#i think just actually seeing it instead of just replaying it in my mind might help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 8 months ago

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pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

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Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!!

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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explodingchantry · 5 months ago

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Anders isn't my problematic fave because he isn't problematic. I think the wider concept of anders being 'wrong' the fandom has is a clear example of how biased the writing has been in the games. It's the same reason why people hate Jowan, or why they think the kinloch hold mages were stupid. There's a clear bias in the writing and framing of it all that guides the player towards feeling negatively.

The majority of answers you can give Jowan in Dao are negative, mocking, or downright insulting. The ones who aren't are just... Neutral. You can be a bit sympathetic to him in the circle origin but by the time you meed him in redcliff most of your dialogue choices are so fucking mean. In my replay I was trying desperately to be nice and sympathetic to him but the best you can do is be neutral and let him go but for every rude dialogue option there is no "you've been through something horrible, I'm sorry" or "you were manipulated, loghain took advantage of your vulnerability, I'm sorry" it's soooooo.

Likewise, I always make sure to speak to every single npc in the mage origins and the One mention of uldred before the broken circle quest is from the one mage who tells you about the different political faction enchanters are in, and it's with absolute disdain. That mage thinks uldred is annoying and it's implied that the other enchanters think so, too. Uldred who was an activist for mage liberation is treated as annoying for being an activist.

Then he turns out to be a blood mage and to have killed the majority of the circle, turning them into abominations. The message is clear: those who seek liberation are wicked. In the first game of the series, thus in the game which introduced the concept of circles at all, their existence is justified by the text. It overtly says: look at all those foolish mages, how dangerous they can be when One of them is wicked. Can you imagine if they were free? Can you imagine those abominations' destruction if they were out in the open?

Something similar happens in the mage origin, with Jowan. Through the whole origin, whilst Jowan is painted as annoying, he's definitely seen as a victim. Up until he uses blood magic, that is. Suddenly, the player is likely supposed to think "oh, so they were right to want to make him tranquil after all". Instead of being a way to show that the circle will often turn innocent mages tranquil, it shows you that greagoir was right to distrust Jowan, because he was indeed a blood mage. Instead of showing you how paranoid those in power are about mages, the writing justifies their fear and hatred.

Bear in mind this is the first game and likely the very first thing that happens to a lot of new players. The game does not expect you to know the intricacies of its lore yet, doesn't expect you to understand that blood magic is actually fucking neutral unless you sacrifice people for it. You might be tempted to argue that it's setting up for that realisation later and for you to feel bad about Jowan later, realizing he was led to blood magic because it was his only solution, because he and all other mages are caged like dogs (except this is ferelden, so the dogs are better treated than them). But then you've got the redcliff fiasco where it's obvious the writers expect you to fucking hate his guts

And while dragon age 2 is more overt in its depiction of mage suffering, it also tries to pass on the idea that kirkwall is a special case, that it's only the gallows that are this bad. That it's just Meredith whose craaazeyyy 🤪 and not just Meredith being a product of a corrupt system. The writers expect you to think of Anders as an unstable extremist, or as his writer puts it, a "bipolar terrorist" (note that ofc there's nothing fucking wrong with being bipolar, but I don't think his writer cares!)

With different writers and the exact same set of events, Anders blowing up the chantry would be easily recognized as a positive, as an act of justice, of rightful rebellion. Instead it's seen as a tragedy, a mistake. Instead Anders is categorized as a villain, morally grey even though Hawke themselves has a higher death toll than he ever will.

It's a lesson, I think. In narrative bias.

#Dragon age replay saga

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

#steddie #my fic #it's a late birthday fic to myself #not at light-hearted as I wanted #but I'm in a less light-hearted place now than when I first wanted to write this. So my mood has changed the story a bit

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t3a-tan · 7 months ago

Note

Okay, we know Oliver isn't scared of James but.. what if James (accidentally or not) actually did something that would scare the shit outta Oliver? Make Oliver feel totally vulnerable and terrified?

We really need to see their angst!

(love your work🥰)

You guys asked for it. Ironically @justme315 also just made a post whilst I was in the middle of writing it about wanting some good angst-- hopefully this is filling enough. I also tied this into the injury prompt 31 which was requested!

31) "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Word count: 1,685

---

“We all make mistakes, James. It's a part of life. You shouldn't hold onto that guilt forever. You said yourself that Emily forgave you for—”

“Emily forgiving me doesn't fix anything! Fuck, Oliver— I… I don't want your therapy-speak right now, it's just pissing me off!” James interrupted, a slight growl in his tone as he levelled a half-glare in the borrower's direction. His hands gestured as he spoke to emphasise his point. He knew Oliver was only trying to help, but he always made it sound so simple when life just wasn't like that.

Oliver winced at the volume but didn't let it bother him too much, sensing that if he told James to quiet down that might just aggravate him further. He focused instead on what James said. Therapy-speak?

“That's…just how I speak, James. I'm sorry if it made things worse, I’ll try to…hm.” He paused, thinking over what to do to fix his speech in the moment. “I’ll try not to say too many words. I understand that can be overwhelming for some people when they're in distress. My apologies.”

James groaned, slamming an elbow onto the edge of the table as he buried his face in one of his hands for a moment. He looked up, brows furrowing with irritation clear in his expression. “You are literally doing it right now—”

Oliver bristled.

“Oh. I'm…sorry. I'm just trying to communicate clearly so my intentions and feelings aren't misunderstood.” He hesitated again for a moment as he tried to figure out what about his speech was therapy-speak. Did James not want comfort..? But then what was Oliver supposed to do? He certainly wasn't going to participate in James's self-loathing. He offered a reassuring smile. “How would you like me to speak? I just want to help.”

James inhaled slowly before letting out a huff, closing his eyes and burying his face in both hands now. Rather than answering Oliver he stayed like that; silent, annoyed but trying to hold it back. He knew Oliver just wanted to help— but sometimes that just made James feel worse because Oliver had it all figured out and James didn't.

Sometimes he admired Oliver so much, but other times he felt so jealous. Even now, James knew that he was being the bad guy. Oliver wasn't a malicious person and clearly only cared but James really didn't want care right now. He wanted to shout and yell and throw things and collapse in a corner and cry to himself as the thought of one drink wouldn't hurt kept replaying in his mind over and over again.

Sometimes he just needed that time to get it all out so it wouldn't keep bubbling up inside of him, and Oliver was the one who was keeping him from that. Ultimately neither option would fix the relationships he had broken, so it didn't matter which one he picked, right? Self-destruction was probably some fucked up form of self-love in some way.

“I’m sorry—” Oliver began, feeling slightly on edge seeing James be so quiet and simply assuming, correctly, that he had spoken wrong again. He didn't like the feeling at all. He hadn't felt it before when facing an angry human; even angry dangerous humans; because James was his friend and he wasn't used to seeing him in that way. It felt wrong.

And something was clearly wrong because before Oliver could react, he was snatched up into a fist and lifted up to eye level. The position he was grabbed in was less than comfortable, and Oliver had been startled seeing the movement come from someone who hadn't really grabbed him much since their first meeting. Fully facing James's glare felt almost akin to staring down a gun barrel and Oliver felt nervous despite himself.

“Would you shut up?!! I didn't ask you for help or advice, so stop fucking telling me how I’m supposed to fucking feel!! I'm not stupid— I already know that this isn't bloody productive, but for God sake Oliver, you don't know shit about what I've done!!” James knew he was taking out his anger at himself on Oliver right now, but he just wanted him to stop trying.

Oliver grimaced at the further increase in volume, especially from up close. Even after the shouting and swearing though he could still only see that his friend was suffering and all he wanted to do was help. James might not want it, but he needed it at that moment… He needed to break free of these self-destructive patterns.

“I know you aren't a monster.” He responded simply, and despite his slight unease Oliver still managed to meet James's gaze with his own; seeing right through him and into the hurt that was beneath all of the anger. He could see how watery his friend's gaze was.

And that was what made James snap.

He just wanted to get a reaction— some confirmation of his own thoughts and feelings about himself. He wasn't thinking straight.

James squeezed his hand slightly.

He regretted it in the same second he did it, breath hitching and his hand immediately dropping back down to the table and releasing Oliver onto it like a reflex. His expression of anger quickly became one of horror as he processed the small crack he had heard and felt when he had squeezed. Oliver always seemed so invincible that the harsh reminder that he wasn't hit James like a ton of bricks.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” James gasped, blinking quickly to try to keep the water out of his eyes. Why did I do that? Why on Earth did I do that?? His hand covered his mouth slightly seeing Oliver's alarmed and dazed expression as he raised his arm and looked upon his newly broken wrist. I did that. Oh god.

“I'm…fine…” The borrower uttered slowly, still focused on the injury. The adrenaline rush was likely responsible for the numbness he felt buzzing through his whole body and keeping the pain from being unbearable, so he was fine. For now. His voice wavered slightly and he found it difficult to look up at his friend at the moment.

Is this fear? Why am I afraid..? James is my friend, and this was an accident. He wasn't trying to break anything I'm sure… Oliver brought his other hand up to cradle the injury only to notice his hand was shaking. Not just his hand…his whole body. No. I can't be scared. It will only make things worse…

Oliver looked down at his shoes, trying to gather himself again but failing miserably.

“I.. I'm sorry that I hurt you so much, James. I don't mean to.” He felt something wet roll down his cheek and drip onto the floor. Stunned by the fact that he was crying right now, Oliver wiped it off with his uninjured hand before looking at his slightly dampened fingertips with a furrowed brow of confusion.

“Fuck. Oliver don't apologise, I…” James trailed off. He had never seen Oliver shake or cry before— and even if Oliver was still talking fine James could hear the fear in his voice. “I can help. Just—”

As he reached forward to offer Oliver a hand and take him to where the medical supplies were kept, the usually stoic borrower suddenly backpedalled, stumbling back so suddenly that he ended up falling backwards and onto his behind. James's hand snapped back like it had been burned and his lips pressing into a stressed line.

Oliver's heart was pounding as he stared up at James. He had never been like this before, and he didn't like it at all… I need to get a hold of myself. It was an accident. It was an accident… Despite him assuring himself of that again and again his mouth felt dry as he met James's horrified gaze. He was reminded of the glare that had been there only moments ago.

“It…it was an accident. You wouldn't break anything on purpose… It was a mistake.” He murmured to himself, shoulders bunching up and knees being brought closer to his chest. Even when other humans had given him similar injuries, Oliver had never felt like this. He hesitated, looking down again. “Could I have some medical supplies?”

James stood up quickly, wincing as he saw Oliver flinch in response. He opened his mouth to apologise again before deciding against it and quickly going to the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit. You haven't changed. Even after everything you haven't changed.

He took a deep breath to try to settle his nerves as he grabbed everything needed and walked back in. Oliver was still sitting in the same position; still not looking at him. I took it for granted again. James set the kit down before resting his hands on the edge of the table. He bit his lip.

“Can I help..?” He asked, desperate to try and right his wrong at least a little. He deflated as he saw Oliver's small shake of the head.

“I would like to be alone for a while, please. I..I don't like how I'm feeling at the moment…” Oliver spoke and James hated how he could hear the nervous trembles in his voice. Still, he nodded, standing up more slowly this time. As he looked down at his friend from this position it became clear just how small and vulnerable he was… He blinked again but it didn't help with the tears this time as one simply rolled down his cheek anyway.

“I’m sorry…” He uttered softly. Why did I think it was okay to grab him in the first place? Just because I can? What kind of monster would do something like that..? Lip trembling slightly, James turned and began to walk away only to pause when he heard Oliver's voice again.

“I forgive you.”

James stood still for a few more moments before leaving the room and sitting at the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He grit his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly.

Forgiveness wouldn't fix anything.

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #ask box #g/t #g/t writer #borrowers #oc asks #ask #giant/tiny #g/t angst #g/t writing #giant/tiny writing

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shiyorin · 9 months ago

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#Primarchs x reader but it is modern au

#Well, actually here are some drabbles I wrote for challenge modern au with my friends. I almost forgot I wrote it

#Romcom but actually one is a rom and one is a com.

#Menu: Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman

Sanguinius

You sighed, gazing idly at the latest abstract sculptures on display. How you had been convinced to come to this event, you did not know. Curiosity, perhaps. Or a desire for something different, however fleeting.

You wandered from piece to piece, managing polite smiles and vague comments when addressed. The other patrons were a study in extravagance, jewel-toned gowns, colognes that announced wealth and status with every spray. You felt woefully out of place in your modest attire, there to observe from the sidelines.

Making to leave, you turned, and found yourself face to face with Sanguinius himself.

He smiled gently, warmly, in a manner that made your ensuing frown seem all the harsher. "I thought that might be you," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come."

What could you say? That you had no interest in his efforts, his wealth, his world of aesthetics and social climbing? Somehow you doubted even your harshest words could dampen that gentle smile.

Instead, you said. "The artwork is…interesting."

Sanguinius chuckled. "You despise it."

You clenched your jaw. Were you that transparent? But before you could retort, Sanguinius continued.

"That's alright. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, as they say." He held your gaze steadily, openly. "If you'll allow me, I think I see a kind of beauty in you that transcends all this."

You blinked, taken aback. This was not the response you had anticipated. Before you could gather your thoughts, Sanguinius bowed his head. "Forgive me. I overstep." And with that, he was gone, lost amidst the crowd.

You stood still for a long moment, pondering this strange encounter. A part of your wished to dismiss it, leave this foreign world behind once more. And yet, something intrigued you about him.

With a sigh, you left the gallery. But your thoughts lingered still on Sanguinius.

*****

Sanguinius sighed, staring out the window of his studio with unseeing eyes. His mind replayed the brief encounter with you at the gallery over and over, cataloging every awkward beat and missed opportunity.

"You despise it." He had said, and he had chuckled, played it cool. As if his heart wasn't pounding at finally being face to face with this enigmatic who held his thoughts captive.

He should have said something clever, charming. Asked your favorite flowers, favorite wine. Instead he offered vague platitudes and retreated like a coward, leaving you in there.

Sanguinius cringed. Had all those years playing the beloved artist prince addled his silver tongue beyond repair?

Pushing away from the window, he began to pace. He could have told you about the time he sprained his wrist painting your likeness from memory. Or how every sculpture he crafted seemed an effort to capture some fleeting trace of your grace. Or how -

"Ridiculous," he muttered to the empty room. You clearly wanted nothing to do with his affections. And well you should! What had he to offer beyond annoy you?

Still, the memory of your averted gaze and tightly crossed arms stung him.

"Next time," he vowed to the mirror, "Next time, I just need one more."

With a sigh, Sanguinius turned back to his workbench, and began to sketch. Ideas for new pieces taking shape, works that might one day, somehow, win the regard of your heart.

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman jogged up the stairs to your loft, dread pooling in his gut. The half-coherent slurring over the phone signaled trouble, as usual.

Upon entering, he sighed at the all-too-familiar sight awaiting - you sprawled gracelessly across the couch, bottle of vodka dangling precariously from limp fingers as you brow furrowed intensely at your laptop on the floor.

"What did we talk about this?" Guilliman sighed, bending to retrieve the laptop. He knew before even booting it up what he'd find.

"I'm verrrrry fine and for sure not drunk!" You protested, flailing an arm wildly. "Why would I need to be drunk, nothing was wrrrong at all. The vodkaaaaa? Naw, that's just...that's just morrrrrral suppppppppport!"

Guilliman pinched the bridge of his nose, opening the laptop. Yep, there was your popular anonymous venting forum, your anonymous profile clearly hammered as usual.

"You need to stop getting on the internet when you're drunk, or stop getting drunk when you're on the internet," he lectured wearily. "Jeez, this is...ugh."

You barked a harsh laugh. "You're one to taaaaaaaalk! At leassssst I don't write angry tweets to Landlord Association Presidents about proper...proper ventilation codes when I'm trasheeeeeeed!"

Guilliman flushed, fishing out his phone. Sure enough, several draft angry tweets awaited deletion in the morning. He coughed. "Regardless, you're dealing with the consequences of your actions this time."

You groaned as he scrolled. "I say one little thing about Angron's anger issues suddenly meaning he can't handle a puppy and everyone loses their minds!"

Guilliman read the fiery thread questioning Angron's prospective puppy adoption. Yikes. At least you hadn't doxxed anyone in your drunken ranting this time. Small miracles.

"Lucky for you, I cleaned it up," he reassured, sparing your the drama. "Now, let's get you hydrated before round two of the vomiting begins."

You scowled but obediently sipped the electrolyte drink he handed your. "You're no fun, Roboute. How am I supposed to vent my frustrations creatively without liquid inspiration?"

"You could try a journal, or healthy coping skills." he suggested blandly, though they both knew that was pointless. This was who you was - passionate, impulsive, and mysteriously charming even wasted.

"Ugh, soooo boring. Maybe I'll just start an anonymous YouTube venting channel. What could go wrong?" You mused, raking a hand through tangled hair.

Guilliman groaned. "Please don't give the internet any more of your drunken thoughts. For now, focus on keeping what's left of your dinner down and get some rest. I'll be here making sure you don't do anything too regrettable offline too."

You flipped him a rude gesture but burrowed underneath the blankets obediently. He chuckled, settling in for the long night watch as usual. Another crisis averted, for now at least. You sniffled miserably from beneath the blanket mound as Guilliman scrolled through the aftermath of your drunken posting.

"Oh god, you thought about it, didn't you?" he sighed knowingly. Last year's intoxicated vent had sparked such a vicious flame war that his still shuddered at the memory.

That seemed to be the tipping point as you burst into tears. "I'm trying to change, this shit, people from the outside don't get how much bullshit we gotta put up with, and if lucky hate it, and, and-"

"Okay, alright, you need to sleep this off," Guilliman soothed, setting the laptop aside. "Come on, up you get."

But you only cried louder, curling in on yourself tighter. Guilliman sighed, recognizing the onset of a full-blown anxiety attack.

"Look, you know why you're not supposed to use Twitter, yeah?" He asked gently. You nodded miserably into the couch.

"Because I get like this."

Resigned to damage control, Guilliman retrieved the laptop once more. Glancing at your drunken thread, he frowned. "Ugh..."

You peeked out with red-rimmed eyes. "Is it that bad?"

Guilliman hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. The thread had devolved into the usual vitriol and trash talk, with more than a few personal insults directed at you yourself sprinkled in.

"Well...maybe we should ask Alpharius and Omegon to solve it." he suggested, only half joking. The twin did have an uncanny knack for scrubbing digital messes unseen.

You hiccuped a watery giggle at the idea of unleashing the secret agents on your trolls. Your panic seemed to ease slightly.

Guilliman couldn't help a small smile in return before launching into maximum distraction mode. "Alright, you've had your fun crying for tonight. Now it's time to plot our revenge against the haters!"

You sniffled but nodded, anticipation gleaming through your swollen eyes. "What did you have in mind...?"

"Well first, we gather blackmail on the worst offenders..." Guilliman began deviously, launching into an absurdly convoluted revenge scheme.

#shiyorin's writer #wh40crack #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #modern au #Does anyone want to send a request for modern au?#lol

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sandorsubs · 3 months ago

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How to "actually" reprogram your mind

INDEX

Introduction

Code System

Master Codes

Replacement Codes

How your brain is gonna use new codes

Coding Style

Notes

Do you have limiting beliefs? You don't think you can have your desire or accomplish things? Even can't manifest stuff how hard you try? Then you might heard about reprogramming your mind. They say change your beliefs, affirm, don't use old story...Yeah but it's not that easy, we all know that.

If you don't know what reprogramming your mind is, it's basically changing your old belief with new one that has more benefits for you. I saw couple exercises for it: making a list for what you believe and adding your desires in it. Robotically affirming everyday. Choose your method. But if you are struggling and searching for more efficient way to reprogram your mind, take a look at my method.

Code System

I take affirmations as codes. Every code has an emotion that will be released before or after your brain runs the code. Some codes have prominent memories attached to them. I know it sounds complicated but let me give you an example of a negative code.

You are going to make a presentation but you had a similar experience before when your classmates made fun of you. Your brain instantly runs the code "i can't speak in public". You feel emotions such as anxiety, fear, worry, shame etc. You keep replaying that experience you had in your mind and feel even worse. This what a code is made of, you can call them affirmations if you want.

(Stop reading now and think for a code you use frequently. It could be simplest thing, look around i promise you'll find one.)

Master Codes

There will be two section in our method: master code and replacement code. Master code is a dominant code on top of code hierarchy. Remember when we feel in danger and make crazy scenarios in our minds but most of the time, they don't happen. Because our brain chooses master code over any other negative assumption. Everyone has master codes, they are just not aware of it.

"I am always protected" is a master code. Even you are in a dangerous situation and feeling extreme fear, your brain is going to choose this master code over a negative code such as "something bad is going to happen". As you can see, master codes are general and strong because you used them a lot in your life. Now write down master codes of your reality. "I have control over my 3d", "i manifest whatever i want", "i am extremely lucky", "everything always works out for me" whatever you want.

Now attach a memory to this code. If you don't have one, first of all think again. Sometimes it can even be a memory you thought it's bad.

For example if you almost had a accident and you feel bad when you remember it. But that's an example for how you were protected. If your master code is "i am protected" when you think about that moment you'll also feel gratitude.

Btw don't force yourself to feel good about a memory, i am just saying change your perception but if you still feel uncomfortable leave it. And take your lessons from a bad experience even if you are still going to revise it, loves

Replacement Codes

So what is replacement code? Brand new code for your brain to use instead of old usuless one. I see a cup of coffee, my brain runs a code "coffee is not healthy". I remember how scientists says coffee damages your brain and ruins your sleep cycles. Then i feel sad because i like coffee and i want to drink more. This is how i unwillingly affirm coffee is unhealthy. Let's replace this code because it doesn't serve me. I want to drink coffee <3

If you have a bad memory attached to it, try to revise or assess a positive memory just like what we did in master codes. I used to drink a lot more coffee back then but i kept saying myself that caffeine doesn't affect me (which was clearly an affirmation lmao). My assumption worked like a charm but i started to read about how coffee is unhealthy then it really became unhealthy. I replaced my assumption with a negative code unconsciously. To replace this negative code everytime i drink coffee i run "i am okay with consuming caffeine as much as i want" code and remember the times i wouldn't get affected even if drank 5-6 cups.

(Btw that's why overconsumption is dangerous because we keep hearing new things, unlock new fears everyday. Be careful about the contents you consume.)

Also I want to remind you don't have to say this code in your mind. Think them like a button that your brain presses. This process will happen in seconds, all you gotta do is realize if you are still using a negative code over master code or replacement. And reverse it.

How your brain is gonna use new codes

Disclaimer: This is my theory, if it doesn't align with your experiences just ignore and jump to next part.

I don't know if you guys realize this but when you affirm something at first you keep seeing the opposite of it in your 3D. If I affirm i am lucky, i find myself in unlucky situations. I used to think i need to persist, i see the opposite because i put my desires on pedestal. Then i realized this is how my brain tests me to see if i really believe i am lucky.

I went to hospital to make an x-ray appointment but system was down, assistant told me to come back a day later. But hospital was a bit far from my house so i decided to wait. I was affirming "i am lucky" in back then so i felt a little bit disappointed things didn't worked out quickly. While i was sitting i realized that's why it's not working, because even if i keep telling myself that i am lucky i didn't have that mindset.

I thought i'll make this appointment today because i really believe i am lucky. System got fixed after almost an hour, i made appointment and went home. But that memory stuck in my mind, i felt like my brain tests me to see if i am really believing it. Like little homeworks. I believe mindset/affirmation is 30% how you think, 70% how you act and perceive the situation in that certain moment. And of course affirming it loud or in your mind keeps you on track.

When you are going to use these new codes, let yourself to become used to it. Did you use the negative code again? Don't worry, at least you are aware of it now.

You started to think you are not enough? Oh i am lazy, i am not good at painting, my friends doesn't like me, my grades suck, i'll never have a good career. Stop. Take a deep breath. Thinking like this doesn't help at all. Use your own code, master or replacement, doesn't matter. Remember that certain memory you assesed the code, feel emotions of the memory and relax.

Using your new code is same as how you normally use negative codes in your life. "My mom said i cook horrible so it must be real. So whenever i try to cook, i ruin it completely and i remember what she said." You can find thousands of examples of codes, you have been using since you were a child. They are keeping you from living this beautiful life and experiencing.

Coding Style

You know what they say about affirmations, use present tense, don't say i want or i need bla bla frickin bla. Have you realized, maybe that person assumes they manifest better with "i want xyz". Maybe they assume they are little brat of this universe and they'll be awarded just by ✨ asking for it ✨

This is not to complain but to realize your coding style. What do you value most? Having it, knowing it, loving it? For me i tried a certain code/affirmation style: bitchy one.

"it's mine" or "this will happen eventually" See? I am not even demanding, i am forcing and 100% sure this will work. If this suits your personality, give it a try. It was 50/50 for me. I liked using it but i also felt uncomfortable for being little aggressive. And "i want xyz" is even harder for me because i still have hard times to demand.

Then i tried present tense style "i am, i have" but it was too bland for me. So i asked myself what do i value? What is highest ranking? Knowing it.

I question a lot, suspect a lot, i don't even trust my own knowledge sometimes. But if i can tell "i know xyz" this is in the highest rank for me. Then i started to use my codes in this style.

For example if you value how you would feel when your desire is accomplished, try using "i love feeling xyz".

I see people using "i decide xyz", use this style if you value control.

Or questions like "why i am xyz" if you always want to know "whys" or "whats".

Try and find out for yourself, even you feel like universe is your sugar mommy/daddy and only thing you need to do is *ask* don't give a f about what community says.

Notes

So that's all for now, i know it's long for a first post. Don't mind my writing style, english is not my mother tongue and only thing that matters for me to describe things in my mind. If you have questions go on and ask. I'll also share a reprogramming mind subliminal if you are coming from my youtube channel. Btw i created a table in notion and divided codes in two sections and three categories. Master and replacement code sections both have three categories. Mind, body/environment, spirit. I added emotion and memory to new codes and ponder about my negative codes.

Hey, also this is fun and actually helps me but plsss don't stress like it's actually coding a program and you have to run it perfectly. Give yourself the ✨damn✨ time. I made an observation about how limiting beliefs affect our life and i think "oh negative thoughts have more power☝️🤓" statement is not true. We wouldn't be alive then because i have crazy scenarios and i do actually believe in them for a moment. I just realized negative assumptions have a pattern and we can use it in our advantage!! Yaay (i like how i started serious like putting index or stuff but why the hell tumblr on browser is so shitty??)

#law of assumption #reprogramming #manifesting #how to reprogram your mind #bwahahaha #loa tumblr #loablr #master manifestor #i like adding random hashtags #lasttt #fridayyy #nighttt!!#manifesting community #sandorblr

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wings-of-ink · 6 months ago

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Hello! Hope your day is at least half as lovely as you are!

I have been meaning to ask this ever since the last chapter came out but, uh, didn't...?

So, I believe I have seen you, in an ask, mention that in the bathing scene Oswin should be able to react to seeing the scar he had given you in a sword duel sparring match thingy (the one you select in the scar section if your trade is swordsmanship). I, despite my countless, brave, and determined attempts, have not been able to achieve [seeing] this. Is this an issue on my part? Should I keep flustering my dear boy by replaying the scene over and over until I finally get it??

Thank you in advance! Love all your stuff, the RO asks have me far more weak than I'd like - or like to admit. As such, thank you for being such an amazing writer as well.

Hello my friend! My day has been sleepy but good!

You are correct, I remember popping that into an Ask somewhere. And it's funny you ask now, because it has been on my mind recently, lol. You must be channeling to me. That scar specifically I debated about when I was actually writing the scene. The reason being, is that MC keeps their back to whomever is with them and I kept getting conflicted as to if the discussion might come up since it's the visual that prompts the convo. So I left it out...and then here recently I was rethinking that decision, and then I had a different idea anyway.

The scar that did make it into that scene is the one where the MC duels the other kid and they take a cheap swing at them, scaring their back pretty badly. There's also a couple tattoos that get mentioned. There was another scar as well that didn't get any attention, that is around the back of the MC's neck - I haven't decided if I will add that or not.

For the Oswin scar, I think now I'd rather do another segment where that one can come up. One that they can have a more meaningful discussion about it. Maybe Oswin can touch it and things like that if I do it this way instead. So it can be a moment for touch if the MC wants or just to talk about it, since Oswin's feelings are going to be kinda heavy. It can be a whole thing instead of a few passing remarks.

Sorry you didn't get what you were looking for in that scene, though I am pleased that the ROs have you weak in the knees. ^_^

You are too kind, my friend. I am so happy that you have found such enjoyment in this story. It really fuels me to keep at it and make something you can all adore.

#god cursed if #asks #twine if #if wip #twine wip #gc if character development #gc ro oswin

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komotionlessqueenmm · 2 years ago

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I've practically been stalking your old ivan drago content and saw your imagine prompt for being Rocky's younger sister and having a crush on Ivan, can you IMAGINE the idea of you, being Rocky's younger sister, seeking ivan out after his life changing loss because you know what that means for him? Just being soft and understanding because even though your brother won (and there's a good reason as to why that's the appropriate ending cough cough) you feel the need to offer a shoulder and comfort ivan because you see him for what he is, the product of having to please such a demanding regime? Maybe it's just my penchant to see big strong antagonists and want to hold their face in my hands lol (like iceman, my beloved)

Gah dammit now I wanna write about this!!!!

(No seriously tho I love this, I have daydreamed about it so many times, just needed someone to convince me to write about it! But I'm doing this as a headcanon instead of an actual story because I don't think I can properly get across what I want to get across. Which is why I never wrote about this despite fantasizing about it.)

Headcanon/Preference # 28

Pictures NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*I'm randomly coming back to this request because I saw it in my drafts, and I'm dabbling with a few pieces with Dolphs characters again, so I wanted to finish this one. That being said, I've actually got a story I'm working on based loosely on that imagine, it's got a fun little twist to it though. So keep an eye out for that, and I apologize this took so long, but that's honestly kinda just how I roll. 😅 ALSO this isn't exactly what you asked for, but I think you'll enjoy it regardless! MY BAD!

☓Before the fight☓

☭ So before the fight you'd only seen Ivan on the TV screen. But even then you could see him for who he really was. And apparently you were the only one who could, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

☭ You more or less threatened your brother to take you with him to Russia. And he of course tried reasoning with you, but you'd made up your mind, and he wasn't going to change it.

☭ Rocky was of course worried that the cold might get to you, so he made sure you were bundled to the nine every single day. It was sweet, but a little annoying at the same time. And you had to admit the cold was definitely harsher in Russia than Philadelphia, and that was saying something.

☭ But despite the cold, and the harsh glare from the locals, you found yourself enjoying the landscape scenery.

☭ You helped to encourage your brothers training, and despite having lost your old friend Apollo to him, you couldn't help but find yourself enamored in a way with the Soviet boxer. A fact that you kept under lock and key.

☭ You wondered most nights what would happen in the end. What would happen to Rocky if he lost? What would Ivan go through if he lost? There was just so much at stake, and you couldn't decide who you wanted to come out victorious. Well both of them if you had it your way, but you knew that wasn't an opinion.

☭ You often replayed the fight he had with Apollo in your head. You'd seen how Apollo's theatrics effected him, and how unbothered he'd been by Apollo's taunting. How precious he was, and how powerful.

☭ It made you worry for your brother, but you knew he was one tough son of a bitch. You'd been there for every single one of Rocky's fights after all, even back when he was fighting in shitty clubs.

☓During the fight☓

☭ You were sorta like Rocky's coach at this point, well maybe not coach but rather his hype-man, always had been. So you were with him when he went out to the ring, and beside him in the ring.

☭ You had to admit, seeing Ivan up close for the first time... Jesus he was huge... And very intimidating with his cold expression. Queue your curiosity and worry both spiking.

☭ You shook hands with his team, per the typical routine, and when you were about to turn and leave the ring. You found Ivan staring at you, making eye contact, and maintaining it for far longer than you probably should have.

☭ Rocky noticed your hesitance, and gently bumped his shoulder with yours, knocking you out of your stupor. You offered your older brother a small smile, and he gently bumped your chin with his glove, drawing a proper smile from you. Which in turn made him smile.

☭ He didn't even notice Ivan had been staring at you, or that Ivan continued to do so as you left the ring. But the announcers? The fans? They noticed. So around the world people wondered if maybe it had been a bad idea letting you go to this fight.

☭ Before the fight started, you stood beside the ropes in Rocky's corner, and made good on tradition. Resting your foreheads together you said a prayer and wished him luck, smiling when he kissed the crown of your head before breaking away.

☭ All throughout the fight, you found yourself feeling rather queasy, you'd never experienced that before during any of Rocky's fights. You knew subconsciously because it wasn't just because of your worry for Rocky.

☭ You realized pretty quickly into the fight, that far more was riding on Ivan winning than Rocky. For Rocky if he lost, he would have been humiliated, and failed in avenging Apollo... But Ivan. You knew he would suffer far worse if he lost.

☭ You didn't have to speak Russian to know that his entire life would be determined by the outcome of this fight. If he won he'd be a hero, like Rocky was back home. But if he lost, odds are he'd loose everything he's come to know. How perceptive of you.

☭ Often you'd find yourself looking to Ivan when they were separated for a short break. Almost always finding him already staring at you, his expression dark and furious. Which admittedly made you a little nervous, but you didn't feel his frustration was directed at you.

☭ By the time they were both bloody and exhausted, you were on the brink of tears. And both men had noticed. Rocky trying to comfort you as best he could during his breaks, despite the fact that his state of mind was more important. (Something you kept reminding him about, but he didn't care. He's a good brother.)

☭ Ivan did nothing but watch, wondering if you were afraid for your brother, afraid for himself, or if perhaps you were afraid of him at this point? A series of thoughts that only confused him, and distracted him more than he'd care to admit.

☭ When Ivan picked that man up by his throat, you found that the tears had finally escaped, rolling down the apples of your cheeks as he shouted in Russian. His eyes found yours in the commotion, and he was certain he'd gotten his answer to his earlier ponderings.

☭ Little did he know you were crying for him, not because of his actions.

☓After the fight☓

☭ The crowd had boomed with excitement, and many people rushed the ring to celebrate with Rocky. You had watched as Ivan was led out by his team, and you didn't think twice about following them.

☭ When his team realized you'd followed them, they tried to shoo you away, but then Ivan noticed it was you, and barked at them to leave in his native tongue. Perplexed they complied and left you alone in the locker room.

☭ "What are you doing here?" He questioned, his accent think and heavy, like honey to your ears. "I..." You were at a loss for words. "I'm not sure... I-." He scoffed at you before turning away, looking at himself in the mirror, and glancing at you through it.

☭ "I guess I just wanted to see how you were... If you're... If you're okay." You tried to make sense of the way you felt, you knew you were drawn to him, you just didn't know why. He simply kept watching you through the mirror as you fumbled adorably over your explanation.

☭ But what you said next really caught him by surprise. "Your hands... Are your hands okay?" You'd asked, now looking at him through the mirror, he turned to you with confusion evident on his expression. No one ever asked if his hands were okay after a fight before, not even his wife.

☭ "I'm usually the one that mends Rocky's hands after a fight... Are your... Are your hands okay?" You explained yourself, taking a tentative step towards him, freezing in place when he stepped towards you.

☭ "You are afraid of me." He stated. "Not exactly." You quickly defended yourself. "I'm not afraid of you... I'm anxious around you." You added, thinking he'd accept that response. "What is the difference?" Ivan argued, watching you approach him.

☭ "My heart is racing, but it isn't because of fear." You tried to explain, feeling incredibly sheepish, especially considering you knew he was married. "I know fear... And you do not inflect fear in me." You added, sort of hoping he wouldn't understand what you meant.

☭ Thankfully he did. "I feel it as well." He admitted in a soft tone, not wanting to startle you as you gently unwrapped his wrist wraps. He noticed how you flushed at his confession, it made him smile softly.

☭ You tended to his busted up hands with a gentle touch, more gentle than he's used to. And by the time you'd finished, he couldn't help himself and he kissed you.

☭ It was tender the way he tilted your head back with his index finger, slowly leaning in to give you the opportunity to turn away if you wanted, but you didn't turn away.

☭ It's probably the most wholesome moment of his life, and yes I'm taking into account the birth of his son Viktor.

☭ You were just so sweet, peering up at him with big doe eyes. Foreheads resting together you both forgot about the world around you, if only for a moment.

☭ Ivan just wanted to wrap you in his arms and stay that way forever. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to you, but he had been enamored with you long before you even knew about him.

☭ Granted you had just been a face on the screen of his TV, but that didn't stop his heart from fluttering at the mere sight of you. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps you were made for eachother, separated from eachother across the world.

☭ After what felt like hours the moment was ruined, because down the hall you could hear Rocky calling your name, probably worried sick about where you'd disappeared to.

☭ "I have to go." You whispered, despite not wanting to. "I know." Ivan murmured equally saddened. "Until we meet again." He added before giving you one last kiss, breaking away and leaving right before Rocky barged in. His heart shattering in his chest, as he knew you'd probably never see eachother again.

☭ "There you are!" Rocky breathed a sigh of relief, and practically fell into your arms. He never questioned why you were in Ivan's locker room, and he never questioned why you'd run off like that. (He had a feeling he didn't want to know.)

☓Years later☓

◈ You hadn't seen him since his fight against Rocky. And you wondered if he'd even recognize you anymore. Or if you'd even see him that is.

◈ You knew about his son, and his determination to fight Adonis Creed.

◈ What you hadn't honestly expected, was for him to show up your brother's restaurant, atleast not unannounced.

◈ "Rocky we need-" You cut yourself off as you laid eyes on him, he looked even more handsome than you'd remembered. Frozen in place you jumped when Rocky touched your arm.

◈ "You okay?" He asked with a soft expression, wordlessly pulling you into a hug when you nodded your head yes.

◈ "(Y/n)." Ivan had approached you both, and you could tell Rocky didn't trust him. "Hello Ivan." You smiled softly, those old butterflies from before fluttering around in your belly.

◈ You'd secretly been sending letters to Ivan for years, and while you sent them religiously, you only ever received a handful in return. Not that you minded, you understood, better than anyone.

◈ "Still so beautiful." He mused as if Rocky wasn't standing right there, his hand coming up to brush his knuckles across your cheek bone. Rocky was quick to put himself between you and Ivan of course, ever the protective brother.

◈ "Rock." You placed your arm on his bicep, gently tugging at his arm, a reassuring smile on your face when he turned to look at you. "It's okay." You reached up cupping your brothers cheek, smiling as you felt him relax under your touch.

◈ When you looked to Ivan again, you asked him if he would like to take a small walk. Rocky immediately tried arguing against it, but you assured him you would be fine, and he listened to you begrudgingly.

◈ "You look good Ivan." You'd mused as you walked side by side, just the two of you, as he'd made Viktor wait in the car. "I've missed you." He admitted, making you smile. "And I've missed you." You found it funny that he could still make you blush.

◈ "I kept all of your letters." He added in a soft tone, again making you smile. "Yeah?" You stopped walking and he turned to you, taking your hands in his. "Of course." He smiled.

◈ "You were always on my mind." Ivan murmured quietly before wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his head into your neck. You quickly wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, your right hand coming to rest against the back of his head.

◈ "You know... I never married." You mused thoughtfully, hoping he wouldn't think you crazy. "I couldn't bring myself to love anyone else." You added when he pulled back from the hug.

◈ "I would have given anything to have you by my side, helping me raise Viktor." Ivan closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back on his fantasy. "Want about now?" You wondered aloud before you could stop yourself, and Ivan smirked.

◈ "You would want that? Want me?" He asked with a small smile, adoration shining in his eyes. You cupped his face between your hands, pulling him down to your height so you shared the same air. "It's all I've ever wanted Ivan." He visibility melted into your touch.

◈ Needless to say the world was shocked to see you by Ivan's side, and even more so when you announced your engagement. Rocky tried to "reason" with you, claiming it was a rash decision. But you told him about everything, the moment you shared with Ivan in Russia, the letters, and the way he made you feel, the way he'd always made you feel.

◈ Rocky came to realize your love for Ivan, was like his love for Adrian. He knew you never really dated, or let yourself get attached, especially after his fight with Ivan. And despite his past with the Russian, he supported you (warning Ivan about what would happen if he broke your heart like any good brother would.), and he attended your wedding of course.

#Headcanon #ivan drago x reader #ivan drago #Ivan drago headcanon #Ivan drago imagine #Ivan drago x you #Ivan drago x y/n #rocky balboa #Rocky 4 #rocky iv #Rocky headcanon #Rocky 4 headcanon #dolph lundgren #reader insert #fluff #requested #Rocky imagine #rocky x reader #Rocky x you

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 6 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 6: THE MONSTER

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I would actually faint if I were in the Upside Down for the first time like that.

Warnings: The Upside Down

Word Count: 1819

Masterlist

PART I || PART II ||

Friday, November 11, 1983 - THE UPSIDE DOWN

It was like crawling through one of those plastic tunnels in a playground but instead of seeing sand and sunlight on the other side, I see darkness and decay. I wrinkle my nose at the mucus-like substance coating my hair and clothes. What is this?

“Nancy?” I whisper.

“Diana! Are you okay?” she breathes, helping me up.

“Yeah, just,” I wipe my hands on my jeans. “What is this stuff?”

“I don’t know,” she answers, looking around.

I follow her gaze and realize we’re in a forest, similar to the one we crawled out of? I feel discombobulated like Alice falling down the hole chasing the white rabbit. The forest is covered in fog and I squint taking in my surroundings. There are weird flakes falling from the sky, but they rarely land on the ground. It’s like they’re floating, taunting me. I remove a flake stuck on my jacket and it disintegrates between my fingers like ash. This place…I don’t understand—where are we? It looks like the forest we were just in but colder, darker and more unsettling.

Nancy motions for me to follow and I oblige stepping over a weird vine thing with mucus all over it. I then step through a splitting tree, cringing at the mucus covered vines spiralling all over. The flashlight begins to flicker and Nancy hits the tin box trying to fix it. I squint, looking around the forest. A sudden movement from the corner of my eye makes my skin tingle. Nancy gasps shining the light to the right of us.

I am utterly frozen. My body cut all communication with my mind, and no matter how much my brain screamed for me to run. I am immobilized in terror. In the far corner by a tree was the animal I saw in the photograph. I remember its long, lithe figure. What I couldn’t see in the photo that I see now is it’s long sharp claws and slimy skin. I hear it tearing into the deer we saw earlier; the wounded one Jonathan was about to put out of its misery. It disappeared here. That thing—that animal dragged it here. The animal was vicious and brutal, gnawing at tissue and bones. Blood…so much blood dripped down its body. It didn’t notice Nancy’s flashlight shining on it or us staring wide-eyed while it ate. Nancy grabs my hand and we begin to back away slowly. I follow her cautious movements, neither of us taking our eyes off the animal.

Breathe. Breathe, Diana. Just one step at a time.

I feel the crunch beneath my boot before I hear it. The animal whips around roaring a terrifying screech that I’m sure will haunt me for the rest of my life. Its mouth opens wide like petals of a flower and I see several jagged, pointy teeth, covered in blood and gore. A guttural scream erupts from my throat and I sprint through the forest not daring to look back. I don’t know when or where or how I lost Nancy. The animal’s fierce growls replaying over and over in head. I run and run and run until I can’t anymore and hide behind a tree.

“Jonathan!” I hear Nancy shouting from the distance. “Jonathan! Jonathan! I’m right here!”

“Nancy!” I shout, running towards her voice. I can’t see through much through the fog. “Nancy!”

“Diana!”

A terrifying growl followed by her scream echoes through the forest. I dash to the nearest tree huddling behind it, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. I’m trembling so much I feel the tree is moving with me. I press my hand to my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable sobs. I can’t—think. I don’t know what’s happening. All I can hear is my heart beating so fast in my chest I fear it might explode. Black spots cloud my vision. I’m going to faint. No! I pinch myself hard. No. You cannot faint, Diana. Not here.

My mind feels like it’s been tossed in a blender, filled with fragmented thoughts of my life and worse-case scenarios. I don’t know how long I stay crouched behind the tree. I don’t know if I’m even alive right now. Something tickles my ankles and I jump up, covering my mouth to stifle my scream. I back away watching the vines move and slither along the tree. The small hairs across my body stand up. The vines…they’re alive. I wring out my hands, letting my tears fall freely.

I can’t. I can’t.

My eyes trail down and around at all the vines wrapped and draped over the forest. They seem to be moving…breathing, actually. I look up and around trying to understand this…place. I hear a low growl in the distance and have no choice but to hide behind the tree covered in breathing vines. I clench my muscles so tight they ache.

“Diana!” I hear a voice shout. I flinch, eyes wide in horror. “Diana!” It’s muffled like it’s coming from the other side of a door. “Diana! Hurry!” The voice says. “Find the tree! Find the tree!”

Nancy. It’s Nancy! She’s alive! She’s alive and with Jonathan. How? Wait. Find the tree. What tree? There are so many. I peer around the web-like tendrils looking for the animal, but I can’t see through the stupid fog. I press my trembling hands against my temples, trying to still the frantic thoughts that raced through my mind, each one a taunting reminder of my mounting panic. Find the tree. The tree! The tree we crawled out of. Okay. Okay. I can do this. I can find it. I didn’t run that far, did I?

“Diana!” Jonathan shouts. “Listen to the sound of my voice.”

I whip my head to the side. Left. Go Left. I hold my breath trying to make myself as small as possible and scurry to the next nearby tree, trying my best not to press against the vines. I want to shout to them but I’m frightened it would give my hideout away. My eyes dart around the forest, searching for an escape route. If I run from tree to tree toward the sound of Nancy and Jonathan’s voices, I’ll be able to find the tree. I grit my teeth in determination. I am not going to die.

My entire being is on high alert as I quiet the sound of my panting to open my senses to any small sound. I don’t know where that thing is, but I know I need to get to the nearest tree. I take off to the left, light and delicate on my feet. Who knew ballet would come in handy when escaping impending death. I run from tree to tree keeping my eyes peeled for anything strange.

“Diana!” I hear Nancy more clearly.

I cling to the vine, fingers digging into the soft surface. It moves beneath my fingers and I jump back stifling a scream. To the right I notice the tree. It’s gaping hole was growing…smaller, as if it were closing. The surge of panic consumes me. I am not getting stuck here. I am not going to die. I sprint straight to the tree refusing to take my eyes off it. I drop heavily onto my knees and begin to squeeze my body through. I clench my jaw fighting to fit my hips through. I can’t see anything tucking my chin into my chest refusing to get any of that slime on my face. I push the rest of my body inside, but I feel stuck. Like the walls are closing in on me. I open my mouth, breathing in jagged uneven gasps. I taste mould in my mouth and I cough, my lungs struggling to draw in air.

“Nancy!” I cry, my voice quivers, words stumbling out in disjointed fragments. “Jonathan!”

THE WOODS

I push my body through the damp tunnel desperately clawing my way out to the other side. The muffled voices of Jonathan and Nancy shouting my name grow more and more clear as I crawl. The space in the tunnel becomes narrow and I find it difficult to squeeze my shoulders through. I grit my teeth pushing my arm through the sticky webbing as far as I can reach. My hand oozes past the gummy surface until I feel a pop breaking free of the goop.

Someone grabs my hand and pulls my body through with so much force I pop out of the hole landing on my side. I draw in my first breath filling my lungs with cool, clean air and immediately begin to cough inhaling too much for my lungs to filter. The violent blood-chilling screech of that thing with no face replays over and over in my mind like a broken record. The image of its big, sharp teeth eating the poor deer will be engraved in my head forever. I can smell the old mouldy scent of the decaying trees. All that blood. My breathing is shallow as I claw the damp earth with my fingers. My pulse is loud in my ears and my mouth is dry. The darkness. The ash-like spores falling down from the sky like fluffy snowflakes. The gooey, slimy gunk clinging to the trees. I look down at my hands. It was all over me.

I sit up. My entire body trembling violently yet, I feel like I can’t move. Pressure builds in my chest like a balloon filled with helium. The pressure is so heavy in my chest, I can barely breathe. I look down at my clothes and all the grey goop slathered all over me. I feel sticky and dirty. I wipe the mysterious substance off my body but it only smears it across my jacket creating a stain. Tears brim my eyes clouding my vision.

“I-It’s not coming off,” I whimper, adding more pressure. “It’s not coming off!” I cry out growing more and more frantic. “I-I can’t get it off me!” I shout. “I-I can’t. I can’t!”

“Diana!” Jonathan shouts. “Hey!” I shiver against the cold hands holding my face. Jonathan wipes my tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “It’s gonna come off, okay? It’s gonna come off.” I nod my head in a daze. “Breathe, Diana. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”

All the adrenaline I had in that forest drains out of me and I am faced with the reality of the situation. I almost died. A sob shakes my body and I cling to Jonathan burying my face in the crook of his neck. My mind can’t process what I witnessed. It all felt like a crazy fever dream I couldn’t wake up from. But it was all real and I can’t stop crying.

“You’re safe,” Jonathan whispers in my ear. “You’re safe.”

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #steve harrington x sinclair!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc!reader #steve harrington x oc!reader

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thewordworrier · 3 months ago

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Heaven Ain't Got A Vacancy

[Siren gets herself in a spot of bother and contemplates her life choices.]

Word Count: 6,650 words. Warnings: Non-described implied character suffering. For a bit. Near death experience, I think. Notes: ~ Title from "Planetary (Go!)" by My Chemical Romance. ~ Uhhh. Something a little bit different I think. Slightly less bubbly, slightly different format. I saw an Instagram reel and my brain just started chewing. ~ Is this canon for this particular world? I don't know, maybe! Probably! ~ I'm a little bit... Uncertain about this one, but, I can't keep looking at it any more. So I'm gonna throw it out there. ~ Oh, and in case it's not clear, Siren is Shelly.

[Setting: the Danger Days AU. In some kinda BLI capture situation. This would be a smaller BLI building/base, a smaller team, I think. Not some giant HQ kinda building.]

Siren hissed, biting her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. She was trying so hard not to be too expressive, because she knew she was being watched and showing her feelings was obviously not a good idea here, but that… That hurt. That was… That was more pain than she’d ever felt in her entire life. Physically anyway. Emotional pain was different. Losing her family had been the most emotionally painful moment of her life.

Her first family anyway; her birth and blood family. Because she had a new family now, a found family. Her sweat and sand family, as Ghoul had said once. That had been funny, and had become some kinda running joke.

Her second family… That bunch of idiots. And she used that term affectionately. She hoped they were okay. She hoped she’d done enough to keep them safe. She hoped they wouldn’t be stupid. She hoped they would actually use their brains, stay away, use their brains and run. Not come for her. Because then they’d be falling into what she’d been scared of from the beginning of her time in the sand - getting someone hurt because she wasn’t enough. Enough anything in this case; smart enough to stay alive, good enough at fighting, fast enough at… Anything.

She swallowed down a groan. God, it seemed to be spreading. How fun. This hurt. Not that she was sure what “this” was - they’d forced her into taking something, but like hell did she know what. All she knew was that she was hooked up to something and everything hurt. It almost felt like the blood running through her veins was on fire. And she was feeling incredibly fuzzy.

If she was honest, she might even go as far to say that she might even be dying.

Siren had read once, before she ended up here and before she ended up in the Desert, that after the body gave in, the brain lived on for seven minutes. She’d also read that during those seven minutes, the brain would replay all of its fondest, favourite memories. Though, she did wonder what kind of order the memories would come in; whether they’d be oldest to newest, or if they’d be in some kind of countdown.

She had wondered if that was what people meant when they said that life flashed before your eyes before you died. Or did they say that your life flashed before your eyes when you were in danger of dying? She couldn’t remember. She had wondered at the time, which of the two would be better, but now she figured that she’d rather see all the “good things movie” instead of the “whole life movie” - because that second one might contain sad things.

Death was scary, and she didn’t want to be scared and sad. Although, if her brain was going to show her anything from her other life, with her blood family, that might be a little sad. But if she was in her final few moments, she’d hopefully be seeing them soon anyway.

Seven minutes.

A cluster of memories of herself and her blood family. She was still blonde. She was a bit younger, maybe a teenager? She was happy. It was a little fuzzy, but she knew that being happy with her family was a normal, standard state of mind. This memory might’ve been a birthday, or maybe Christmas, though she wasn’t sure. They were at a table, she was at the head end. Her mama was hugging her from the side and kissing the top of her head, while her grandparents sat either side of her.

These mental images were actually regular occurrences in her old family home; her being in the middle of her family. She even used to sit in the middle of her mother and grandmother on the sofa. Her grandfather would then sit slightly across from them in his own chair. Well. It was a slightly oversized chair - Siren could remember sitting next to him as a small child, and then as a bigger child, and then as a pre-teen. They used to read together a lot. He used to read to her, and she used to love every second of it.

She used to read with her grandfather, cook with her grandmother and craft with her mother. They all used to spend so much time together, all in the same room, sometimes doing their own thing. Sometimes her, her mother and her grandmother would all be doing something together, sometimes they’d pair off. But they spent a lot of time together. She’d often spend time crafting things with her mother, for her grandparents. Or she’d spend time with her grandparents, making things for her mother - normally she’d spend time with her grandmother for that, and then her grandfather would chip in at the end, or he’d help with the tougher stuff that her little hands couldn’t do. But her family was like that, they always helped each other.

They helped each other and looked after each other and liked spending time as a family unit. She always wanted to spend time with her family, she didn’t want to shut herself in her room on her own. Her mother was her best friend. She had, probably, the best childhood she could’ve ever wished for. She was loved and cared about, she was safe and secure. She wasn’t spoiled to the degree where she turned into a brat, but she didn’t really have to want for or worry about anything. And, it remained that way for most of her life.

Until one day, it all stopped and everything was taken away from her.

She tried not to think about that too much, if at all. She definitely tried not to think about anything in detail. That was just too much - too much pain, too much hurt, too much everything. And she didn’t like to feel that much hurt anymore.

She wished she could remember the smell of her mother’s perfume, the taste of her grandmother’s food and the sound of her grandfather’s laugh. But the thing she wished for the most was - she wished that she could remember the feel of their hugs. She loved everything about her family, and she missed everything, but there had been something so special about their hugs. Their hugs felt like home. And she missed her original home.

She wished she could’ve combined both of her families. That would’ve been the best thing. She loved her new family and the hugs she got from them, but… She missed her blood family. So, so much.

Six minutes.

A Desert memory. It was after she’d dyed her hair from the temporary red they’d dyed her blonde, just to help disguise her. That hadn’t lasted long; red was Poison’s colour after all. Her hair was dyed to the deep purply-blue she’d pounced on as soon as she saw it at the market, she was wearing better fitting boots and she had left the once-white BLI button up back on her cot. That meant that she was comfortable. They had been sitting around, either at a gig, or after one - they were hanging out as a group, other Killjoys milling about in the background. She felt happy, safe (as much as you could be out in the Zones) and accepted.

Seeing Party smiling, laughing across the circle, illuminated by the dim lights at night at that moment, was just a bonus. Never mind the fact that she was sure her heart stuttered at the sight. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain that they’d been sitting around a bonfire. Party had been lit up brighter (and he’d been hotter) than the flames that night. To her, at least.

She’d always thought he was pretty, but that was definitely a moment where she felt something more for him. A moment where she’d thought “...Oh. Well. Fuck.” She wasn’t sure if that had been the first moment, but it was definitely one she remembered because of the way he looked in the light, the way it looked like he had a fiery halo. Like some kind of… Neon angel. And, at the time, she’d thought that was pretty apt ‘cause he did save her from BLI after all.

As much as Siren loved the man (and she did, she really did) but she would (probably) never ever call him an angel to his face. She would probably never admit that, in that situation at the least, she needed saving, and he came along and did it. He did not need his ego inflating in the slightest, he was normally already cocky enough. She might admit it to Lux, perhaps, just never to him. She really did think that he’d saved her though, and not just from BLI.

Even if she didn’t know that she really needed saving at the time. Because, she never would’ve said anything of the sort if you had asked her while she’d been working for them; she would’ve said that she was fine, that she would rather stay in the City. But, he came along, made a mistake and accidentally stole her from them. And, as good as she’d had it in the City, she had it good in the Desert too. It was very different, of course but… She had them. She had him. And ultimately, she thought it was worth it.

Five minutes.

Another Desert memory, another group outing. This must’ve been during one of the Mad Gear gigs they’d gone to. She had been much, much more comfortable in her ‘Siren skin’ - as her new identity - and very secure in her place with the group. Ghoul had been especially extra flirty, Lux had even joined in a little and the others had been a bit more protective of her, and she had absolutely loved that. She felt so safe with them.

Looking back on it now, she knew that Lux had only been playing along with the flirting because it was winding up Party, because they had been encouraging him to actually make a move. Lux had been encouraging Siren to do the same thing - that’s why Siren had been dressed a little more provocatively that night. A lot more provocatively, actually. On purpose! She’d been dressed like that on purpose. Lux had encouraged it, and Siren had decided that it had been a good idea. She had wanted to tease Party a little. She wanted him to make the first move; just so she was sure that it was what he wanted, and because she was nervous!

She’d danced with the others in their group, even been flirted with by other Killjoys - much to Party’s displeasure, but she still kept returning to them. Every time someone else wanted to dance with her or after they’d flirted with her, she’d return to her group and one of them would pull her in, wrap an arm around her and shoot the ‘offender’ a look. Actually, Party would be shooting them a look while they were near her anyway, but she didn’t know that at the time.

It wasn’t until a tall, teal haired Killjoy (who’s name Siren didn’t quite catch) put his hands on her - slowly dragging one finger from the waistline of her shorts up the middle of her lace bodysuit - that Party appeared behind her. Party wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him and away from the other Killjoy who had been about an inch away from having his hand brushing against her chest. And Party obviously hadn’t liked that one bit.

“There you are,” Party’s voice had been more of a growl. “We were looking for you.”

That growl might’ve entered her ear but she had felt it over her entire body. She was certain that she might’ve trembled, or at the very least gotten goosebumps. She wasn’t sure if he had noticed that or not, but maybe he had because his grip on her waist tightened.

The teal haired Killjoy looked unamused and tried to protest, but Party almost hissed at him, cutting him off by moving to Siren’s side, his arm still around her waist tightly.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice definitely rougher. “You’re coming with me.”

That had been protective, maybe a little possessive and really rather hot. And sure, the whole group had been protective of her, maybe more so than normal, but Lux had told her later on that her behaviour had definitely pushed Party a bit closer to the edge.

She was incredibly grateful to later go on to find that Party would continue to be protective and possessive over her - both before and after they got together, except after they got together, he would dial up the intensity a bit. She’d act flirty when they were out (living up to her name a little bit but nothing too much), he’d watch her like a hawk, and step in if he thought the other Killjoy was going too far. If he had to step in, it wasn’t because she’d gone too far - Siren was normally very good. But if he had to step in, he would either make a point in front of the Killjoy he was removing her from, or he’d get possessive when they got home. Sometimes, especially if she was a bit cheeky about it, he’d do both.

Siren would be lying if she said that she never played up to it to provoke him a little bit sometimes. The aftermath was always very, very hot and always left her feeling very, very wanted.

Four minutes.

This memory was the first time Party Poison kissed her. One arm around her waist, the other hand cupping her cheek. It had been wonderful and desperately wanted. And, if you listened to the others, a long time coming.

It had definitely been worth the wait, as was evident by the fact that once she’d had that first kiss, she just couldn’t get enough. Thankfully, neither could he because from that moment, he could barely keep his hands off of her.

Once they finally got themselves together, Party always seemed to be within arms’ reach of her. If he wasn’t kissing her, he was touching her - even if that was just wrapping an arm around her waist, or hooking his fingers into the belt loops of her shorts. And every time their relationship advanced a little physically? He got even worse, he was even more touchy feely, and spent more time kissing her at every opportunity. It got to the point where the others ended up rolling their eyes and almost yelling at him. It got to the point where she had to tell him off because that was the only way he’d listen.

Actually, she thought that was glorious. She never thought that she’d be wanted like that, even less so when she lost her family - because life with her family had been practically perfect and she’d had so much hope for her future and everything. And that dropped down to zero when she started working for BLI. Because they just didn’t allow for that - there was practically minimal free time, and if you were given permission to date, it was via some match they gave you, made with some programme, and it was supervised and… It was all so clinical.

But he’d come along and had changed that. The Desert had given her hope again, the group had made her think that she’d be okay, and Poison had definitely made her feel worth it and wanted.

Their first kiss had definitely been one for the books, definitely something that she had never forgotten, definitely one she remembered very fondly. But, every kiss got better and better. She didn’t regret a single one. And more importantly, she couldn’t find it in her to even try. There was nothing anyone could say, or anything that anyone could do that would ever make her regret her relationship with the red-head. There was definitely nothing that could be said or done that would ever make her regret their first kiss.

Three minutes.

Oh. Siren was certain that she’d be blushing if she was able to. Or if there was anyone around to witness her expression - they would certainly tell you that she had blushed when this came to mind. This memory was of the first time her and Poison were completely, physically intimate. The first time they went the whole way, to use an older turn of phrase. It had been - he had been - sweet and considerate. And he’d used her City name. She remembered that much. It had been so sweet of him to do that, to agree to the silly little request that she’d had. It had taken her by surprise, even though he’d said he’d do it, after she’d asked (very shyly), and it had nearly brought her to tears. She hadn’t expected it to mean that much to her, she hadn’t expected to miss her… City self, as much as she had. He’d indulged her with that one request, and that had meant everything to her.

He had been patient and kind, sweet and reassuring and… He’d almost seemed in awe of her. That had been the most incredible thing to her; the fact that he’d looked at her like… The way that he had. Like she was so special, like she was… Almost rare? Like she was worth it. And that feeling had been… Strange to her. It always had been up until that moment, and continued to be strange. Right until BLI had put their hands on her and she ended up here.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that he cared, that she was special to him, that she was wanted, because eventually she did (and truthfully it didn’t even take her that long to believe him). It was just… Somehow, she was still always surprised when she caught him looking at her like that.

If the others were to be believed, he had always looked at her that way.

Two minutes.

“I love you, Siren.”

Before her brain could even start delving into that memory, Siren was surprised to feel a sensation - she didn’t expect to feel anything in this state. The sensation Siren felt was a pair of cold hands on her face. That was a bit weird, none of her Killjoy’s hands were ever that cold. Or rough, actually. Well, they could be a little rough but this was a different feeling. This didn’t feel like skin, or the leather of Party’s driving gloves (and she was very familiar with how those felt)… It did feel like fabric but it didn’t feel like a fabric she could immediately recognise.

“Oh my child,” a voice echoed. It sounded feminine but also… It didn’t? It definitely sounded… Almost staticy but definitely kind of rough. “My dear child...”

There was only one… Person. Could you call them a person? Were they more of an… Entity? There was only one… Being! That was a good word. There was only one Being that that voice could belong to. “You must be the Phoenix Witch.”

“Ah, so you are aware.” Their hands ran over Siren’s hair, gently and slowly, actually more in a soothing gesture.

“Of course, I don’t think there’s any Killjoy who isn’t aware of you.”

Normally, Siren would be a little weirded out by the touching but… She was scared of what was coming for her, and frankly, the touches were nice. They were almost comforting. And Siren really, really welcomed that right at that moment.

“Not everyone believes in me though,” the Witch said, pausing for a moment before she continued. “Do you believe?”

“I don’t see any reason not to.”

The Witch hummed and fell silent for a moment. Siren could still feel the hands on her face.

“You are heavy with sadness,” the Witch said quietly, about a minute later.

“Well duh,” Siren would’ve rolled her eyes if she could. “I’m dying and I don’t want to be.”

“You are spirited. I do like that,” the hands gently caressed her face, the thumbs gently running over her closed eyes. “Why don’t you want to be dying?”

“I guess I’m not ready? I don’t feel like this would… Would be a good way for me to go?” Siren felt the hands lift off of her face and, once they were gone, she found that she could open her eyes. She blinked a few times before looking up from her feet to see the Phoenix Witch looking at her. Siren swallowed a little bit and the volume of her voice dropped as she broke eye contact with the Witch. She nibbled her bottom lip, knowing that the Witch was urging her to continue. “I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to leave him.”

“Mm hm, that’s what I thought.”

Siren twitched her limbs for a moment only to find that she didn’t ache or hurt. That surprised her, and confused her a little bit. It unnerved her and actually, it scared her more than anything else. Because she’d heard that if you’d been suffering (in whatever form) and then you start feeling good again - then the end is normally not too far away. So the fact that she wasn’t hurting did not make her feel good.

She looked around to find herself still in a similar chair, but she wasn’t hooked up to anything. And she was surrounded by sand. She blinked rapidly and frowned, clearly confused. She glanced around again before focussing on something a little further in the distance. It looked like The Diner.

This... Couldn’t be real?

“You’re in a type of limbo right now; you’ve been taken out of the… Disagreeable location and put in something a little more… Familiar.”

Siren jumped. “Could you maybe not read my mind like that?”

The Phoenix Witch giggled. “I’m not sorry about that I’m afraid.”

Siren frowned at her. “I mean, fair, I suppose. I guess this is your… Domain? So it’s only fair that you can do what you want.”

“You are absolutely correct!”

Despite the fact that the Witch didn’t really have a visible mouth, Siren knew she was smiling. Actually, she was probably grinning, judging by the tone of her voice.

“Well,” Siren sighed. “A broken clock is still right twice a day.”

“Stop that,” the Witch tutted. “You’re smart.”

“I wasn’t smart enough to not get myself into this situation,” she shook her head a little bit before she tried to swallow back some tears. “I hope I haven’t gotten them hurt.”

“You’re smart and you care.”

“Of course I care,” Siren almost hissed. “They took me in. They could’ve left me. But they took me in to fix their mistake. And because of that, I fell in love.”

“Ah, yes, the red-head,” the Witch nodded. “You two are very good together.”

Siren beamed for a moment at that statement, before her expression saddened. “I wish it was all different, I wish we could’ve had a traditional future, but if this is the end, I’m glad I’ve known them. I’m glad I’ve known him.”

“You have grown into yourself more since joining them.”

“I don’t regret it,” Siren shook her head. “I don’t regret any of it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t wish it had been different.”

“That is very true. That’s a valid thing to feel.”

“I… I do wish I wasn’t alone right now though… But I don’t think I’d want them to see this either.”

The Witch sighed. “Your heart is so big, you care so much.”

“It’s a skill I guess,” Siren shrugged a little bit. “Maybe even a weakness.”

“Not in the Desert,” the Witch shook her head. “You’re supposed to feel things and care here. It’s allowed. More importantly, it’s encouraged. And you know that.”

“I… I guess, yeah.”

There was silence for a few moments, the Witch observing the Killjoy, although she was purposely not reading the girl’s mind. She didn’t need to do that to see that Siren was both sad, so incredibly sad, and maybe even a little uncomfortable. The Witch wasn’t sure why that second feeling was there, she knew Siren wasn’t feeling any pain. She couldn’t while she was here.

“Why did you come back, Siren?” The Witch asked. “You escaped them once.”

Siren looked up at the Witch, and snorted slightly. “It wasn’t exactly out of choice.”

“Which bit? Leaving or coming back?”

She raised an eyebrow at the Witch. “Both.”

She nodded. “Quick girl.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t exactly out of choice, either time, but this time they dragged be back kicking and…” Siren paused. “Well, not screaming, but biting.”

This response seemed to amuse the Witch. “I thought Sirens were supposed to be vocal?”

The Killjoy raised an eyebrow at her and smiled a little flirtily. “I certainly can be, you wanna test that?”

“Hmn! You’re quite the funny girl.”

When the Witch didn’t elaborate on that statement, or give her an answer to her question, Siren just shook her head.

“I’d rather be back with the others,” she said softly. “We weren’t doing any harm. I just want to be back with my friends.” Siren paused and the volume of her voice dropped even more as she avoided making eye contact with the Witch. “Back with Red…”

The Phoenix Witch looked her over for a solid minute, clearly thinking about something. Contemplating. Seeing, maybe, if rumours about the Phoenix Witch were to be believed. Although it certainly felt longer to Siren, who shifted under her gaze, and dropped her eyes so she was staring at the floor.

“You don’t have your mask on,” the Phoenix Witch said finally.

Siren shook her head. “Of course not. They took it off of me.”

“You’re supposed to die with your mask on.”

“I would have! I would… Be?” Siren shook her head again, slowly this time. “If I had it!”

The Witch sighed and lifted Siren’s chin with a finger. “You can only die with your mask on.”

Siren blinked rapidly as the Phoenix Witch slowly cupped her hands around Siren’s face again. The gesture and the words felt purposeful. “O- Oh?”

The Witch gave the Killjoy a look, wondering if she would figure it out. When she got a slight shake of the head in response, the Witch gently squeezed Siren’s cheeks.

“I cannot, and will not, take you without your mask.”

Siren’s eyes widened, and watched as the Witch removed her hands from her face before she took a step back.

“Besides,” the Witch continued, almost thoughtfully, as she folded her arms and tilted her head. “I don’t think it’s quite your time. I think there’s something you haven’t done yet.”

“What…” Siren blinked rapidly at the Witch. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t know, can’t tell you,” the Witch replied quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Hmn, I think you do know,” Siren narrowed her eyes. “Maybe not exactly but I think you know something.”

“Don’t be too smart,” she tapped Siren’s nose gently and chuckled when the Killjoy scrunched her nose up.

“Lemme guess,” Siren continued as she eyed the Witch. “You know more than you’re letting on but you can’t say because, something something, changing the timeline?”

Despite the full face mask she wore, Siren could tell that the Phoenix Witch was smiling, and that made her smile a little in response.

“Anyway,” the Witch returned to holding Siren’s face. “I cannot take you without your mask, young lady.”

Siren giggled before smiling.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The Witch shook her head before she squeezed Siren’s cheeks, using her thumbs to gently close Siren’s eyes.

“So I’m gonna need you to go back and get it. You have to die with your mask on, Killjoy.”

While this conversation was happening, the rest of the Fabulous Killjoys were hunting down their missing member. They’d managed to find the building with little effort, and they’d even managed to get inside. It didn’t seem to be as manned as they’d anticipated. Nor was it as up to date as some other locations. Jet Star would later theorise that maybe this ‘mission’ was an unsanctioned one and that maybe Siren wasn’t on their radar at all.

While the building wasn’t as big on the outside as most, the inside was more like a small labyrinth with too many corridors, which was a surprise. You wouldn’t think that it would be like that if you looked at it from the outside. So, it took them a little bit longer to get through to the inner rooms.

Once they’d gotten that far though, it was much easier to divide and conquer in their search for their missing friend.

Ghoul, the swift thing he was, almost darted past the door frame that led to the room Siren was in. He almost missed the doorway but he backtracked and stuck his head into the room. You could see the exclamation point light up about his head and he called back into the corridor behind him.

“Found her!”

Party Poison appeared by Ghoul’s side faster than they thought even Lux could run. Ghoul only just had enough time to get out of the way so the red-head could get into the small room. He practically skidded to a stop before rushing into the room and over to the chair.

“Siren!”

Ghoul bit his bottom lip but turned his back to the pair - both to give them some privacy and also to keep watch. It didn’t stop him from being able to hear what was going on behind him though.

“Siren!” Party tugged at the restraints a little before cupping her face. “Hey, I’m here now, I’m here, it’s okay.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Party gently shaking her.

“Wake up,” Party had to swallow. “Siren, honey please wake up.”

Ghoul bit his bottom lip and quickly turned back around in case Party caught him watching them, during a pretty vulnerable moment. Seeing someone be vulnerable and hearing them be vulnerable were two different things after all.

“Just because I originally found you like this, doesn’t mean I’m returning you!” Party said, a little louder, sounding desperate as he tried to wake the girl. “I’m not trying to undo the last… However long! You belong with us, Siren!” Party swallowed and almost choked out the next words. “You belong with me.”

The man in the doorway gulped. Ghoul could hear the stress and the fear in their leader’s voice. He wasn’t really used to hearing him sound like that. Ghoul wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard Party sound like that. Kobra, yeah, when Lux was taken and they hadn’t mobilised as quickly as the taller man had wanted, but Party? Not to his knowledge or recollection.

Party, on his knees on the floor in front of her, eventually managed to untie her - shaky hands were definitely a massive hindrance. That made him feel better, and had he not been so panicked, he might’ve questioned why BLI had used such… Weak? Restraints. He half expected her to move, or to slide off of the chair and into his lap, but she remained in the seat. That had to be a good sign, right? That she wasn’t that weak? He leant up as much as he needed to hold her face.

“C’mon girl, please. You can’t leave us. Lux is gonna be so cross!”

Ghoul winced from the doorway. The longer this went on, the more broken Party sounded. And he really didn’t like that in the slightest. Part of him hoped the others wouldn’t have to see or hear this; hear him, see Siren - but the rest of him hoped they’d show up soon. He had the feeling that, if this went really, really south, he’d need their help to remove Party, and to grab Siren. Because there’s no way that their leader would let them leave her here. To be honest, Ghoul wouldn’t let them leave her here either, and he doubted Lux would. They wouldn’t let BLI keep her.

“You can’t leave me, you can’t,” Party gently squeezed her cheeks in an affectionate manner. His voice had taken on that false happy tone you use when you’re trying to convince someone else that you’re not about to break. “You don’t have your mask on! You can’t die without your mask on!”

It was at this point, with those words, in Siren’s limbo, that the Phoenix Witch’s voice started merging with someone else’s and Siren frowned. She couldn’t quite tell who’s voice it was and she was unable to open her eyes again, like she had in the beginning. She wasn’t sure if she could feel someone’s thumbs on her eyes, but she was a little more certain that someone was holding her face. It felt like a different pair of hands - they didn’t feel bandaged like the Witch’s were. The more time passed without her being able to open her eyes, the less the voice sounded like the Witch and the more it sounded like someone else.

Party looked her over again and finally saw that she was hooked up to a small machine. There didn’t seem to be a heart monitor so he couldn’t tell what was going on, whether it would be safe to turn the machine off or not - but a part of him thought that it would be a bit more obvious, more hospital like if they were actually monitoring her properly, so he assumed that it would be okay to turn the machine off.

So he did, even if his hands shook while he did it, even if he held his breath, because he honestly wasn’t sure if this was going to help her or hurt her. He just hoped that it was going to help her. He wasn’t ready to lose her. Then again, he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to lose her. He definitely didn’t want to lose her like this.

He exhaled as the dial on the machine clicked down into the off position - because he’d learnt that it was better to turn these things off slowly and not just all at once. His hand dropped to his side and he listened for a moment before turning on his heel and going to kneel back in front of Siren. Although, he focused on removing the tiny tube from her, quickly pressing his bandana to where it had been attached in case she started bleeding. He spent a couple of quiet moments checking on this, actually a bit worried that the small wound wasn’t filling with blood. He swallowed hard, gently tied the fabric around the wound and moved to touch her face again.

“I love you, Siren, please don’t leave me.”

Siren recognised the voice that time. She tried to move a bit but her arm felt heavy, and she wasn’t quite able to open her eyes yet. For a moment, she was terrified that the Witch had taken her sight in order to send her back but… Surely the Witch would’ve told her if that was going to be the case? Siren hoped so. She decided to go with the belief that she just needed time, maybe a little energy to be back on this “plane” so to speak.

While she thought that she hadn’t moved, Party had noticed her eyelids flutter - ever, ever so slightly. He was paying incredibly close attention to her after all. He blinked rapidly and he shifted away from her for a moment, removing a hand from her face to hold one of hers. His thumb stroked her cheek and he tried to divide his attention between watching her face and watching her hand.

“Siren?” He whispered before feeling her fingers twitch. “Siren!”

Ghoul spun on his heel at the louder call of her name. “Is she -?”

Party didn’t take his eyes off of his girl. “Siren? C’mon girl, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. It’s me, and no agents, you’re safe. I just need you to come back to me.”

Her fingers moved against his again and his eyes widened. He let go of her face and took both of her hands in his, gently squeezing her hands. Just for a little bit before he watched her for another moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

He wasn’t to know that him doing that was actually a massive help, a massive jumpstart of energy that Siren needed - it was almost like the Phoenix Witch knew that he’d be there when she woke up.

Party swore that he felt her warm up. He wasn’t totally sure though, so he probably wouldn’t mention anything to anyone - except maybe her later on, if she felt like talking about it. But, he kept kissing her, just little pecks on her lips or cheeks. Until he felt her kiss him back.

Ghoul had been watching this until Party started kissing her. He pulled a slight face at that point and started to turn around until he heard their leader squeak. By the time he turned to face them again, Siren had her hand on the back of Party’s neck to hold him close.

“Ew,” Ghoul choked out a little, trying to be his usual playful, flirty self about it but really, he was happy that she seemed to be okay. Instead of watching them again, he began to search the room quickly, just in case there was something useful around. “Can you two not? Can you maybe wait until we get back?”

Party pulled away from her enough to rest his head against hers. He felt her move her head a little to press a kiss to his forehead

“You okay?” He asked, trying not to get emotional. Not yet anyway. They weren’t home yet.

Siren smiled, nodded a little and hummed. “Think so. Ask me later.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” she grinned tiredly at him. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” Party moved to his feet and held out his hands. “Ready Ghoul?”

Ghoul checked one last drawer. “Yup, all good.”

Siren went to take Party’s hands but her legs wobbled. “Oh no, I don’t know if I can -”

Party and Ghoul looked at each other for a moment before Ghoul just grinned; they clearly had the same idea.

“I’ve got your back,” he said, nodding for Party to go ahead and grab her.

The red-head rolled his eyes with a smile and sighed before stepping forward and hoisting Siren up over his shoulder. She squealed a bit.

“Hey!”

“Well, this is familiar,” Party gave her rear a slight pat - a double tap even.

“And I still don’t like it,” she protested before squirming. “Seriously, please carry me another way if you’re gonna carry me.”

Ghoul shook his head, waiting in the doorway.

Party put her down and immediately had to steady her. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. Let’s keep you the right side up this time.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I agree, actually,” Ghoul said, sticking his head out of the door. “Seeing you wobble like that wasn’t good.”

Siren squeaked as Party picked her up again, bridal style this time. She raised an eyebrow at him, only getting a bright smile in return. For some reason, this made her blush.

“I’ll be okay,” she held onto him tightly, despite the fact that she knew that he could hold her up like this. “Can we get out of here now?”

#She Speaks #She Writes #my fanfic #Gerard Way x FOC #Danger Days AU #MCR fanfic

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

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just a thought, but have you ever considered solomon and mc ACTUALLY getting married, or maybe getting engaged if we were to soften the blow a bit for the rest of the crew??? bc w everything going on in nightbringer, solomon and mc getting closer, “””jokes””” about them being a married couple, and solomon deadass admitting he prefers to keep things as it is now without the brothers getting in his way😭😭😭i wouldn’t be surprised if solomon actually got on his knee and popped a ring, he gotta keep his pookie close🤞

now if solomon and mc were to ever become actually exclusive (instead of an openness within their relationship, unlike how mc has practically kissed each and every brother without making any statement about being official) how do you think that would that go over with the past versions of the cast? heck, to bring up the severity of this, what if solomon and mc finally getting thrown back into the present/future and that’s when everyone finds out about the engagement??

id like to think, depending on which timeline we’re going with, there’d be varied reactions but somewhat the same. i think past versions of the brothers would react….severely, especially when only they’re getting accustomed to being a demon. i mean, in the recent chap 22 (spoilers) mammon is slowly but surely growing into being the avatar of greed that he reacted very harshly when levi saved mc from falling. that alone, triggered mammon to turn into his demon form and threatened to fight everyone who laid a hand on mc💀the brothers couldn’t even handle him at the time. now, i’m a firm believer that a sensitive time such as that would only ensue in some crazy drama😭 it could only culminate in chaos. maybe who knows, the solomon hate train would start a millenial earlier.

but if we were to go with future/present brothers, it wouldn’t be anything drastic, physically at least. bc at least the brothers have fully grown into being demons and can control themselves. but that wouldn’t stop the pettiness that would transpire. they still care about mc, and to see mc obviously care and have this fondness over solomon that they all crave for, they wouldn’t lay a hand on him for mc’s sake. at least you can sleep well with that thought❤️ still, the hate for solomon would skyrocket to the heavens. they go from being distrustful and wary of solomon’s intentions to actually straight up being solomon’s main haters.

hmm hmm…i dunno. this could result in many varying scenarios. and at a time where mc goes missing from the present timeline and the brothers are most likely losing their minds without mc, only for them to come back and deliver the worst news……….low blow, really. but yk what would be the lowest blow? if mc was the one who proposed to solomon instead. anyways, not to sidetrack, but i like to think present lucifer would be in heavy denial for some time LMFAO the first time he’d hear about mc and solomon, luci is probably the type to just completely disregard it and—not act—truly believe that it’s not real, which this perception borders irrationally. with levi and especially mammon, they’re practically two beat up puppies. while levi would sulk and let his misery fester in the close quarters of his room, mammon would not hesitate to make his feelings of betrayal known out loud. the rest of the brothers would act on the same spectrum, utter heartbreak. even beel would sit mc down at times and have long conversations with them about their decision to be seriously romantically involved with a man like solomon.

i think it’d be devastating. they should be happy, but dont forget that they’re the avatars of the seven original sins.

ps: sorry for the long ramble😭 i’ve been thinking about this since replaying some of the chapters of nightbringer…so my characterization of the brothers might be off. and idk much about the side characters. i just don’t want to think about what barbatos would do.

You're good, anon! I will always encourage rambling in my ask box! I love hearing all your thoughts!

So okay, I've thought about marriage with all the characters a little bit, but I don't think I've actually seriously considered what everybody's reactions would be!

I do think Solomon has gotten more possessive and jealous in Nightbringer, but I also think this could be because he's expressing himself a little more freely than he did before. In the OG, I always felt like he was holding himself back because he genuinely believed that MC would never choose him. In Nightbringer, though, I think he's either finding it harder to do that because he lives with them now or he just doesn't want to keep backing off when he clearly loves MC so much. I could definitely see him asking MC to marry him if he thought it was a good time.

I also think the reactions would vary depending on timeline, as you said. And I fully agree with you - if it happened while they were in the past, as things are right now, it'd be absolute chaos. I don't think Solomon is dumb enough to do something like that. He seems pretty determined to get himself and MC back to their own time. And even if he really wants to marry MC, I think he wouldn't propose while they were in the past for the very reasons you list. The demons are not stable and it just isn't worth the risk.

Now, in the present/future timeline, I think things would be far safer for him to actually propose. The demons are more stable, MC isn't really dealing with anything that could change the course of their lives, all that stuff.

If we consider how it would go before MC was unceremoniously chucked into the past, I think that would be the most stable and least dangerous scenario. MC has been living with the brothers for a while, they haven't been exclusive with anyone, and they haven't made any promises to anyone about being exclusive. It's a little weird if we think of it in terms of the generic OM MC because that MC has definitely been involved with everybody at some point. But this would differ depending on different people's versions of MC. But going with the general MC, yeah, I think most of the brothers would be upset about it.

Like if MC is gonna marry someone, it should at least be one of their brothers, right?! I think all the brothers would be okay with it if MC married Lucifer, for instance. They'd be like annoyed it wasn't them, but also just... they get it, you know?

But Solomon? No way. Lucifer himself would lose his mind. Luci's dislike of Solomon might make him try to talk MC out of it. If Solomon asked for Luci's permission, he'd only make it worse. 'Cause Lucifer'd be like no, get out. And I agree, I think he'd be in denial about MC wanting to marry Solomon. I agree with your assessment of Levi and Mammon's reactions, too.

I think they'd all take it pretty hard, but in the end, I also think they'd come around to MC's decision.

Now if MC came back from the past and was all oh yeah I'm engaged to Solomon? Yeah, no that reaction would be INTENSE. I think MC should probably wait a while before telling them that. Let them get over the fact that MC just disappeared on them first.

And honestly, I think if MC proposed to Solomon instead, everything might go a little bit better. Because if Solomon is the one proposing, the brothers will see that as this shady sorcerer stole away our human and that's unacceptable. We can maybe talk MC out of this! We can maybe influence this choice if we complain enough!

But if MC is the one proposing, then they know that it was always MC's choice. They would see it less as Solomon influencing MC and more like MC came to the decision on their own. Just because they love Solomon. And while I think that would be more devastating for them and likely result in a lot of heartbreak, I think they'd be less likely to fight MC on it. Because in the end, they do want MC to be happy.

OH MAN I think past!Barbatos would not be pleased about such an arrangement! He hates Sol's guts right now, so I can't imagine that going well. Future/present Barbatos on the other hand... I think we'd be dealing with another heartbreak situation. He was just beginning to develop feelings for MC. So I think he would be sad, but also happy for them. Because that version of Barbatos loves MC and he cares about Solomon, too. And I think he'd want them to be happy. And I kinda think that's how it would go for the rest of the side characters, too. Diavolo and Simeon both don't strike me as the types that would like try to talk them out of it or cause any anguish for them over it. I think they'd be sad to lose MC, but happy that their friends are in love, you know?

The brothers are just too attached to MC to really go that route without trying to talk them out of it. And also we know they really don't trust Solomon. Present/future Asmo might be the only one who sides with MC, though probably pretty reluctantly and that only because he actually likes Solomon in a way none of the other brothers do.

Wow I feel like there is just so much angst potential with this scenario! But I love the idea of MC marrying Solomon, even it makes things difficult for the brothers lol.

#obviously I'm biased #but I think Sol would be such a cute lil husband #while also being a total troublemaker #he'd make the whole situation worse #by being smug about it #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #anon asks #misc answers

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eldaryasharbinger · 1 month ago

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MCL New Gen Ep. 6 Review!

I'm writing this today so I honestly don't know how much of what I wanted to say I still remember, but since I'm behind with my usual reviews, I think it's about time I catch up so that I can release the one for the controversial episode 8 as soon as I get the time to play it

As per usual, everything is below the cut!

As many might already know, I've had to play this episode THREE times since I struggled finding Jason so much,, That's also why with the following episodes I waited a couple of days before playing, so that I could find guides online to help me save AP,,

I remember really enjoying this episode despite having to play it so many times, but I also feel like I got to explore it a lot since I was trying to do things differently each time.

The first time I went and did everything with Amanda (I think...) and it was so sweet! Second time I went with Thomas, and this was the episode that really made me interested in him as a LI, so much that I kept hanging out with him during my third replay, and he was also the one who came "to my rescue" after Jason's scene

I think that as of now, having played episode 7 as well, this is still my favorite episode, due to all the activities, how the events aren't following a specific script and can be played randomly (haunted house/fortune teller and so on, they aren't in a particular order)

It was also really nice seeing our coworkers in different clothing, I only wish that Elenda and Brune had different outfits too, but I suppose that since they aren't LI's, they didn't bother (maybe after a certain number of episodes we can get different looks for everyone? Like updated sprites? I think it would be nice, it would also show the story and time progression)

I absolutely LOVED Amanda with her hair down, I sincerely can't get enough of her!! I also really loved her outfit and the orange compliments her well, I even made a joke about her resembling the Lesbian flag... I also kinda liked her outfit better than our own haha,, Maybe one day we'll get something similar... One can only dream about that "cardigan"</3

THIS HAD ME GOING CRAZY I SWEAR, because the possibility for an angst one-sided plot for my candy and Thomas is SOOOOOO appealing to me, so much that it inspired me a lot and I added it in her character bio... We can't be sure if the one the fortune teller was referring to is actually our candy or not, but I kind of hope so... If not, I'm sure it'll have a play in future episodes. When I went with Amanda it said something about her having a secret, which basically translates to = her being in the closet, so that's why I'm sure this is something we should keep it mind, wether the fortune teller was right or not (referring to what she tells Thomas!!)

"Boyfriend behaviour" That's what I wrote to remind me what I wanted to say about these screenshots HAHA, and even though I had to watch this scene three times, it still made me giggle each time,, I do also like the idea of them being just friends or a bromance, but I also started loving the idea of Devon x Roy after this episode so much, I highly doubt it'll be real but It would be so cool if characters could progress with each other if you're not on their route, again, very unlikely for Beemoov to do this since I was rooting for Mathieu and Koori SO HARD (still am, idc😭) but it never really happened (I never finished ANE so idrk if it does happen but I'm sure I would've known... I'm currently saving maana so that maybe I can finish the last episodes I miss all at once, I'm currently at 21k maana and I think I was on episode 10/11, so I need about 30k,,)

This was from the second or third replay, instead of going with Amanda I got curious and went with Thomas... I mean you all already know about this by now

I've said this plenty of times in many occasions but I'm genuinely so happy that the way Candy acts is well aligned with how I imagined Petronilla, it's so cute and probably the main reason as why I enjoy the story so much, the only ooc (out of character) moment with her was having to say that pets aren't like actual children 🥲 Neither Petronilla nor I, who has one 10 y.o. dog and two cats, would ever say such thing, but it was required for Jason's LOM so I had to endure 😭🙏🏻

The things I have to do for that British Cigarette...

I wish I had taken more screenshots of this but I was tired from replaying the stupid episode over and over again,, Still this was so unexpected to me, since I really didn't expect Thomas and Amanda to argue about it, maybe I could see Amanda being like this since so far Petronilla was hanging out and doing her work projects with her (whenever Jason wasn't an option) so I viewed them as being rather friendly with each other/close, and also because before this episode Petronilla barely interacted with Thomas, but the way he is suddenly interested... Maybe he got surprised to see her in more "darker" clothing (I started New Gen with a more demure look for Petronilla and slowly but surely made her into the alt y2k princess she is now... so to justify that I decided that she went to work in more simole clothing because she wasn't sure about dress codes etc, so that must've been one of the first times she felt comfortable and wanted to go in a more "her" outfit) and got impressed by how she was down to do every kind of ride... Just thinking about it makes me giggle and wiggle my legs 😭😭🙏🏻 (me, a grown adult, acting like this... well in my defense I'm 1) autistic and 2) I don't think my frontal lobe has fully developed anyways, I'm only turning 21 in November so I'll use that as an excuse...) (Also I'm sorry if it's getting confusing with all these parentheses,,)

The Illustration with Thomas and the scene playing before it was really good and I loved it! Again, this was the episode that made me fall for him,,

This was hilarious 😭 It also gave me the idea of making Petronilla a little gluttonous... I'm a little conflicted about this since she's diabetic and should probably check her values and stuff, but from having a diabetic best friend, I've learned to always have snacks with me for everytime he's got low values and asks me "so... you got anything super sweet to eat?" so I guess it could've been something similar, she had her values a little all over the place so she had to eat to balance it out, but ended up overdoing it because she really liked the food there... I'm also a bit uncertain since I'm still trying to learn more about this disability, both because so I can keep an eye on my friend and because I can make Petronilla as accurate as possible, I did decide to make her diabetic for the first reason and because I HAVE to know about diabetes to make a diabetic oc (I told my friend I made her like this in his honor too haha)

Although some people said that it was disgusting, I thought it was pretty funny how despite her being sick, Jason didn't get turned off or anything, he must really like her to also lend her his napkin (I can't spell the proper word lol) and even give her a bottle of water

Like, sure, say that "it's disgusting" but also stay there and help her out... He must be really into her if the gReAt Jason stays after "una figura di merda" like that one😭🙏🏻

And last but not least... This damned Jason illustration and moment 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

I have to admit that he's looking rather unflattering (just to not call him ugly but it's now pointless since I did anyway) Like idk there's just something off with his face, but aside that it's very pretty! I still liked the idea of the Illustration, I'm also happy that the outfit for him was a "cute" pink dress, instead of something "sexy" or idk, I think it's much cuter if the "womanizer" is actually fascinated by a girl that isn't wearing things that are considered "hot" or whatever (my personal preference, not trying to imply anything, I just like pretty things over sexy things, might be because I'm ace, might not, idk)

And I think that's all I want to say,, I'm sorry if this review isn't "good" like the others, but it's been a couple of months now and I don't really know what else to say, I also did like the special scene because it fit once again with my idea of Petronilla, her doing whatever Jason wanted although she didn't really know why she was doing it when she could've refused... Denial is a river in Egypt typa thing...

But yeah, I hope this was still interesting to someone although it's very late and kind of all over the place,, So sorry,,

That being said, thanks for reading, I'll try to finish the one for ep 7 tonight so that hopefully I'll finally play Episode 8 tomorrow and be ready for it's review! Sorry for dragging things so much but I started writing this an hour ago,, I'm also too tired to get my pc and play it today, I'd rather go take the nap I wanted to one hour ago and maybe read a book later😭🙏🏻

#I think this is the worst review since I feel like I've been talking about anything else but the episode itself #maybe I'm tripping and really need that nap #mcl new gen #my candy love new gen #my candy love #beemoov #beemoov games #amour sucre #corazon de melon #dolce flirt #mcl #mcl ng #mcl ng episode 6 #eldaryasharbinger review

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startanewdream · 1 year ago

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As the anon who asked you about Mcgonagall earlier, I��m gonna need you to write that version of SWM, please and thank you xxx

In spite of her very vocal defense of him minutes earlier, Professor McGonagall did not seem glad when she answered the door and found Harry there.

"Potter," she greeted curtly, looking down the hall, though it was empty.

"Professor." He bit his lips, suddenly unsure. There had been no hesitation when Harry turned back on his way to the North Tower, but now, looking upon Professor McGonagall's severe face, he wondered if he had made a mistake—he would talk to Sirius after classes—"Is Professor Umbridge still there?"

Her lips twitched for a moment. "No, Dolores has left. We agreed to postpone the remaining meetings for tomorrow."

"Hum. That's nice." He doubted anyone else's Career Advice would be so upsetting, though.

"Shouldn't you be in class now?"

Harry did, but he didn't answer her. Professor McGonagall had been most passionate in his defense, something that felt so warming and comforting this year—so far from Dumbledore's distance—and there was a memory replaying on his mind...

A smile on Professor McGonagall's thin lips. Your father would have been proud.

"I was wondering if I could ask for your advice, Professor."

"Our meeting is concluded, Potter, and in the current climate, it would not be wise—"

"Not career advice, Professor, actually about—about my father."

Professor McGonagall blinked. She glanced up and down the empty hallway once again, and Harry could see her weighting the risk—if Umbridge had lost her marbles when Professor McGonagall had defended Harry's career choices, how would she react upon finding out that Harry had asked about his family—he had a sudden vision of Professor McGonagall being dragged in front of the Minister while Umbridge laughed—

"Sorry, Professor," he said hastily, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have—"

"No," she said, seemingly agreeing with him; and then Professor McGonagall took a step to the side. "Come inside, I will make some tea."

Harry smile grateful, but Professor McGonagall was already walking back to her table. She lit the fireplace, and the moment that the door closed behind Harry, she twisted her wand; a bright cat sprouted to life, passing through the door.

"Just in case," she whispered to herself. When the kettle was inside the fireplace, she sat in front of Harry, hands clasped; this was not very encouraging. "Why do you need advice about your father, Potter?"

"Ah—I saw—I shouldn't—I was wondering how he was."

A tiny frown appeared between her eyes. "Perhaps this is something you should discuss with—" She glanced at the door, though it was still closed, her patronus out of sight, "—others who might have been closer to him."

"I—" He didn't think it was a good idea to discuss his plans for later. "You once told me that my father would have been proud of me because he was an excellent Quidditch player."

Her face relaxed a little. "Yes, he would."

Showing off with that stupid Snitch...

"Would he be proud because of other stuff as well?" He fidgeted with his hands, scratching the back of his hand where he had written so many times, I must not tell lies.

"Ha—Potter." Professor McGonagall seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "If everything you have faced, I am sure that any parent—"

"No, I mean—of course, if they had lived everything would have been different, but..." His lips trembled. "I saw—I saw my parents, and Sirius, Remus, even Wormtail, when they were my age, and—my mother hated him, and my father deserved it, and I don't know—I don't know what to make of this."

Apparently, neither Professor McGonagall. She stared at him, mute and evidently surprise, and when a whistle came from the tea kettle, she jumped instead of bringing it with magic. Professor McGonagall took a long moment to fill their cups, then to bring a pot of biscuits to the table. She grabbed a biscuit for herself before talking again.

"How did you see them?"

"Ah—a memory. I accidentally tumbled during my Occlumency lessons—"

"Severus." She fought a grimace unsuccessfully. "I doubt he would have any good memory to share of James and Lily."

"Were there?" Harry asked in a small voice, unable to stop himself.

Her face was stern now. "I don't know if I am the right person to discuss this with you, but I was their professor and Head of their houses for seven years, we were all members of the Order, so I watched them over the years. On the day I woke up to find You-Know-Who was gone, I cried instead of celebrating because I knew whose lives it had cost." She sipped her tea. "James and Lily were very dear to me. They knowingly gave their lives for you; do not doubt their love."

Harry drank his tea; it burned his throat.

"I don't need to know about the heroes who died, Professor," he whispered.

She looked at the fireplace. "You know James spent most of his time with his friends—even here. He served too many detentions, seldom alone. There was not a rule that he wanted to abide by." There was a tiny smile of appreciation on her lips; Harry couldn't understand. "Lily was not the same, but she served a few detentions as well. She couldn't refrain herself from a fight when she believed she was right." A long sigh. "I made them Head Boy and Head Girl."

"But if—"

"I do not know what memory Professor Snape shared with you, but I know it was not pleasant, not if Severus was involved—I was his professor also, and I saw how deep their mutual dislike was. But Severus was usually alone—your father never was."

"So he was—my father was—"

"Your father was flawed. And it's because of this that I grieved him so much. I saw him growing up. From a happy little boy who knew he belonged in Gryffindor to a teenage boy who thought himself at the top of the world to a young man who denied his privilege to fight for what was right." She twirled her tea. "And I suppose it was around them that he won your mother's heart."

Harry looked down.

"If James and Lily had few good moments, it was only because their time was short. But I can assure you, while they were together—I've never seen them happier. At peace."

The picture of his parents’ wedding day. His father was waving, beaming; his mother was alight with happiness, arm in arm with her husband—

"No more detentions?" Harry asked weakly.

And then, to his surprise, Professor McGonagall chuckled lightly. Harry glanced back at her; she was staring at the fire, with that glint of nostalgia back on her face. "Oh, there were detentions."

"Why—"

Light flooded the room when her patronus returned.

"You must go," Professor McGonagall said, standing up. "I would recommend you to talk more with... your godfather."

Harry paused on his way to the door. "You would?"

"He was James' best friend and usual partner in crime... and he grew up just as fine." She watched him for a moment. "Of course, you should only talk to him when it is safe."

Harry thought about Fred and George's plan for that afternoon—breaking into Umbridge's office... "Of course," he agreed hollowly.

"Good. Go on, Potter."

She gave him a brief smile as Harry closed the door. As he walked away, set to talk to Sirius later—following McGonagall's suggestiona after all—he wondered maybe if he wasn't as bound to get detentions as his parents had been once.

#this is not a missing moment but we can all pretend #Minerva McGonagall #Harry Potter #Jily if you squint #did I write this to go around my writer's block #of course :)#hope you enjoy anon

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