xu minghao fanfic

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eloquentlytired · 1 month ago

Text

SFW.

old! logan howlett x gn!reader — the sailor.

summary: You visit your village for summer vacation with your parents. And then you meet the sailor.

word count: 1.5k

warnings(?): dad logan, angsty and kinda sad, hurt to comfort, no smut, yes they kiss in like two days okay let me live, I just made this to cry tbh, sweet in the end

note: I felt inspired at 4:46am so now this came out, haven't re-checked for mistakes so pls don't kill me, kinda rushed

Vacation at the village is always fun when there's so many things happening.

Gossip. Yelling. Bickering. Throng. Bad comments. Distant relatives you've never met, or met as a baby, that you're expected to somehow still remember.

It's definitely all the things that you hate altogether and at the same time everything that overwhelms you. No matter how much time passes.

You find yourself by the sea, walking with a book in your hand. You remember this view vividly and how much comfort it used to provide you with. Now it's just another pretty view but at least there are no voices here to disturb you. You much prefer a seagull’s cry than your family’s at this point.

You walk for what feels like a few minutes when in reality it's over an hour.

The sunset is glorious and watching the sea swallow the sun makes your eyes beam with envy.

You see a single boat in the distance, nothing unusual, but it's the only thing illuminating the dark waters once the sun sets.

There's not much to see. You sit there for a while and quietly watch as the boat continues its destination. As you walk away, you wonder what that destination might be.

It's almost fateful to find a single boat anchored where you'd been the previous night. The waters were crystal clear now and the boat floated on the waves calmly.

You took in its old appearance — it looked like it'd seen better days. Despite that, the worn out letters of the ship’s title and the faded colour made it seem a little charming.

It was odd that something so old and tortured could be so lovely.

“I cannot remember a single person that would sit under the scorching sun to stare at this trash.” A gruff voice said behind you.

You turned fast, clearly startled by the sudden approach.

The man who'd spoken to you — perhaps as old and disheveled as this boat — huffed in amusement.

“I think she's lovely.” You tell him and he seems surprised.

“She’s old and ugly. Not much different than her captain.” He murmurs while his hand pats the faded white wood of the boat.

There's not much to say as the strange man jumps into his boat and starts stacking up some boxes. You watch him grunt a lot, maybe rub his knuckles across his back a few times too.

It feels painful just to see him bend.

“Maybe you could use some help.” The words leave your mouth effortlessly but what surprises you most is his response.

That hard gaze that settles on you and the way he pauses to simply stare before going back to what he's doing.

You distance yourself from the dock and your mind wanders to the embarrassing interaction.

Despite wanting to throw yourself out of the window, you learn that the man you've indirectly insulted is named Logan.

“He’s a good man and sailor.” Your father says one day while pouring himself some orange juice. Your mom reads her book quietly by the window but she listens to him too.

“He seems a little... unpleasant.” You can't help but mutter while you read your work emails through your phone — they're piling up terribly fast.

You almost miss your father talking to you until his finger snap takes away your attention. “What?”

“I asked if you know about the name of his boat.” Your father quirks an eyebrow and he almost asks as if he's challenging you for something.

“Laura.” You mumble, remembering the faded letters on the boat.

“That’s his daughter’s name. She died last year but the man never speaks about it.” Your dad’s response makes both you and your mother's head turn towards him.

He gets the cue and continues.

“Perhaps we could cheer him up a little. Invite him over.” You know where this is going and you don't like it.

You still don't like it as you march towards Logan Howlett’s home. The road is easy and short, and his house is neater than you expect. On the outside that is.

“What?” You can hear the growl in his voice before he opens the door. When he does, he gives you that stare again and you have no idea what he means by it.

“My parents would like to invite you to dinner.” You mumble awkwardly and for a second you forget that you're a grown working person with the ability to make decisions for yourself.

Logan seems to ponder over it.

His fingers scratch his chin over his beard and his eyes appear red as if he's barely slept. Definitely as tortured as his boat.

“Listen. You don't have to—”

“I’ll come.”

Well. And he does.

The walk from Logan's house to yours isn't very bad. You never talk which is bad yes but at least he doesn't stare at you as if he wants to wack you anymore.

The dinner starts off nice. People sitting around and praying — Logan doesn't — and then eating.

You pull yourself away from the table full of your parents, loud relatives and Logan so you can sit with your younger cousins.

It’s going well. The chattering, the nice food and you wiping the food stains off your baby cousin who simply giggles in return. It's a good night until you hear the question drop.

“What about you, Logan? Got any kids? A wife?”

The silence is deafening and you turn your head around slowly to see what's happening.

You don't know if there's another person in this world that hates this more than you do. That feeling you don't want to name, those expressions you don't want to see. It's the worst because it's so evident too — written all over their faces. It's everywhere in their body language too. The awkward cough, the subtle hand brushes and the elbow swings. The eyes. Their pity.

Before you know it, you're rising from your seat and your eyes fall at your bitter Aunt— you know the one who always makes family dinner bad.

“Aunt Jodi.” You call out, drawing attention on you. “Dad tells me you got your fifth divorce on March. Happy holidays.”

She fumes, the others try to soothe her and you go. You notice Logan departing too, maybe running after you.

Your legs guide you to that dock for whatever reason. It's dumb but it somehow manages to soothe your nerves as you sit on the rocky surface and allow your feet to wiggle over the water.

The sun hasn't set yet and once again the view is beautiful.

“Not very nice to insult your family.” He doesn't startle you this time, you kind of expected him to be there.

You unconsciously scoot over and Logan sits next to you grunting.

“Careful. I might insult you next.” You murmur teasingly and for the first time you notice a smile on him. A faint one but still there.

“You know about her?” He suddenly asks and his distant gaze somehow makes you understand.

“About your daughter?” You murmur and he nods. “Only that she's passed and well... Her name.”

You look at the boat while he stares at the setting sun.

“She was everything. Loved the sea and wanted to come with me always but I'd never let her. She was so little.” You didn't dare look his way as he spoke, reminiscing his story. “Well, one day, I did it. I let her come with me and we took the boat for a ride. The weather got messy and shit and..”

It didn't take much to hear the ache in his tone. The desperation. Your heart clenched and you felt your eyes burning — this is who you were. Feeling what people felt. Maybe a little worse sometimes.

“Tried to save her. I failed.” The sun had set out long ago and the moon was high again.

Logan looked at you, at your twitching shoulders that indicated your silent sobs and huffed a little.

“No one’s ever cried for me.” He finds himself adding.

“I’m just..” Your voice shakes but Logan waits patiently, doesn't rush you. “I’m crying because of that boat. It's so ugly.”

You hope he laughs and he does. You do too.

“At least make it pretty for her before she haunts you.” You mumble through your tears and finally look at him, eyes glassy.

His hand is cold when it brushes against your cheek, wiping away a few tears. You lean into the touch quietly.

“I think she's blessed me.” Logan tells you while your gazes meet and you can't help but feel he's right in a way.

His hand wraps around your nape and tugs you forward. When your lips meet his, you close your eyes and savor the passing moment as the sea crashes quietly around you.

Your fingers reach for the wrinkles by his eyes and you touch him there as he claims your lips again — murmuring words you barely catch. Pretty. Sweet. Kind.

In the end,

it still seems so odd that something so old and tortured could be so lovely.

#old!logan howlett #old logan howlett x reader #old man logan x reader #old man logan #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #old logan #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett angst #logan howlett #eloquentlytired

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withoutyouimsaskia · 11 months ago

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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frvnkcastles · 6 months ago

Note

The fluffiest of fluffs perhaps🙃☝🏼

Sunshine!Reader who works at an office and goes out spontaneously during lunch to cut her long hair into a cute bob and She’s super excited to come home and show Frank her new hairstyle.

Also love your writing your amazing.🩵🩵

STUCK IN THE SUNSHINE RIPTIDE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You get a new haircut and Frank loves it.

Warnings: Feminine nicknames, fluff, THAT’S IT!!

Word count: 1.1k

Author’s note: I was soooo excited to write something soft!! Thank you anon for the request and for the kind words <3 Also, I’m a bob girly for sure and have been for as long as I can remember so I’m so here for picturing Frank as a fan of it.

It was a completely impulsive decision made in a fleeting moment of curiosity and intrigue, but damn it, you were a victim to your whims. It had started when you had had a quiet moment during your workday and you had scrolled through Pinterest for cute pictures of cats — the usual — when you had suddenly been flooded with inspiration for shorter hairstyles. You couldn’t tell where it was all coming from, but you supposed it was fate or some kind of a sign, one that took over your brain far too easily.

You had had long hair for years, and you had liked it that way. Frank loved it too, always caressing and playing with it, and he had even retaught himself how to do braids. But you couldn’t deny having shorter hair would have its advantages, and you thought you could pull it off well enough. If not, it would just grow back, right?

You convinced yourself quickly enough, and once your lunch break started, you were bolting out of the office and straight to your salon, lucking out considering it wasn’t too far from work. Your good fortune only continued when you made it inside and discovered the place to be empty from customers, but your trusted hairdresser was sweeping the floors, just waiting for someone to come in.

Five minutes later, you were seated with the cape shielding your chest, your giddiness smiling back at you from the long mirror in front of you while your hairdresser prepared the scissors. You felt a little ridiculous and daring, but you liked to think it was just spontaneous, not impulsive — something you always told yourself when you took a leap like this, but this time, you were sure you weren’t going to regret it.

The whole time your hairdresser cut and styled your hair, you couldn’t stop thinking about Frank and what he was going to say. He had always been supportive, always finding the right thing to say if you showed up home with a new hair color or just a switch in styles. You knew he would love you, regardless, but you still felt the buzz of nervous butterflies in the pit of your stomach at the thought of his face when he’d see you.

When it was done, you couldn’t get your grin off of your face. You admired yourself in the mirror, your hands incessantly touching your new bob and your confidence skyrocketing. You felt like a new person, re-energized and revitalized, and you thanked your hairdresser a million times, feeling like it was one hundred percent money well-spent.

You were overjoyed and excited as you got back to work, the only thing on your mind being getting home and showing Frank. The day dragged on as you anticipated clocking out, but with praise from your co-workers, the hours finally ticked by and you were soon headed to your and Frank’s shared apartment. This was a familiar routine, you being utterly enthusiastic about something and talking Frank’s ear off, and him nodding along, a fond smile on his own face as he watched you gush. It made you indescribably happy that he never seemed to get sick or tired of you, he never judged you and he always, always listened to what you had to say.

Stepping inside your apartment, you began kicking off your shoes. ”Frank? I’m home”, you called out, the excitement obvious in your voice as you shrugged off your jacket next, hanging it up by the door you made sure to lock behind you.

”In the kitchen, sweetheart”, he responded, and smiling already, you made your way to him, only to find him stirring a pot on the stove with a kitchen towel thrown across his shoulder — a perfectly domestic sight that melted your heart and almost made you forget what you were so thrilled about.

He didn’t look at you at first, focused on the pasta in the pot, but he acknowledged you verbally. ”How was your day, sweet girl?” he questioned, casual and caring as he wondered the same thing he did every day.

”It was good. I did something kind of exciting on my lunch break”, you dropped hints, waiting for him to look at you and realize, amusement on your face as he stood there, clueless.

”Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked, finally looking up at you, his eyes immediately widening. ”Shit, sweetheart”, he exhaled, amazement spreading across his features as he took in the sight of you, eyes darting from side to side to fully appreciate every cropped inch of your new hair.

”Well, what do you think?” you giggled, shy under his scanning stare, and chuckling himself, Frank dropped the wooden spoon into the pot and stepped closer to you. His hands snuck to your hips and he tilted his head at you to curiously survey you, a smile spreading over his lips.

”Christ, you got me all flustered and shit. Speechless, baby. You look fuckin’ stunnin’, that’s what I think. My gorgeous girl”, he complimented you with sincerity, one of his hands coming up to carefully run his hands through your hair, feeling it for himself.

You blushed and ducked your head down, and he took the opportunity to press a kiss on your forehead. ”Makin’ me feel all sorts of things over here, beautiful. What inspired this?” he queried, his deep voice making you shiver, especially when it was so thick with attraction and admiration. He clearly really, really liked the haircut, and it drove you crazy to know that.

”It was pretty much just a whim. Saw some pictures online and thought I could use a change”, you shrugged, truly glad that you had given in to the impulsive urges inside you, because clearly, it had paid off.

”Well, it was a pretty good goddamn idea. Can’t get enough of this”, Frank agreed, his hand travelling up the back of your neck and gliding through your hair; allowing him to get a gentle but firm grip as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips hot and heavy on yours. It was needy and full of fire and passion and it set something ablaze within you, a burning want that you figured Frank was feeling, too.

He was all over you the rest of the night, too. You two spent the evening watching a movie on TV, woven into one big mass on the couch and he refused to stop caressing your hair, his fingers carding through the short strands again and again.

Safe to say, he loved it, and so did you.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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blonndiec · 3 months ago

Text

🍃 Of Murphy's Law (of Destiny), Grieving and the Duality of Luck 🍃

With the re-release of Murphy’s Law (of Destiny) and gearing up for Yuuri’s day one-shot, I figured it’d be a good time to share how this story came to be and what inspired it. You could say that this is part of my creative process, as sometimes my brain works as if creating a 365 pitch or putting together a mood-board with colliding ideas to create a concept.

Some of the context: I officially joined the fandom this January (unofficially, it’s been about a year), and in March, something massive hit. Everything I knew felt like it shattered, and I turned to writing and making art as a way to get through it.

Murphy’s Law (of Destiny) came out of that moment—a really low point, the lowest in all this life process. It was the time when I kept thinking —and hoping, desperately— about how sometimes the absolute worst days might actually be leading to something way bigger and better, like the universe’s twisted version of a “double butterfly effect.” That whole concept of the worst things happening before something better was a bit of hope I held onto. But at the same time, life, as cruel as it may seem, just keeps moving on for the rest of the world while you’re stuck in this phase, going through it. To some other people, what feels like your lowest point could even be their best time, and feels like you’re watching their joy on the other side of a glass. It’s so crude, yet it’s real—life doesn’t stop, and that reality can be both harsh and grounding.

I was in the thick of grieving, constantly thinking about those concepts and life experiences, especially because you have no control, and it feels totally random.

Writing was my way of handling the mix of numbness and tangled-up thoughts I was feeling. I tried to get a grip on my emotions by grounding everything in logic—facts, science, data, numbers...whatever made sense—because what was happening inside was a mess of thoughts and empty feelings that didn’t.

This contrast of grounding something as abstract as “destiny” in logic isn’t new to me, either. I grew up binge-watching documentaries and reading science books (it’s also how I learned English, go figure). At the time, looking at destiny through a scientific lens just made sense—like a buffer against all the chaotic feelings I was dealing with.

Murphy’s Law (of Destiny) became my way to explore this idea: sometimes, the worst things in life are just one side of the coin, leading to something better on the flip side. By examining fate through logic, Viktor’s world is reframed as a series of catalysts and reactions, making even the worst experiences stepping stones toward an unseen “other side.” Viktor’s chaotic day, filled with humiliating stumbles and unforeseen disasters, symbolizes a struggle to piece together meaning from seemingly senseless pain.

What surprised me most was how much people resonated with it.

Since writing Murphy’s Law, I’ve been working on stories about “the other side of the coin”—how I’m slowly finding my way out of that dark place and noticing the bright spots again. There’s something comforting in realizing that even the worst moments we go through can end up opening doors we didn’t know were there. So if Murphy’s Law (of Destiny) resonates with you, maybe it’s because sometimes, what feels like a disaster might just be the start of something you end up grateful for, even if it’s wrapped in the messiest package.🌠

Have you ever had a moment that felt like that, only to realize later it opened up something unexpectedly positive? 💖 I’d love to hear your thoughts on those 'other side of the coin' experiences. 💖

Also, if you haven't read it yet, you can read Murphy’s Law (of Destiny) here.

#creative process #creative writing #writing #yoi #yuri on ice #ユーリ!!! on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yuri!!!on ice #yoi fanfiction #Viktor Nikiforov #Victor Nikiforov #Katsuki Yuuri #Yuuri Katsuki #Vikturi #Viktuuri #Victuri #Victuuri #personal #about me

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lavishl0ve · 1 year ago

Text

🩸 Johnny Slaughter x Fem Reader 🩸

!disclaimer!

I love Johnny and he low-key inspired me to write something. This is my first “fic” and is a decent length (lol), if y’all are interested in the full story please lmk!! (btw nothing spicy in this first part- sorry 😔) Thank and enjoy.💋💋

Part 1: The Cellar

Oh God, stay quiet… I silence my whimpers pushing my hand against my mouth as I watch the skinned face wearing man run around frantically. Each rev of his chainsaw had made me flinch. I slowly shift myself in the shadows hoping to avoid detection, the tall grass covering my view. The sky is painted with tones of tangerine complimented by flesh-colors. The longer time seems to pass the more I seem unable to move. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut hoping to escape reality, the darkness only paints pictures in my head. Julie. Hanging on that meat hook in that red room. I suddenly feel a wetness dripping down my cheek. We didn't deserve any of this, especially not her and God knows where the others are. I just hope they're safe. The others. I have to do this for them, I have to escape. Adrenaline seems to rush through me, I peek my head above the grass searching around hoping for a clear shot. No sign of them. I slowly ascend and sneak towards what seems to be the closest exit. I dive back into a patch of grass as I hear the sound of the chainsaw approaching again. The sounds accompanied with female screams… Ana’s screams. My body makes its own decision and suddenly I flee from the grass patch running towards the gated fence, the sky darkening. Keep running Y/N. Just keep running. Tears blur my vision as the scream becomes distant for each pace I run. I shouldn't, I can't help doing so, only hoping to confirm reality. I look behind my shoulder, that man drilling the chainsaw through her abdomen, her blue tank top now red. Stained with her own blood. I run faster but can't help to look away. A loud snap erupts from beneath me; fire engulfs my right leg and I trip over. My ankle caught in some bone contraption it had cut deep, deep enough to see tissue. That man sensed the sound, revving up his stalled chainsaw, I look back panicking and quickening my pace to release myself. The pain is horrific. Blood drips into my shoes and I limp towards that gate. No. The faint symbol of a red padlock is tightened around the gate. I won't make it. I scream out in pain hoping for the slightest bit of hope. A deteriorating wooden barn. Maybe I can hide there. I shift my direction pulling my leg along with me as that man approaches. I ran through the large doors, the barn still in darkness. I looked behind again, that man hadn't been able to squeeze through the crawl space I shimmied through. I have distance. I’ll be okay. I face forward and crash into a hard surface. I fall back onto the floor and my vision blurs. Blood rushing to my brain, fumbling the noise around me, the chainsaw re-approaching and the laugh of a man in front of me, faint footsteps walk toward me, the orange hues of the sky paint out his features. My vision is blurry, I can only map out his sleeveless tank top, and his slicked hair…? He grips a knife in his right hand. He crouches down his arms wrapping around my waist. I groan out in pain. His hard chest instituted a throbbing headache, my head pounding. He leans forward toward my face.

“Oh, I’m keeping you.” The man growls.

Then with a effortless hurl he throws me over his shoulder. My sight goes foggy. I can’t lose consciousness now. Stay awake. With each step the man takes his shoulder digs deeper into my stomach. I can't seem to stay awake. No need to fight back anymore. This is my fate.

“S’okay, I got er’ boy.” The man says, “Put that chainsaw to use. Find the other one.”

A low moan had replied from the man with the chainsaw, like an agreement. Wait- the other one…? Leland! He’s still alive! I cry out, putting each ounce of strength into my punches trying to knock myself down from the man's shoulder.

“No need to fight me on this Darlin’. You’ll just make it harder for yourself.” He remarks.

I grunt still trying to fight back. I’ve done no damage to anything but myself. I feel my energy slip away along with my consciousness…

—------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the cold beneath me, I sit on the wet concrete ground. My vision clears, I look above, my wrists had been tied to the wall. I pull against the rope hoping to loosen them. I feel my blood circulation cutting off, my hands are numbing. It’s too tight and I can't seem to make any wiggle room. I look around hoping for some sort of tool I can use. Nothing. The cell just contains a worn-out mattress. Just great. I crawl over on the mattress hoping it’ll bring me more comfort than the cold floor. It’s better…I guess. I sit in silence, my head against the stone wall for what feels like an eternity. I fumble with my shirt. My shirt- it’s different. Damn. That outfit I had on was my favorite. Now I’m stuck in this worn out oversized black shirt. Realization had hit me, they changed my clothes, had that man undressed me? Shivers ran through my veins; I disregard the thought. Suddenly a woman skips in front of my cell giggling whilst peeking through. I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Aww, you’se caught yourself an aw’fully purty one.” The woman remarked.

She dragged her razor blade along the iron bars making a scraping sound, hitting each bar. Laughing mockingly.

“Leave the girl alone Sissy.” The man approached.

The same man from earlier had stood next to the woman supposedly named Sissy. He jumbled his keys, standing in front of the lock for the cellar.

“Ain’tcha got things to do??” The man says sternly.

“You ain’t no fun Johnny.” She replies, clicking her tongue and walking away.

Johnny inserts the key into the lock, twisting it and sliding the cell door open. Then closes it behind him. I find myself backing against the corner, the cold shooting through my spine once my bottom contacts with the cold floor again. Johnny turns around, walks over toward the mattress and sits down, his arms resting on his knees. I sat a few inches away from him. Completely defenseless. He shifts his head toward the left a bit, enough only so he could see me. I stare down at the ground avoiding eye contact. He analyzes me for a while. Complete silence.

“You can look at me y’know?” He breaks the silence.

I feel tears dwelling in my eyes, “What do you want?”

“Ain’t no need to be cryin’ sweetheart, ‘m not gonna hurt ya’...” He trails off.

He removes some sort of compact tin from his jean pocket, following a roll of gauze...? He places them on the mattress and gestures to my leg where I’d been caught. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s motioning towards. I look down and realize my leg has been wrapped up. I gasp slightly, surprised he wouldn't have just let me rot. I scoot forward slowly allowing him to have access to my ankle, I watch slowly as he unwraps the bandage trying to see the damage that was done. I hiss once the cold air touches the wound.

“Those damn traps he be makin’,” he laughs shaking his head, “Work a lil’ too well.”

Johnny then grabs the tin container from his side, it contains some sort of topical cream. He rubs two fingers into the paste and rubs it over the wound.

“Ah-” I groan in pain. The topical stinging my cut.

“You’se all right sweetheart.” He reassures me.

I shut my eyes, furrowing my brows waiting for the stinging to be over. I can feel the gauze wrapping lightly around my ankle. For a man that had brought me and held me captive in their basement Johnny's surprisingly gentle. I can't tell why but, I find myself ease around him a bit.

“Johnny-” I speak,

He looks up at me inquisitive, like I said something wrong. He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“...why are you helping me?”

He chuckles to himself; a piece of his hair drops in front of his face.

“Can’t have our food spoiled now, can we?” He looks up.

My eyes widen at his response, I try and jerk my leg away, but his grip stays firm, his calloused hands keeping me from backing away.

“I was jokin’.”

He finishes tying up the gauze and rises to his feet. He leaves, re-locking the cell door. And then again, I’m left in the cell waiting, thinking. I try to stand seeing where I am, yet can’t reach the front of the cell, my wrists beginning to burn from all the tugging on the rope. I stop, throwing myself on the rough mattress. My dreams ought to be better than this place, right?

————————————————————————

#johnny tcm #tcm #johnny x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm x reader #leland tcm #tcm game #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #fanfic #x reader #julie tcm #ana tcm

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sufferu · 9 days ago

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Two things:

One of my main peeves is that you're accusing Subaru of "abusing" RBD, when in reality he's just using it to save the people he loves. Of course, if he was able to save others without using it, he would. What do you think then, should Subaru do when faced with the death of his loved ones?

That's also one of the reasons I asked you about Shirou Emiya from Fate. His brand of heroism can be summarized in two sentences "I want to save everyone I can see" and "As long as others can be saved, I don't care what happens to me" , both of which is always portrayed as a bad thing. But the idea is that, while the way he views it and applies it is wrong - the idea of saving others is what's beautiful, and that's what counts. How do you think this applies to the lens and themes of Re Zero, since you claim that the idea of self sacrifice is condemned in it?

I really don’t feel like it’s anywhere near a hot take to say that Re:Zero is anti-utilitarian or condemns the idea of self-sacrifice. I mean, so much of the story is about how Subaru relying on Return By Death would be a Very Bad Thing, and how him loving himself just as he loves other people is important. It’s like, the crux of his character arc. Saying “Subaru SHOULD be using RBD to save his loved ones, because the sacrifice of a single person is trumped by the sacrifice of many” is a valid position to take — a very utilitarian one, really — but it is not the position that the story is taking. And I very much like that about Re:Zero because 1) its narrative feels a lot kinder, frankly, and thus I tend to find it more cathartic, and 2) it is a very unique take within this genre of fiction. Most other stories within this genre don’t paint being a hero as a bad thing, or self-sacrifice as much other than noble. That’s the basic status quo here. And I actually don’t think that there’s anything wrong with being generic — those stories can still be fun — but I do appreciate that Re:Zero is taking a more unique angle on the question.

But more than that: different stories have different narrative angles. A lot of the time, you’re not going to get the same themes and messages from every story in a way that allows them to be easily transferred from one to the other. Sometimes they even respond to one another: while I’ve never watched Fate, I do know that Tappei took inspiration from Fate while creating Re:Zero — and because of that, I wouldn’t be shocked if he was making a counterargument to Fate’s idea of heroism through his own work. Anyway, Fate doing one thing doesn’t mean Re:Zero isn’t doing another. And I quite like what Re:Zero is doing here, so I tend to try and adhere to its themes within my own fanfic writing.

(Also, secret third reason: I think the attitude that Re:Zero takes here is a lot more respectful to the reality of suicide and self-harm. Like — those concepts aren’t really all that abstract to some of us, lol, and a huge part of the reason I was drawn to Re:Zero was its handling of that subject matter. Return By Death not only necessarily involves the subjects of both self-harm and suicide: it straight up invites the comparison to the real-life issue on several occasions. This is just a reality of the work. If it were to turn around and turn those very personal topics into a generic fantasy story — if it had done that from the start I might have been able to roll my eyes and take it as a generic edgy power fantasy or w/e, but if it started doing that NOW, after several arcs of treating them with a genuine amount of care, I would very likely throw the book at the wall and storm off to never come back.)

#meta #my inbox #me tag #now that’s what i call a dogshow

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paperbackribs · 1 year ago

Text

Witch Steve

(working title)

next: Chapter 2: The Aftermath

So 👉👈 You were all so encouraging that I was inspired to write 14 chapters of Witch Steve. This will eventually be going up on Ao3, but while I'm finishing it up and re-editing I'll post the start of it all on Tumblr. Chapter content: steddie to come, platonic stobin, ~2K words.

Edit/Update: This is a 15 chapter fic. Ao3 here.

Chapter 1 The Sacrifice

Robin fiddles with the vodka bottle full of gasoline in her hands, “…in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

She sighs, stuffing one of their rags into the mouth of the clear glass and completing their next Molotov cocktail. Steve watches the resignation on her face and thinks that if anyone deserves to have a moment of love and joy in the face of the world ending, it’s Robin.

It’s all of them, he reflects, looking out onto the grassy clearing.

The forest of trees behind Lucas and Erica reminds him of where they will be taking their battle to shortly. Vecna waiting in the Upside Down like a venomous spider in his web. Manipulating the troubled emotions and frightening visions of his victims, ready to break them in more than one way for his selfish desires.

Exuberant laughter draws his eyes over Nancy tailoring her weapon to Dustin as he dodges Eddie’s outstretched hands. Fondness rises within Steve like the warmth of rising bread. The fading sun frames the two boys as Eddie speaks earnestly into Dustin’s grinning face, the bond between them obvious even from here.

“Maybe it’s not the time for romance,” he admits, pensive as he watches Eddie tackle Dustin to the ground with a cackle. “But isn't love the most important thing when it is the end of the world.”

Robin knocks her knees amicably against his and he knows that this is her way of saying she loves him. He smiles back at her; he loves her too. He says it silently because he does, more than he can say at this moment. The words heavy and stuck at the back of his throat.

He wishes she could have had her moment with Vickie before they face the coming danger. The fragility of their situation leaves him with a disturbing feeling of unease churning in his gut.

It’s the fear of losing Robin that further feeds into Steve’s increasing sense of foreboding, making his teeth clench and nails dig into his palms. He has to Know, Steve decides; he needs to make sure there is hope for a later where love and romance can be indulged.

In the heart of the quiet afternoon, Steve allows the sounds of the boys roughhousing and Erica’s sharp, but not unkind, words to become muffled. While he relaxes his fists and Robin fades from his sight, Steve unfurls his uncanny gift to see into the murky depths of their futures. He hears a soft, haunting melody reaching out to him through the ethereal and a glimmering sheen covers his vision.

Like a weaver of fate, he gently unravels the white threads of destiny that intertwine around the lives of those he cherishes. Even Eddie, new to the party but just as entrenched in their fight, running scared; yet Steve thinks, just as courageously meeting the more experienced members toe to toe.

And it is only Eddie’s fate that gleams a terrible ox-blood red, a twisted tapestry of the future revealing a grim reality. Steve’s unease deepens as he Sees two roads diverging before Eddie, each leading to vastly different destinies.

One road, he is unsurprised to find, is golden bright and brilliant, full of joy, love, and friendship. This Eddie would be the guiding light for those he loves and who will love him just as fiercely as he holds them to his heart.

Steve swallows over the hard knot in his throat at the thought of all the beauty that is stolen if Eddie loses that path: because the other is shrouded in a terrible darkness.

If Eddie chooses this road, a jagged tear will be torn through the tapestry of too many lives. An unravelling thread that leads to the frayed fabric of its survivors in a way that Steve thinks the self-deprecating Eddie would never suspect.

Aside from family, only one other person knows Steve’s truth. Keeps his secret close to her breast, alongside twin confessions on a bathroom floor. Robin haltingly refusing Steve’s advances to favour Tammy Thompson and Steve blurting out that he comes from a long line of Witches. Taught at his nana’s knee and made to understand that this is something just as private to him as Robin understands her sexuality to be to her.

He watches Dustin’s wide smile, still innocent amongst a grim collection of dark moments, and Knows that this will be a turning point for his young friend. One in which Dustin lives a life spirited and mirthful or another irrecoverable scarred and linked to a critical event of grief and regret. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine and he decides he can’t stand idly by, watching as Eddie teeters on the precipice of these two divergent paths.

Drawing from long lessons of heritage and the power he and his kind hold, Steve decides on a potent action that will allow him to weave a new pattern.

---

Scarlet lightning roars in the darkness behind Eddie and Dustin as the boys wait for Steve, Robin and Nancy to depart and attack Vecna. The trailer behind the boys is tightly wrapped in the sinister vines of the Upside Down and the smell of sulphur rains down with the grey ash that coats the world in a bitter blanket. Steve watches the ghostly flakes drift onto the cloud of Eddie’s bound-back hair, and he knows that this is the moment that he readied for.

Steve reaches out to Eddie with his uncanny gift — a glass sphere, like a marble, is cradled innocently at the centre of his hand. It is as big as an apricot pit and strangely swirls with warm browns and flecks of gold, like the gentle play of sunlight flickering through to a forest floor. Steve holds his open palm out to Eddie, his hazel eyes filled with a heartfelt entreaty.

"Eddie," he asks softly, "take the marble and swallow it. Please, trust me."

Even in the short time that Steve has known Eddie, he gets that the other guy isn’t known for his impulse control. Despite this, he’s still somewhat surprised when Eddie, with no hesitation, takes the marble and swallows it down. Doe-eyed pools of warm brown look up at him through dark bangs.

“I do,” Eddie shrugs with a mysterious smile.

“What was that” Dustin shrieks, the faux military tags he had insisted on wearing jingling in agitation.

Robin stays silent behind him; Steve knows she’s holding her questions for later, having cottoned onto that he was up to something mystical when he’d hidden in the RV for a while. Only clasping his arm briefly in support when he had walked past, sweating and still pale.

Nancy though is just as surprised as Dustin and looks on at them suspiciously.

Eddie knocks an arm lightly into Dustin’s side, “I don’t know, but it tastes like hot chocolate. Warm,” he chuckles softly, “even comforting.” He turns questioning eyes back to Steve, “but, yeah, what was that?”

Steve feels how tight his smile is. “A little insurance.”

He talks to both of them, trying to instil them to obey by the force of his words alone. Knows that Dustin can be a stubborn little shit. “Just… if this goes south, I mean, at all. You abort.” But his focus turns, inevitably, to Eddie. “Don’t be a hero, man. Okay?”

A flash of emotion crosses Eddie’s face too quickly for Steve to understand before he slings an arm around Dustin’s skinny shoulders. “Of course, look at us. We are not heroes.” Under his hoodie and headband, Dustin grimaces in agreement.

The deep feeling of foreboding in his gut is untouched by their reassurance, but Steve doesn’t bother to unravel his Sight again. He’s done what he can and now he follows the girls to battle Vecna and maybe free them all from this nightmare once and for damn good.

As they travel through the dark forest, neither girl notices the small glowing pulse that Steve presses to each of them. The marks fade softly before the other can notice it. Transported by a light brush over Nancy’s tight shoulders and a firm squeeze of Robin’s sweaty hand in his.

The attack against Vecna is fierce but the three of them have never struck more certain or true. Steve with his axe, Robin and her cocktails, and Nancy with the shorn-off shotgun. Their attacks land every time and between their physical assault and Max’s diversion, something must go right because the world shudders once, then twice, but stays steady before Vecna screams harshly and his pale, grotesque body falls broken to floor. His web of terror finally shattered.

The rest of the decrepit house, vines and all, quickly catch from the blazing gasoline and the three stumble after each other, racing to the still-rancid outdoor air. But it’s air free of Vecna and that makes it all the sweeter.

With a whoop, Robin jumps into Steve’s waiting arms and breathlessly he swings her in joy. Resting his forehead on hers, he knows she can see every nuance of his relief, sensing him finally releasing the suffocating fear of the Upside Down. “This is it, Robin. I can feel it.” Steve exclaims.

Robin’s blue eyes, which sometimes can be so cynical for a person this young, gleam in belief. Belief in Steve and that he can See the truth of it all. She wraps her hands around his shoulders and is shaking in a combination of comfort and ebbing adrenalin. “Thank god,” she breathes.

“Let’s hope so,” Nancy interrupts. But she’s looking on at them with a small smile.

Steve knows it will take a long time for her to believe that it is true. And she doesn’t have the benefit of Steve’s Knowing as they do. But she’ll get there, he thinks. Much like it will take them all time to heal, they will. And the kids will bounce back, he thinks with faith. They’ve been made to be too resilient for children their age but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless.

It’s at the thought of Dustin that Steve remembers Eddie and those two paths he had seen; he urges the girls on, back to the uncanny version of the trailer park. Impatience sparking through to his fingertips.

They’ve not quite reached it yet when Steve hears the haunting cries of anguish that echo through the empty forest and roads of the Upside Down.

Dustin is hunched over the still-warm but devastatingly motionless body of his beloved Dungeon Master and friend. Bright red blood spills everywhere, coating Dustin's hands and across his face where he has smeared a hand over his cheeks. Eyes filled with tears and pain, Dustin looks up at Steve and cries out that the older boy had tried to save him.

“He said he didn’t run, Steve. But he did. He did. He ran to the demo-bats and they— they—"

Dustin starts hiccupping between tears and short, frantic breaths. He grabs at Eddie’s camouflage jacket, shaking the body as if it will jolt the older boy awake.

“Eddie!” Dustin cries. His voice, often bigger and louder than his short body would seem, breaks through the empty quiet of the Upside Down. No more swarming bats or jagged bolts of red lightning to distract from the palpable sense of grief saturating into their tired bodies. The only cruel answer is the flakes of ash gathering over Eddie’s unresponsive body like this terrible world is already trying to bury him away.

Steve’s heart is breaking, he feels the crack of it cleanly through his chest and in the thickening at the back of his throat and burning behind his eyes. But he is not powerless; this is exactly what he prepared for.

With a firm, yet gentle hand, Steve unlocks Dustin’s stiff fingers and shifts him into Nancy’s waiting embrace. She tries to turn him in her arms, but Dustin refuses to look away.

Nancy must think that Steve is going to quietly close the lids over Eddie’s blank eyes, which should be bright and expressive; eyes that were full of mischief just hours ago. Or that Steve will try to pick up the body and take it back with them, impossible as it seems in the moment, to think of carrying a heavy and limp weight vertically and against gravity where climbing through the Upside Down gates, with only their own bodies to support them, had been hard enough.

He’s not going to do any of those things, Steve thinks fiercely. He won’t need to.

With an unwavering determination, Steve drops to his knees and pushes his left hand down, through and deep into the realm of the mystical, until he finds an answering beat, a corresponding warmth. He pulls, straining with every ounce of physical and spiritual strength he possesses. A pearlescent light suddenly pushes out from Steve's link to Eddie, it pours unendingly into the dark landscape before pulsing sharply. The ethereal cuts precisely through the unclean atmosphere before rapidly shrinking back into the connection between the two boys.

Steve's own spirit is being drained, a live wire shooting up his arm and threading through every vein of his body in a white, blinding heat. But Steve knows that it is in this critical moment where he could lose his own body and soul, where the world hangs in the balance between life and death, that something miraculous can happen.

And it does.

Eddie draws a shuddering breath and his eyelids flutter open. His chest starts to rise even as his gaze looks unsteadily out into the living world once more.

“Steve?” he whispers hoarsely.

“I’ve got you, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, checking that the wounds are healing under the slick blood. His left arm is numb, but he uses the shaking right to examine Eddie’s torso where jagged gashes are rapidly closing over.

“It’s all right, we’ll get you help, you’re gonna be okay."

“No, Steve, your eyes…” Eddie lifts a shaking finger to touch Steve’s face, leaving a red fingerprint behind to mark Steve with the very essence of his mortal life.

Steve knows what he must see since this has worked. Because reality is not the same as when Eddie had closed his eyes for seemingly the last time. As Eddie returned from the brink of death, Steve now sees the world through one rich hazel eye, while the other will remain forever white and sightless, an eerie testament to the price paid to mend the shattered threads of destiny.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Taglist

My taglist is always open so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed let me know too. :) If I've missed you, definitely let me know because it's an accident!

@a-gae-af-racoon

@a-lovely-craziness

@aly-reads-alot

@bookworm0690

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@everyrandomthing

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@hallucinatedjosten

@ilikeititspretty

@just-a-tiny-void

@ledleaf

@littlewildflowerkitten

@lostonceandneverfound

@manda-panda-monium

@matchingbatbites

@nburkhardt

@newtstabber

@obliosworld

@oliver-sykes

@probablyscreamingintothevoid

@rajumat

@scoops-stevie

@spectrum-spectre

@tartarusknight

@whackyrach

#witchsteve #steddie #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #paperbackribs writing

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gandalfsalt · 4 months ago

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Solavellan Angst and Dido & Aeneas

Here's an "essay" (more like notes) I wrote about a year ago after finishing Trespasser, and surprisingly it holds up ok! You can watch a video essay version on my TikTok @gandalfs_alt. I think the video version is a bit more polished because I wrote it yesterday, this old one is pretty rough.

Unfortunately no citations... feels weird to post w/o citations. Future posts I think I will start citing my sources.

A great love story that I see relating to Solavellan is the story of Dido and Aeneas. This story is even older than Tristan and Isolde, dating back to ancient Rome (specifically Virgil’s The Aeneid, completed in 19 BCE, about 2000 years ago). It is widely considered the archetypal love story that symbolizes the tension between love and duty in Western literature.

Dido was the Queen of Carthage, a city located in North Africa. In some versions she is a sorceress, and she is beloved by her people. Aeneas was a Trojan hero who escaped the fall of Troy. Aeneas and his fellow Trojans fled across the Mediterranean Sea after the fall of Troy. They landed in Carthage, and were welcomed by Dido, who offered them hospitality.

Dido and Aeneas spend a significant amount of time together, and fall deeply in love. Over time their love became increasingly intense. In some versions they marry. However, Jupiter (Zeus), the king of the gods, sends the messenger god Mercury (Hermes) to remind Aeneas of his duty to establish a new homeland in Italy (what becomes modern day Rome). After contemplating staying by Dido’s side, Aeneas feels that he must fulfill his divine mission to re-establish his homeland and he abandons Dido, departing for Italy.

Dido is devastated by Aeneas’ departure. In her anguish, Dido constructs a funeral pyre, on which she places Aeneas's belongings, including a sword he had left behind. She then took her own life by falling on the sword. Aeneas, unaware of Dido's fate, continues his journey to Italy, where he eventually fulfills his destiny and founds the city that would become Rome.

I think some of the parallels are pretty clear. A mysterious wandering hero fleeing the aftermath of a fallen civilization joins up with a group of people and falls in love with their leader. He then abandons said leader to fulfill what he believes is his divine mission, which is to re-establish what has fallen in a new place.

There’s two ways I think this story is helpful for understanding Solas, Lavellan, or Solavellan:

It has inspired so much art, we can look at how other artists have handled this theme to get insights into the characters, learn more about them, and learn about different ways this conflict (love vs duty) can be interpreted or represented.

If this story did in fact inspire the DA:I writers, learning more about it can possibly help uncover where they may take Solavellan in DA:D (dear god, I hope they don’t go the Dido route with Lavellan, pls no 😭)

Even though Solas is a pretty clear Aeneas type, I actually see him share a lot of attributes with Dido as well. One of the most famous versions of Dido and Aeneas is an opera (yes, opera again, lol) composed by Henry Purcell in 1689. It is one of the first operas composed in English, and is pretty much considered the premiere retelling of the Dido/Aeneas story in the English language. One of the most famous pieces from the opera is Dido’s Lament, and it’s the song Dido sings after she decides she can’t live without Aeneas, and is about to, literally, fall on a sword.

The lyrics of Dido’s lament are:

More I would, but Death invades me:

Death is now a welcome guest.

When I am laid, am laid in earth,

May my wrongs create no trouble, no

trouble in thy breast;

Remember me! Remember me! But ah!

forget my fate.

To me, this is 100% Solas’s psychological state when he leaves Lavellan. The lament is obviously very tragic and sad, but there’s something extremely stubborn and self-centered about it. It feels like a lot of self-imposed misery. In Dido’s case, she was certainly wronged by Aeneas, she was treated very unfairly and it’s not her fault at all, but her reaction to it is very self-pitying and self-sabotaging, literally and figuratively. I got the same feelings from Solas during his final confrontation with Lavellan.

“Death invades me, Death is now a welcome guest,” - Wait a minute, who says anyone has to die? Why is dying the only option here, Dido and Solas?

“May my wrongs create no trouble in thy breast,” - It seems like Dido and Aeneas have the option not to commit these wrongs or additional wrongs, so why act all stubborn and resigned about it?

The “wrong” I think Dido is referencing is her impending suicide. Solas may be referencing the same thing if he knows he is going to die, but in his case destroying the world and loving then leaving Lavellan are some other wrongs. But again, based on what we know, it seems like he has the option to stay and not destroy the world a second time. So why so stubborn?

“Remember me! But forget my fate.” My dudes. It seems to us like you’re choosing this fate. And you think we can remember you and not remember how you left us? You want Aeneas/Lavellan to hold the torch, but just forget a very monumental decision you made? That’s a little delusional. This line is so simple, but it does an excellent job of underscoring the conflict between love and sense of duty. In both cases, the heroine/hero want to be remembered by the ones they love, but at the same time they don’t want their choices to impact their lovers, or their lover’s recollection of them. Which really is impossible.

#dragon age #solas #solavellan #solas dragon age #solasmance #dragon age inquisition

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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Lights Masterlist

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?

❀ Word Count: 583 and counting

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Series Warnings: Eventual sexual content, explicit language, substance abuse, toxic relationships, manipulation, drama, and heavy angst, depictions of depression and anxiety. This series will explore concepts of the ‘darker’ side of being famous and being in the music industry. It is not an essay on the culture of idols nor does this attempt to draw some sort of conclusion or comparisons to the real music industry or life of idols. This is just something that was inspired by my re-watch of Gossip Girl and listening to The Weeknd and wanting to write about a toxic relationship between fame and self.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series in no way attempts to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions as a whole. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction.

Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Tag Lists

▷ e p i s o d e z e r o . . . p l a y n o w

▷ e p i s o d e o n e . . . p l a y n o w

II n e x t e p i s o d e . . . l o a d i n g

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #idolverse au #minors do not interact #minors dni #jungkook series

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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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Re: making homemade porn w your loser elf bestie FNSKFKSODKE GOD YOUR BRAIN IS SO HUGE AND WRINKLED!!! I deeply enjoy how one of this biggest degenerate losers in the forum falls off the face of the planet for a few weeks, comes back with a human partner, and suddenly the whole forum is like “our human 👁️👁️”

Now I am thinking more about bullying him for the camera. Sipping the thought of sitting astride him while slowly grinding on his cock and watching how red his face gets like it’s fine wine. Delighting in how his eyes get hazy and he babbles so desperately in whatever language his poor porn rotted brain can conjure up in the moment. He’s so cute when he’s losing his mind over the way your insides feel wrapped around his dick while the camera peers between your legs and watches him barely slide in and out of you. A witness to how just a bit of tight human hole makes such an elegant, graceful creature fall apart at the seams and lapse into an animalistic state. Yeah sure the two of you may take inspiration from the large amount of suggestions you get, but honestly this is your favorite way to have him <3

As an aside I NEED more of your thoughts on the people on the forum getting on his nerves and making him, dare I say, possessive? 👀 It’s one thing for him to willingly show you off, it’s another to have others so brashly ask to borrow you. I wonder if we would ever accidentally get a peek at some of the online messages that refer to him as our boyfriend 👀

(I also have some cute fluffy ideas for this pornbrained loser but this ask is already so long, I sowrry 🙈)

—🩵 Anon

"O u r Human 👁 👁" XKSJKSJXJAKAJX i love your humour

Honestly, if he also stayed a lone loser on the forum and never met you, then he'd have the same reaction to someone else bringing a human there.

He is aware it was mere fate and chance that you chose him, pure luck. That's why he doesn't feel bad about being a bit selfish and never fully showing you the forum or suggestions.

Like yes, these people are his community and were there for him when normal elf porn websites removed their human category after some some public backlash. These forums were the only reason he could even experience sexual pleasure anymore.

But now he has you. A whole real human to himself. One so willing and enthusiastic about sleeping with him, he would be crazy to pay attention to anyone else.

On the fluffy side, you were also his first ever real friend, before he knew you were human. He really has spent his days with brainrot as he fell deeper and deeper into the porn addiction, his views on actual humans morphing and mixing with fantasy. The thing that helped bring him pleasure was also becoming an addiction that made it akin to impossible to make any friends.

But he met you online, also by fate, and the two of you clicked. Played video games together or chatted by texts for hours deep into the night. He has replied to the weird memes you've sent him at 3am almost immediately since he never has the need to sleep.

You became another source of happiness for him, a true blessing he thanked Corellon for everyday.

He was so excited to meet you, preparing an entire day of fun things you can do together. But you just had to be the most attractive human he has ever seen, huh?

And yet you didn't reject him or think he was weird when he couldn't keep his obsession from showing, your insides felt so amazing as you held him close and whispered praises into his ear with every thrust.

Indulging him with your body and making him almost pass out from happiness, his heart was immediately yours to do whatever you wished to with. Even if you squeezed it and stepped on it, he'd thank you and find it the hottest thing ever.

The forums became a thing of the past, his human magazines that he spent so much of his salary on collecting and getting every new edition the day it dropped, are now forgotten and collecting dust.

He's very clingy and is a sad mess whenever you leave his apartment to go back to your home, you haven't invited him over yet so he has to helplessly wait until the next time you come over.

Coaxing you to stay whilst eating you out, using every trick in the book he can think of to convince you on why it's better to just spend the night at his place. If you want to stuff then he is ready to drive you there and back here just to get them, you don't have to lift a finger and be his lovely passenger princess.

Although, now his salary goes into funding this homemade porn new habit of his. Buying only the best of the toys for you, the highest quality vibratiors and lingerie that's tailored to your body.

He gets off using them whenever you're not around, watching a past video of you fucking yourself with these toys as he does the same. Just the idea of them having been used by a human gets him on the edge, but the fact you were that human specifically is what gets him to cum whilst crying your name.

You're very eager to film with him. He notices the way your lips curl from humiliating him on camera, softly bullying him as you tease and edge his cock. Making him fuck you with the slowest pace possible and turning him from a respectful noble high elf, into a desperate needy pathetic whore who needs his cock inside you to function.

Elves known for their grace and wisdom. The fact he has lived way more than a century and yet you reduced him to an animalistic state as he fucks you with all of his power.

High elves call sex lovemaking instead, consider it to be a joining of soul that's full of love passion and gentleness like no other. Yet he is leaving his marks along your body, squeezing your thighs so hard until his handprints stay there, kissing and sucking on your neck and throat so he can spend the whole night admiring his work while you sleep.

Sometimes during your sleep, you do hear a wet sound besides you, heavy breathing and a muffled moans as he strokes his cock, rubbing at the head to quietly get off. He doesn't dare touch you while you sleep, merely laying besides you in agony at never being able to get off on his own no matter how many times he fucks his own fist.

Your smell is everywhere too, that human scen that your kind is blissfully unaware of. He can smell it on his clothes that he lets you borrow, pillow cases and sheets.

Even his home office isn't free from it, as much as he tries to keep that space neat and tidy in case of a video call work meeting, he just couldn't refuse your request to tie him to his office chair and suck him off while he tries not to cum.

He gets the same heated feeling between his legs whenever he sits in that chair since then, clearing his throat and hiding his tenting hard cock under his desk from the camera on his work laptop. Keeping the facade of being a calm, collected noble elf.

More on the fluffy moments, he found out he likes having his ears petted gently because of your curiosity that one time. Usually elf ears are off limit since the pointer they are, the more a show of pride they represent.

Elves are discouraged to touch their ears or anyone's because of that, since they were children. Parents would tell their kids that their ears would flop or stay in weire shapes if they let others touch them.

But you just did it one day, without regard. Asking if you can try something and just reaching out towards his face. At first he panicked when he realised it was his ears, but then it felt...good.

Your touches were gentle, comforting. He found himself relaxing and leaning into you, not even caring if this is considered inappropriate. Human hands are really soft and round in comparison to elves, almost like these hands were made for the sole purpose of petting things.

Another time, you two found each other by mere chance at a supermarket while shopping. He usually avoids all humans and never looks them in the eyes, but he couldn't look away from you since the second he recognised you.

The two of you spent the afternoon shopping for groceries together, getting to know each other's food preference and actually having a good time. It reminded him that he never lost the friend he made in you, that sex never made you view him differently.

He took note of a particular snack or drink in your cart. The next time you went to visit him, he had it in his fridge for you. He isn't very good at cooking, but sometimes he shares elven dishes with you.

They're heavy on the vegetables and spices, and each dish prefers complexity rather than simplicity. He knows the tastes might be too intense for humans so he prepared a watered down version of it for you.

You make the mistake of kissing him after it, and just the taste of the original dish on his lips sends your tastebuds into alarm. One flavour after another invading your sense, it's like everything all at once was pushed to the limit. He confesses that magic is involved in making that dish to intensify the spices, but he rubs your back as you chug water afterwards to try and wash it out.

One time, you accidentally mixed your glasses and took a sip of elvish alcohol, a single small sip. You were hungover for three days after and had to take time off work. He stayed by your side in bed and nursed you back to health. Thankfully, the cantrip he was born with does alleviate pain and refresh the mind.

He admits he finds it adorable, how humans are oversensitive to so many "normal things". Like a fresh breath of life trying things for the first time.

As for the possessive side, he'd probably get really defensive about you on these forums. Claiming since he is your "boyfriend" then he has every right to be protective of you and never allow anyone else the chance to contact or meet you.

He doesn't think less of you for sleeping with him or being friends with benfits. It is one of the many things he really admires about humans and find unimaginably hot. Even if you never start a relationship with him, he will die happily knowing he was your boytoy for all of your lifetime.

What he hates is the potential that he might lose you to someone else. That other human enthusiasts like him no doubt also find these things hot about you and would want a piece for themselves.

And it's making him more possessive of you, feeling more entitled to the videos you two film. Half of them he doesn't actually share on the forums and just saves for himself. He took editing courses on the side to learn how to fully make your identity untraceable so that none of them gets the chance to find you let alone your online accounts.

#♡🩵anon #♡human reader #♡human kink #♡modern au human kink #♡modern loser high elf #♡smut #♡fluff

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a-tiny-teez · 1 year ago

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Behind the scenes

Yandere Director OC X Fem reader

Part 1

Warning : 18+ content,MDNI, age gap, yandere themes, kidnapping,power imbalance, implied non-con, slight slow burn, reader is in her mid twenties and yandere Director is in his late thirties.

1:34 AM

The sound of the clock ticking away could be heard as you continue to type away on the keyboard.The last few scenes of the work you've been working on are going to be completed and with new inspiration you continue . Pulling all nighters , dumping strong coffee in your system and an unhealthy amount of rest has been your life for the last six months.

The purrs of your beloved cat taking your attention for a slight bit was actually quite good for your eyes as looking at a screen for a long time strained your eyes heavily. You looked at your cat with a smile. “ Just a bit left baby ”.It wasn't that you had a deadline. It's just that you loved your work. Your friends often made jokes about your intense workaholic routine but you just laughed them off.

“ At this point you're gonna have to marry your own character” , your friend Becky said laughing.

“ Wouldn't be bad you know” ,you smirked at her and she shook her head with a smile.

Being a playwright was your dream that you accomplished just a few years ago. Doing part time jobs and studying were most of the things you did during your college days. So although you were completely new to this field of work , you have gained quite a good amount of fame. Some of your work has been appreciated by the audience and the rookie playwright of the year award was a great feat of accomplishment of your whole life.

Now back to present, with the last word typed away you save your work and then send it to your beta to recheck everything. Stretching your arms out you yawned and finally stood up. Going over to your kitchen and opening a cabinet you pulled out a microwave ramen and decided to settle for it tonight. You decided tomorrow you'd go grocery shopping as you shivered watching the sorry state of fridge. After a few minutes you had your ramen while watching the tv . There was nothing much going on the tv at this time so you settled for a documentary show that was being re-broadcasted.

Oh , it's him. You thought as you slurped on the noodles. Spicey just as you liked it. The documentary was about a famous film director. You had seen him a few times during award shows. He was one of the most successful directors of the time and all of his films were successful as he got the best director awards quite a few times. It must be fate now that you came across this because you were just thinking about sending him your work. You doubted it'd be accepted but still it's worth a shot. You gotta keep trying in this field of job.

Hoping you'd at least have your work checked by him you turned off the TV and dumped the trash in the garbage can. Then after cleaning up you went to bed to get the sleep you very much needed.

____________________

“ I've finished rechecking. It's all good to send. Be assured”, said your beta, Alan .

“Alright. Done” you said clicking the send button. Now if it's accepted you'd get to meet the director and it'll be made into a film. Your genre this time matched with the kind of works he worked on so you hoped your work will get at least the recognition.

“ Man I hope I'll get accepted”

“ Don't worry. I have a good feeling about this and you worked really hard on this so don't lose hope” , reassured Alan. You smiled at him and hoped for the best.

“You wanna get lunch ? My treat.” You asked.

“Why not? Can't say no to free food”, he sheepishly smiled.

Alan was like your little brother. He's been with you ever since your first work and over the time you two bonded as if he was family. He was still a student from your alma mater and he looked up to you a lot. You were happy to have him appreciate you cause there were times when you felt despair but he was the one who always helped you get through tough times.

After eating and bidding Alan goodbye you went to the grocery store. Walking towards the aisle you remembered what you needed and put them in the cart. A carton of milk, eggs, vegetables, sausages ,Nutella oh and you were about to run out of coffee so a jar of coffee. Okay , that's all from here . Then you bought some cooking spices and other necessities. Checking everything you went to the cashier. Paying for everything you went out the store and a cold breeze passed by making you shiver. October was ending and it was getting colder. You pulled your coat closer and loaded your car then drove away to home as you planned on making dinner and having hot chocolate later.

_____________________

2 days later

The sound of luminary playing in the background could be heard as you were cleaning out your closet and filling it with warm clothes. It was one of your favourite soundtracks. It was just so beautiful and gave you lots of ideas.

You remember the earlier phone call. You still couldn't believe it. Dominic Albero read your script and he wanted to have a meeting with you. His assistant called and made you aware about the appointment which is tomorrow night. You're so happy right now. You can't believe your work got recognized by THE director everyone wants to work with. You informed Alan about this and boy was he so enthralled with the situation. He wished you best of luck for tomorrow and you decided you'd celebrate with him if your work gets adapted tomorrow.

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possumeneb · 7 months ago

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Fabricated Blooms

Fabricated Blooms is a sort of fantasy Finn AU that takes place after the love of his life dies. (Angst)

Disclaimer: mentions of bones and death (not bad tho). Also, I am not a writer and practically made this up in English class a few months ago. One last thing, this is mainly for my OC but I made it inclusive for others as well :3

This did not take any inspiration from the amazing desolation au made by @urpaperboy (sorry for the ping) which is a steampunk au focusing on alphonse and seth.

--------------------

It begins after the death, Finn had tried so many times to bring them back. So many nights and days that blended together as he pushed himself to find a way to awaken them again.

Out of pure desperation he did it, he created his sunflower again.

Wait, created? But I was trying to bring them back not Re-create Them! How could this be. it's not even them! It's just a pile of human bones rapped in plants and stone!

It's not them. it's not them. it's not THEM ITS NOT THEM ITS...

-----------------------

It's been a while since the golem was created, I don't pay much attention to it no more, its just a part of life now. It will watch me plant and even seem like it wants to help, I let it water the more durable plants from time to time.

Sometimes I would walk in on it trying to eat my veggies like a rabbit, only this is a 6 foot Eldritch creature made of magic,plants, and rock with no stomach. I had gotten upset and went to give it a good talking to.

That was the first time I actually talked to it, the first time I looked it In the eyes .... It's eyes held so much more emotions than I had thought, maybe it was my sunflower after all.....

No, Why would I think that?

--------------------------

What a fate, to be made with the feelings and love of a mans dead lover and never be loved back.

Your not really his sunflower, your just a product of his magic and desperation.

You'll never be them.

Never.

--------------------

#yuurivoice angst #angst #finn au #fabricated Blooms #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice #finn yuurivoice #yuurivoice finn au #au #writing #golem #fantasy #yuurivoice fan au #blooms #desolation #sunflower #yuurivoice oc #reader

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sandboxscenes · 1 year ago

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For you, I'd break the world.

A/N: It's my first time doing something like this. But this got a foothold in my brain and would not let me go. Inspired by this post from @skylovs and partly based on real life shenanigans with the 3.2 photo glitch a couple of months ago.

Honestly, Ayato was the main reason I started Genshin, and he was the first character that I went all in for.

-----

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

It should've been impossible for you to meet, but yet…

When you first saw Ayato in his trailer, he captured your heart. The mysteriously shrewd Yashiro commissioner, who operates in the the shadows - Kamisato Ayato. You weren't sure if it was the white official outfit he wore as part of the Kamisato Clan, his elegant movements, his personality, or his voice - equal parts calming and mysterious, that caught you, but you fell for him.

You were well aware of Ayato's status as the Yashiro Commissioner and the responsibilities it came with, and his sister, Ayaka, as the Shirasagi Himegi. In addition, you had devoured every single tidbit about him and the Kamisato clan that you could get your hands on. Even with the constraints of the game locking you out of his story quest, and even Inazuma, you read everything about him - his past, and his stories, and committed them to heart.

You wanted him.

You needed him.

And you were willing to break all of the rules to do so.

"If I can get to Inazuma without going past AR 25, I will pull for him. I want him. I won't ascend my world level until I get him."

The words quietly left your lips. It was a mantra of sorts. A phrase you'd say to yourself often, when you were exploring around the world of Teyvat.

For you, it was also a reminder of the goal that you set for yourself. Ayato's original banner had long since passed, but you were hoping that he would be getting a re-run soon. That singular piece of hope is why you were hunting. You wanted to gather enough primogems, in the hopes that he would come to you on a golden star.

When rumors swirled online regarding the reappearance of a glitch that would allow beginning players to make their way to the closed nation of Inazuma, you were intrigued.

A way to make it to Inazuma? Without getting struck by lighting? Impossible.

It must be too good to be true, you thought. You shook your head and heaved a heavy sigh. You weren't necessarily the best at video games in general, so the thought of being able to essentially break the game, by being somewhere where you weren't supposed to be was a hard ask. But you also couldn't help your curiosity.

After a few days, your curiosity won out, and you decided to put the glitch to the test. You watched endless tutorial videos on the glitch. After multiple failures, you ended up with a success, and watched as your character walked on air.

"Yes!" You loudly yelled as your character maneuvered around, defying gravity.

The success spurred a fire in you. You needed to repeat the conditions and do additional testing to master the glitch. But you did not care how many hours it would take. You were determined to travel to Inazuma, no matter what.

The first place you touched down in Inazuma after walking on air, was the Kamisato Estate. A fitting place for you to touch down. After unlocking the wavepoint right by the Kamisato Estate, you hunkered down and continued to hunt down primogems.

Then, the fated day of his banner arrived.

You opened up the wishing window. You took a deep breath. With all of the primogems that you gathered, you put your hands together and whispered a silent prayer. You clicked the button to wish, and you closed your eyes, hoping for a miracle.

The first ten pull you did, you saw a purple star shooting across the screen. Not him. You knew it was unlikely for you to meet him, but a part of you hoped that you could meet him immediately. That did not happen. Ten pulls turned into thirty pulls that turned into eighty Pulls, but still, he was nowhere to be found.

Your heart tightened. Anxiety swirled in your thoughts. Even though you knew that you had enough offerings for him, you made sure of it. You couldn't help when your thoughts turned doubtful.

"Why can't I get him? Why?"

Your muttered to no one in particular. You laid your head down on your desk as your eyes fell on the wishing screen in front of you. Ayato's visage seemed to be taunting you the more you looked at the screen. As if in a trance, your fingers lazily clicked the button for another ten pull.

Ninety pulls. Hard Pity.

You sat up with a start when you saw the golden star fly across the screen. The anticipation built up in your chest as you held your breath to see who would appear on your screen. One by one, the pulls were revealed. But you couldn't concentrate on them. You wanted to know if you could meet Ayato.

When the golden star was revealed to be the Yuheng of the Liyue Quixing, Kequing, your heart fell. You knew of Kequing and liked her fine enough, but she wasn't who you wanted. You wanted Ayato. You knew that if you continued your offerings, you would be able to meet him. But still, a small part of you disliked how things played out. You wanted Ayato to be the first one you met.

You laid your head down on the computer keyboard, as you mentally tried to psych yourself up enough to continue to pull. The keys dug into part of your face, but you didn't care.

"Ayato, please come home."

Your soft words floated on the air. You knew it was futile to say, but you couldn't help yourself. Perhaps, despite Genshin being a videogame, you wanted to lose yourself in the hope that he could hear you, and that your sentiments would reach him.

Ding!

The sound, followed by a blue notification, popped up on your computer, informing you that the computer was about to run out of battery. You looked around for the power cord. You plugged it into the computer, and felt a small shock jump up your arm. You looked at the cord and then at your hand. You flexed your hand to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. It felt fine.

That was weird.

Your computer had only been on for a few minutes, but it was weird how the battery drained so quickly. You knew that you played Genshin last night, but you were sure that you left charging before you went to bed. You thought so, at least. You shrugged. Maybe you are making a big deal out of nothing. Your memory may have been mistaken, and you forgot to plug it in last night. It was an honest mistake that you've done before.

"Alright, Ayato. I promise you, I'll bring you home. I'm ready."

Are you?

You hesitated for a second, before you shook your head. You thought you heard something, but dismissed it. Your mouse clicked the button as you started to wish once again. The pulls started to rack up - Ten, Twenty, Fifty, and then finally, nintety pulls. Hard pity again.

Despite your rotten luck, you couldn't help the grin on your face as you watched the golden star shoot across the screen. Your heartbeat rang in your ears. This is what you've been waiting for. When the shadows dissipated, you found yourself looking face to face at the handsome face of Yashiro Commissioner himself. The words slipped out of your mouth, unbidden.

"Hi, Ayato. Welcome home. I've been waiting forever to meet you."

Sorry for being late.

You blinked. There it was again. You couldn't help feeling uneasy. You thought you heard something - twice. But nothing seemed to be making noise around you.

You turned to face the screen again, and you were in the character menu, looking at Ayato. You were mesmerized as you watched him elegantly materialize his sword and sheath it. You swore that you saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye and sly smile on his lips. Or did you?

You blinked, and Ayato went into his other idle animation, the one where he was drinking Boba. You raised your eyebrow. You knew that you wanted to check out his idle animations after getting him, but it was odd how the game seemed to predict what you wanted to see. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn that he was aware of your presence, or worst yet, reading your mind.

Now that you think about it, when did you log out of the wishing screen?

You don't remember clicking the button to exit the screen.

You shrugged. Maybe it was just your laptop acting up again. Even laptop troubles couldn't dampen your mood now. You had Ayato now, and he was the one you wanted from the very beginning.

You outfitted him with all the gear that you saved for him, and started to play. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you could've sworn that you saw Ayato's strikes do even more damage. They seemed to take care of every obstacle you faced as a player.

"Thank you, Ayato."

My pleasure.

#Genshin SAGAU #SAGAU #Ayato Kamisato x Reader #Ayato x Reader #Library Shadows - Works #Genshin Impact

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