#i’m nothing without projecting on side characters

[kevinsdsy]

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the trojans social media au (pt. 10): one of the reasons i made this au was to push my nabil mahmoud lore to the world AND TODAY IS THE DAY ‼️ i’ve forced dealing with your sexuality + religion lore onto nabil and since nora didt specifically confirm laila NOT being muslim i have her be his support system through shared experiences :))) including nabil living w them for a month (which is why jean actually likes him in this au) and jean being a support system through making food because i feel like cat would have told jean about how food & cooking can be such a support system for others

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader argue about their next steps

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is a combination of a few asks and takes place pre-OBX season 3. warning for some angst + arguing

Y/n ended her call with her manager Morgan with a sigh. It was a conversation she had been dreading, but she also knew was inevitable with the direction her career (and character on OBX) was moving. She had been dropping hints to Drew that her contract with OBX was ending, that she wanted to move onto some different projects, Caroline’s character arc was coming to a close…

“Hey, baby.” Drew smiled as y/n walked into their living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, his limbs propped on the ottoman and Charleston curled up at his side. Y/n smiled lightly at him, the grin not quite reaching her eyes in a way that made Drew’s brain sound off with bells and whistles.

“Um, I just got off the phone with Morgan,” y/n said quietly, Drew leaning in intently as she spoke, “and I don’t think I’m going to be renewing my contract for OBX.”

Drew’s face dropped, his eyes blinking rapidly as he stared at her in a stunned silence.

“W–what?” Drew said incredulously. Y/n sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair. Whether or not either of them cared to admit it, Outer Banks and shooting together was a big aspect of their relationship. Hell, it was how they met and how they spent months of the year practically inseparable on set.

“I– I just…” y/n swallowed harshly, “I want to try new things and I don’t want to feel tied down to—”

“‘Tied down’? Is that really how you feel?” Drew scoffed, shaking his head at her words.

“Drew, you know I don’t mean it like that.” Y/n sighed, her hand resting on Drew’s tensed shoulder.

“What do you mean, then?” Drew said. “‘Cause I’m trying to understand and it just sounds like you think the show’s a burden and—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/n said sharply. “I love the show and working with the cast— and working with you— but I just… it’s time for me to move on.”

“But I’m still stuck on this— what, this shitty, teenaged Netflix show? I can’t move on?” Drew shook his head. It was hard to not take it so personally when the show had given them so much, and for her to just leave like that… it hurt.

“This has nothing to do with how I think of you or your acting or career. You know you’re… a lot more important to the show than I am and you have a much more challenging role and—” y/n ran hand down her face with a sigh, “—this is 100% only to do with me and my career and my future.”

“But what about our future?” Drew said. “I just… don’t you think this is going to change things between us?”

“But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to change anything.” Y/n said, taking Drew’s hand. His eyes closed, Drew ran his hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“This is… this is really what you want?” Drew whispered, his thumb brushing along the back of y/n’s hand lightly.

“I think it’s the right step.” Y/n said quietly. Drew chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over his racing thoughts and questions before his gaze finally lifted to meet y/n’s. She could see a glint of sadness in his eyes, a recognition that the unique bond of the show would be changing.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t think about us when I was making this decision.” Y/n whispered, squeezing Drew’s hand lightly. Drew nodded, squeezing her hand back.

“If this is what you think is best, then I support you.” Drew said. Y/n let out a sigh of relief, cupping the side of Drew’s face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel forgotten or—” Y/n began, but Drew cut her off, kissing her forehead chastely.

“I’m sorry for freaking out, it's just… I can’t imagine the show without you and it just scared me to think about it.” Drew said lowly. Y/n frowned, to which Drew shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. Her arms snaked around his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles under her fingertips and hearing the thrum of his heart in her ear.

“We’ll figure it out, ok? I love you and we’ll figure it out.” Drew said simply. Y/n, squeeze him tighter.

“I love you. Thank you for supporting me, Drew. Really.” Y/n whispered.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

[targaryenluvs]

MAKE YOU STAY / EDDIE DIAZ

PAIRING: Dark!Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your attempt to leave Eddie won’t work, because he won’t let them, or you.

WARNINGS: Obsession, guilt trip, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content, manipulation gaslighting & entrapment.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3K Words

A/N: Happy season 7 launch!! I got inspired slightly by @megalony and her new Dark Evan series go check it out!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Life with Eddie use to be everything you could ever dream of. Whether it be slow mornings getting ready together, sharing a shower and helping Chris get ready. Or an absolute hurricane ripping through your home whilst the three of you stumble over each other to get ready after a sleep in.

No matter the time of day, you loved whatever you were doing, as long as they were by your side.

And Eddie’s protectiveness use to be just another aspect of your relationship you loved, until you opened your eyes.

It use to be small, his anger.

An incessant colleague reaching out for tips and aid in a new project, you being a senior member meaning it wasn’t uncommon for people to reach out to you. You were one of the best workers at the company, well respected and loved as well as brilliant. And always willing to help someone in need.

He use to love that about you. Until it followed you home.

Chris was currently at a friends house, leaving the two of you to an inside date night, “Now on what planet would I ever sit and watch four movies with the title ‘Die Hard’. You sure as hell can’t die that many times.” Eddie shook his head as you refilled each of your respective glasses.

“Sure you can, just ask Chimney.” You gasped before swatting Eddies arm, “Be nice! And put on our show.” The murmuring voices of your favourite characters was more than enough to lull you into his arms, content washing over you. Your ringing phone however, was ready to disturb the peace Eddie had longed for all day.

“Let me just grab this.” His hand scooped your phone up before you could, “Just get it later.” His dismissive tone made you frown, “Give me my phone, please.” You leaned over to snatch it, walking into the hallway. Eddie couldn’t help but massage his temple, did you seriously chose a phone call over peace and quiet in his arms?

He hadn’t noticed how often you picked up your phone, until it interrupted him. It happened often. When the two of you were cooking together, soft music and ambience long forgotten. Almost falling asleep, cuddling, and out of the blue the world was falling apart without you. Eddie thought he could handle it, you were needed, that wasn’t your fault, right? But what he also couldn’t handle was the secretive nature.

Why did you always walk away? Were you hiding something?

And now you were coming home later, clanging into the house at 11, or 12. Sometimes even later. “Where were you?” Eddie stood by the door as you hung your jacket, “Jesus, you scared me E.” His arms were crossed, shoulders tense as you made your way to him, a smile too wide for his liking. “Work ran late, m’ sorry.” As you walked away, his hand caught onto your wrist.

“Ow, let go.” Eddies grip loosened as you retracted your arm, soothing it, “What is your problem?” You looked up to view a sweet smile, “Nothing, just worried about you. When you didn’t call, I got so scared. This world, it’s scary Y/n, you know that, especially during these times.”

Your eyes watered involuntarily at his saddened demeanour, “Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry, I should’ve called. That’s my fault, forgive me?” Your arms came around his neck, before trailing down to his chest, playing with his name tag. “I forgive you, I can also think of a way you can make it up to me.”

His smile was mischievous, and intentions impure. “Oh? And what would that be Mr Diaz?” His hand was heavy on your back and slithering lower by the second, “I think we have an appointment with a bed tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow, so do you.”

“Cmon, for me?” His eyes were pure evil, and you were more than happy to give in, even if you were tired. Really damn tired, but he wanted you, so you should give in right? You did give him a fright. “Take me away Diaz.”

If you’d noticed the signs earlier, maybe you could’ve gotten away. His jealousy, when it did rear its head, was an ugly shade of green.

A late night, again.

Eddie had been by the door for 10, sitting for 20, pacing the kitchen and stress-eating for another 10 before he finally settled into bed. Wide awake of course. The opening of his bedroom door caused him to stir. He watched as you slowly moved around, placing your stuff away, putting your phone on charge and then changing.

He sat upright as you yelped, “Eddie! You scared me, again! Why are you sitting in the dark?” His face was drained of warmth, skin cold to the touch. “Was waiting for you, again.” You frowned at his words, “Baby, you know I’m late these days. Better for you to go to sleep than wait up.” He shook his head, burying his head into your stomach as his body relaxed. Your hands raked through his hair gently, “I think you should consider working from home.”

Your hands stopped in their tracks, working from home? The last time you worked from home was during lockdown, and you’d driven yourself half mad. “Why is that?” Eddie glanced up at you, “You’re barely home, Chris misses you, I miss you. Don’t you want to be with us?” You took a deep breath in before smiling, “Of course I do. I- I’ll see what I can do baby.”

His hands quickly dragged you into bed, “Knew you’d understand amor.” Eddie rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hands slowly making their way underneath your shirt.

“Sweetie, I’m tried.”

“I missed you.” You relented, letting him continue. It seemed to be all you were doing these days, bending backwards and over to please him, literally.

The first time you noticed his behaviour was also when you realised you needed space. Not that he’d give it to you. A new coworker, Harry, had invited not only yourself, but your friend Aleya and Jack out to lunch.

He was a nice guy, very eager to learn and never scared by a little constructive criticism. The only problem was probably his overbearing cologne, very pungent? Intense?

You’d also been driven to work that day, courtesy of your boyfriend. You were working shorter days now, completing about an hour or two of work at home now. It had taken some adjusting, after a few forgetful days and about a million texts from Carla with an impatient Chris at home waiting for you.

You spotted Eddies truck pull up as you wrapped up your conversation with the your three lunch goers, “And that’s me, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Thank you so much for lunch!” You reached out to Aleya for a side hug, the same for Jack and a normal hug for Harry. “Tell Eddie there’ll be a fire at my house later tonight, and he better bring Evan!” Jack joked as you waved him off.

Jack may or may not have a huge crush on Evan.

You hopped in, quickly chucking your purse and files into the back seat before kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Hi! How was Chris’s school?” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Fine.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his shortness, “Something wrong?” He turned onto the highway, knuckles tightly gripping the wheel, “You smell like him.”

“Like who? Harry?”

“That his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s actually his father’s, middle name Jesus. Care for some wine Eddie?” Not once, had Eddie ever been physical. But raising his voice? Oh that was fair game.

“You think you’re funny huh? Having lunch with other guys and taking the piss outta me?”

“Nothing happened baby, it was lunch. He’s new and trying to fit in and I’m being nice. There’s nothing to worry about I swear.” The silence permeated in the truck, causing the hair on your arms to raise. You hated the silent treatment wholeheartedly.

“Whatever.”

His change in demeanour could flip like a switch, you always assumed it was him putting up a front. But when Eddie showed up the next day, flowers in hand and looking his sharpest, you were forced to reevaluate. “God I wish my boyfriend was that sweet.” Your project partner whispered as you sighed, “That’s Eddie.”

Even your boss wanted you to go with him, “Take the day off sweetie, you deserve it.” And with a pat on the back and a million swooning interns drooling over Eddie, you were sent on your way.

“I got these for you Y/n/n.” Your favourite flowers, arranged perfectly and smelling divine. Your hands wrapped around the bouquet, “Thank you Eddie, they’re perfect.” His smile caused your heart to race, he looked amazing. The Eddie with you that day was incredible.

His infectious laughter, perfect smile and the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear. That, was the Eddie Diaz you knew and loved. A gentleman, who had eyes for only you. Which is why you couldn’t help but wonder, what made him change? How was it possible to go from absolutely furious and unnecessarily jealous to an angel?

You didn’t want to know, and you didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

Maybe it was the date, or the fact that you felt as if he deserved an explanation face to face. Either way, if you’d known better, you would have made it away.

“Eddie, we have to talk.” The two of you were currently sitting on the couch, favourite show playing in the background. Eddie hummed along, a slight acknowledgment to your words. “It’s, about us.” Eddie turned the volume down, your sentence piquing his interest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think, we should break up.”

And with six words, Eddies entire world came crashing down in front of him. What on earth were you talking about? “What did you say?” The smile on Eddies face was anything but sweet or reassuring, a bad attempt at keeping his composure. “You’ve been acting, odd, to say the least.” You stood from the couch as he followed in pursuit, all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like, all that we’re doing lately is either fighting or sleeping. Every time I come home, you have something to say. Whether it’s about my later nights, about who I was with or what I’m doing on the phone. It’s like I have no privacy at all. I cannot keep a single thing to myself. And if I try to? You blow up at me. I mean last week for example, I tried my hardest to not argue with you by walking away. And all you did was follow me around the house, it drove me crazy. Showing up to my workspace when I tell you I can get more done without random lunch dates. I’m a grown adult but you treat me like a child. And if I stand up for myself I’m cheating. It makes no sense at all Eddie. And I tried to make it work, but I feel like you’re controlling me. I even reduced my hours, because you asked. I moved in even when I wasn’t ready, because you asked. I need a break.” You took a deep breath after your monologue, needing a second.

Turning towards Eddie, he stared straight at you. “I had no idea you felt that way baby. I’m so sorry, I never meant to do any of it. I love you so much, I can’t help but worry. After everything we’ve been through with Shannon,” And there it was, the guilt. It was blinding, clawing its way through you. Shannon. He’d already lost someone he loved, and Chris lost his mother. No wonder he was always to protective over you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving like Shannon okay? What happened was a tragic accident, and I promise nothing like that is going to happen again Eddie.” You immediately engulfed in a hug, his head resting against yours, “I don’t want to loose you, I don’t want Chris to loose you.” Eddie muttered repeatedly as you closed your eyes.

Chris walked into the room, thirsty, tired and curious, “Is something wrong?” You immediately detached yourself from Eddie, wiping away your tears, “Nothings wrong sweetie, did you need something?” He nodded before turning around and walking to his room, “We’ll talk later yeah?” Eddie whispered into your ear before moving ahead.

Sniffles came from underneath Christopher’s blanket, “You alright buddy?” Eddie asked, patting his hair down, “Water.” You watched as Eddie swiftly made his way to the kitchen whilst you sat down, “You need anything else?” Chris’s hand slowly lowered the blanket before smiling your way, “No thanks mum.”

And as quickly as he spoke, he turned over to sleep again. Your eyes were probably protruding out of your head, shock filling your senses. “Mum?” The word sounded foreign on your lips, but apparently comfortable enough on Chris’s.

“He called you mum.” Eddies voice was low, most likely as astounded as you based on the look on his face. You got up slowly, aware of the sleeping boy. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss his forehead before making your way to Eddie. “I can’t believe it.” Eddies hand came up to wipe away the stray tears before pulling you in and kissing your forehead, “I can.”

“You’re apart of this family baby, always have been.” His words seeped in as he guided you to your bed, whilst you were stuck on autopilot. Chris viewed you as a parent to him, that’s how common you were in his life now, a constant for him to fall back on. He loved you, almost as much as you loved him. Your words weren’t forgotten just swirling in your head, how the hell could you ask for a break now? With this new huge responsibility?

Eddie knew, of course he knew. He was the one encouraging Chris to call you by your new name. Because if there’s one thing Eddie knew he needed, besides Chris?

It’s you, and he’d do anything to make you stay.

[pinksilkribbons]

COLLAGE: yan! classmate

CW/TW: non-consensual candid photos, elijah has a shrine of [name], mentions of praying to and basically viewing another human being as god, small implication of a boner, general yandere stuff ig.

You guys my last post on Elijah got quite a few likes I’m so glad y’all like him!! He’s my least developed OC so i decided to write more on him and develop his character. I’ll post some of my others soon!

Ever since he bought his new polaroid, Elijah has discovered a new side of himself. At the beginning he’d only taken pictures of you and hung them around his closet.

But eventually…he grew tired of it. Not of his darling, no! Of course not! But…it was rather difficult to sneak photos of you without getting caught. Not to mention the majority of them turned out blurry anyway.

Something needed to change.

He didn’t just want pictures of you at school. He wanted pictures of everything. When you’re angry, when you’re sad, when you’re eating. Pictures in normal clothes instead of a school uniform for fucks sake!

In the beginning school was the easiest (and only) way he could gain access to you, but now it’s proving to make his job that much harder. There’s too many risks involved.

With a dramatic sigh he shut his closet door, making sure to click the padlock into place. After hanging so many pictures of you on his closet walls he decided it would be wise to invest in a lock.

He knows it isn’t normal. Taking pictures of people without asking isn’t normal. Being so deeply obsessed with someone isn’t normal.

But not being normal doesn’t make him bad. Just…more passionate!

“Hey mama?”, He asks, trudging down the stairs.

His mother turns away from her phone with a quick glance his way. Her head tilts up as if to silently ask him what he needs.

“You aren’t using these magazines anymore, are you?”

A small stack of magazines with a bunch of ‘trendy fashion’ labels catches his eye. On the front cover a young lady with blonde hair is posed in a field of flowers. The lady, however, isn’t what he’s interested in.

She laughs playfully and watches Elijah pick up the stack. “Well, not exactly. But why do you need them? I’ve never known you to be interested in fashion.”

Elijah feels a rush of red to his cheeks. A part of him feel dirty. Perverted, even. It’s clear his mother is implying something dirty, and while she isn’t even wrong, he’s probably planning something much worse than whatever she’s imagining right now.

It takes a few good seconds for his mind to come up with a plausible excuse. “W-well, I’m not interested in fashion! I just need some material for this project in art class.”

Luckily his mom doesn’t question him further. She definitely rolled her eyes at him though, clearly not believing his story.

As soon as he makes it back to his room Elijah is quick on his feet. He rushes over to his closet so quickly he almost falls over. A pulse of excitement gushes through his body as he begins to unlock his closet door.

The password to which is his darlings birthday, of course!

Upon opening the door, one wouldn’t suspect much of anything. Clothes, shoes, some random boxes, but nothing out of the ordinary. The real magic is in the far right corner, at the very bottom of the wall.

So far his collection is pretty small. The few photos he does have are all taped beside one another, carefully placed to ensure nothing is crooked or overlaps with the other. This small corner is Elijah’s entire life.

He lives and breathes [Name]. In fact, every morning, without fail, he finds himself in this exact position; sitting on his knees, admiring his darling. He bows his head and prays to your existence.

The amount of sheer joy your being grants him should never be taken lightly. Elijah is a good boy. He’s thankful. And He proves it every single morning.

“I feel kinda bad, cutting up her picture like this”, he mumbled to himself. His hands carefully maneuvered the scissors, making sure to save as much of his darlings face as possible.

Believe it or not it came out pretty good! Next he needed to cut the cover from his mom’s fashion magazine, which proved to be the real challenge.

The blonde lady on the cover was dressed in a blue flowy sundress. From the moment he saw it Elijah knew that dress was meant to be his darlings. The chances of him getting a real photo of you in this dress were zero, but he’d like to think he’s quite creative!

To finalize his creation he glued [Name]’s head onto the models face, successfully dressing her in the beautiful gown. Just imagining her in such an outfit had his heart racing and pants tightening.

It made him feel proud knowing he found a way to grow his collection while also reducing the risk of getting caught. Next time he visited the library, Elijah would be sure to pick up a few books on collaging.

You truly did bring out a new side of him. Who knew he was so artistic?

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget. 

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Strap in if you dare, I’m going to talk about Riko.

Yes, he is a Bad Person. Nothing I’m about to say counters that. However… evil isn’t always so obvious as to dress in black and torture everyone you love. Evil is insidious and nuanced - it can creep in when you aren’t expecting it and have no defences. We’ve been given this incredibly complex and interesting example of it, and we’ve been given it for a reason. Riko is a character worth trying to understand.

Could Riko ever have been saved, and if so what would it have taken? What if he’d been able to follow the Fox path to redemption instead of the Ravens to perdition?

Except both Foxes AND Ravens were traumatised… the thing that ruined Riko was power. Lincoln said it: “nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” Who was Riko without power? It’s hard to see.

So I’m fascinated by a different question - how did Riko see Riko?

We know how the Foxes saw him: a low-functioning sociopath with zero coping skills and the personality of a cat trapped in a wall cavity. Presumably that’s not how he saw himself. What kind of headcanon did he construct for himself, what was his own personal mythology?

We know he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted to be number one. We know how badly he dealt with those desires being thwarted.

I know how it feels to be an abandoned child. You feel like the outer edges of a person, with this gaping hole in the centre. It’s not just that you lost a loved one, it’s - how can I say it - it’s like the clasp that lets you hold on to people has been torn out too. Everyone will leave now, and you know it.

(I didn’t cope by turning my bedroom into Abu Ghraib, though.)

It’s the worst of both worlds. His father is far enough away to cause that gaping wound, yet not sufficiently gone for it to ever close over and heal.

But… despite his impossible situation, Riko wasn’t withdrawing into himself. Resentment ate away at him and he liked doing side-projects of revenge, but it was hope driving him on. I see Riko as someone with a very hot flame in them, someone determined to succeed (like Neil). He was driven, even if the goal he chased so eagerly was an illusion. I think he saw his situation as a challenge, an opportunity to prove himself and eventually take his rightful place at his father’s side (surely that’s what Kengo really meant, surely this was a test, a test he can pass if he just wins one more time...)

Imagine something like… the second son of a Roman emperor, sent to some far-off outpost to get him out of the way subdue rebel tribes. A chance to make a name for himself, an opportunity to create an elite unit where violence and skill are everything, where winning is everything. A challenge he accepts with savage excitement.

And the world views them with the kind of awe once reserved for ancient Sparta. Unsurpassed warriors, impossibly focussed. Yes, they endure conditions no one else could even consider but they always win, and everyone loves winners. They are the legends of legends. Surely his father will see.

Kevin was his Lancelot, his shining sword, his right hand. Kevin added to Riko’s status, assured him he must be a hero if he had such a splendid champion at his side.

But Kevin is beautiful, so perhaps Riko’s feelings were more complicated than that, perhaps they were feelings he couldn’t admit he had. He could still work those feelings into the overall picture though… it’s all part of Kevin being his beloved champion.

Until the champion started edging him out of his own story and had to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice, but losing Kevin struck a huge blow to the mythology Riko built up about himself. He could no longer look in the mirror, side by side, and see Kevin’s glory (and, yes, Kevin’s dad) reflected back as though it belonged to him too.

Despite this Riko finds a way to keep winning, even without his champion. Surely that is even more impressive? Can his father see that?

Still no response. In the story Riko constructs for himself his father does no wrong, so this towering rage he feels has to crash down on someone else. He tells himself he is punishing his troops for daring to be unworthy.

Then there is Jean, someone from a caste so low as to be unclean, even subnormal, someone it would hurt Riko’s prestige to treat with any kind of respect. But Jean is also beautiful, and those feelings can’t be worked into the myth. Their outlet is the darkness behind closed doors, along with all the other feelings that don’t fit the story of the hero.

Harming his people, his intimate possessions, was Riko’s coping mechanism for rejection and humiliation the way self-harm in many forms is to many others. (Are you hearing me if I say hurting yourself is hurting your own Perfect Court, and there is collateral damage even if you think it’s just you, because people love you and suffer because of it? Are you hearing me if I say stop being Riko to yourself?)

And maybe his enjoyment of that cruelty was, deep down, a form of denial that the cruelty arose from anguish. ‘No I’m not upset, I’m not a loser, I’m in control, I’m doing this because I like it…’ Maybe even to the point where rendition becomes sexual.

But it’s starting to unravel. He’s lost his only friend and can no longer unleash his mounting frustrations on Jean the way he wants to; he’s running out of pieces for his board.

Then he finds the fugitive his family were chasing for so long. This is his big chance. He’ll have a brand new champion for his stable or a valuable offering to please his father, he wins either way.

He captures this feral child who tells him there is no empty throne waiting by the side of the emperor, Kengo never mentions his son’s name, Riko is nothing more than a joke in that far-off capital. So much scorn in those words that the carefully constructed mythology withers before it.

First the would-be rook took the queen, then the wild-card knight escapes again, and now the whipping boy / concubine / bishop is taken by a girl with a cross around her neck. The king has lost all his men… because that’s your REAL story, isn’t it: everyone leaves you.

And then… Kengo dies.

Yes, Riko is a Bad Person. No, I do not like him. But Nora gave us two boys who met their brother for the first time, two boys who cried out their brother’s name only to see their hopes shattered. And in that moment they were one, so I cannot dismiss this monstrous, horrible abomination no matter how hard I try.

I can however dismiss anyone who says Nora is not a goddess of writing.

[starrysnowdrop]

Heyo! So I happened to see your recent ask response regarding Zenos randomly, and, honestly, I'm kind of curious on what people miss about his character! I'm not a personal big fan of him(ngl he kind of creeped me out with his, projecting himself on the wol it felt like? Note I say that as a WHM main who plays as truly heroic WoL(s) most of the time admittedly, so most of his stuff made me go no? alot XD I don't mind people who do like him tho! They're cool!), but I'm interested in understanding him better if possible, cause I know I miss things that others don't and I don't think I've seen anyone explain his intricacies without being somewhat rude about it, but you explained what you did without coming off as that. So I'm kind of curious on that essay you almost wrote if you'd be alright writing it XD (Sorry for being on anon, I am, very shy qwq)

In case you’re not familiar with what this anon is asking about, this is in response to my answer to this ask HERE. Feel free to go read that one and come back!

So, I first want to say thank you for being brave enough to reach out to me about this, even on anon!! I’m really glad that you didn’t find my comments to be rude, as that is the very last thing that I would want! If anyone did find me too abrasive in my previous post above, then I wholeheartedly apologize for that. I would never want anyone to be afraid to reach out to me because I came off as rude at some point, so I appreciate you letting me know that you didn’t think I was. 💖

Alright, now let’s get to the topic at hand: Zenos, and why I truly think that he is the most misunderstood character in FFXIV.

Zenos: The Most Misunderstood Character in FFXIV

((I wrote way too much, so it’s under the cut.))

Alright, so let’s start with what I have seen as the popular take on Zenos that I see as wrong: A lot of players see Zenos as a one dimensional character that has no depth, and doesn’t have a character arc in which he grows as a character. They see him as the annoying antagonist who has a battle boner for the WoL and that’s it. They only see his bloodlust and nothing else. They don’t think there is anything else to him, and that’s where I must strongly disagree.

So, how is he not a one dimensional character? Well, that’s because he really is a complex character, but you need to be paying close attention to what Zenos is actually saying and what his actions are throughout the story.

One can piece together Zenos’ complexity purely from watching the cutscenes, but just in case anyone is curious about going into more depth on his backstory, then I highly recommend that you go read his side story from the Chronicles of Light book entitled “The Hunt Begins”. It shows how Zenos was raised, and it reinforces why he thinks the way that he does.

Without going into his backstory too much, for brevity's sake, Zenos is actually a prodigy, someone who was born with not only incredible strength, but also incredible intelligence, and you know what happens when gifted kids don't get enough of a challenge? Yup, they get easily bored. So keep that in mind as we move along. Now, mix that boredom with a good dose of Anhedonia, or the inability to experience pleasure or joy. Now we aren't sure if he was born with Anhedonia, or if he acquired it through some mental health condition, such as PTSD, depression, etc. I'm no psychologist whatsoever, so I'm not here to diagnose Zenos with any particular disorder, but it is clear that he suffers from the lack of feeling joy or pleasure in his life.

This is actually what characterizes Zenos the most when we first are introduced to him in 4.0; he is suffering from Anhedonia AND Ennui, which according to Webster's Dictionary, is not just a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction, but its a profound sense of boredom that arises from feeling jaded with one's life.

Zenos is suffering from a lack of joy and pleasure in his life, seeing the world as meaningless and dull, and he has found only one sole pleasure in all of it: The Hunt*. But what he means by The Hunt, is that he wants to fight the most challenging foes, challenging enough that he must put his all into the battle and be pushed to the brink of death. Only this kind of challenging battle will give him any sense of joy at all. For him at this point, there has been nothing else which has brought him joy, so he seeks out this sole pleasure.

And THAT is what Zenos' motivation is. He is not mindless in his pursuit of battle. His bloodlust stems from the desire to feel some kind of happiness at all, and unlike what some might think, not any foe will do. Zenos does not fight mindlessly against anyone at any time. That is not true. If an enemy is no threat to him, unless they purposely get in his way, he will not fight them.

This is true from the first time you see Zenos on the battlefield. At Rhalgr's Reach, Zenos sought out only the strongest fighters there, and two of them (Lyse and Y'shtola) got in his way first, and he defeated them easily. When he fights the WoL, the one who he has heard so much about, and definitely the strongest opponent among them, he becomes curious and hopes that we will give him what he wants. But in that first battle with him, he swats the WoL away like a fly, and they pose no challenge to him at all, to which he calls them "Pathetic", and then he immediately leaves, ultimately disappointed.

Note that Zenos had every opportunity to kill Lyse, Y’shtola, and the WoL if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He leaves them alone after he defeats them. That’s not the sign of someone who is so sadistic that he’s only out for blood. The fact of the matter here is that Zenos is trying to feel something from battle, something that he has never experienced before: pure joy.

Zenos doesn’t experience this joy until he fights the WoL again several times; first he gets just a hint of it, a tiny spark, when the WoL breaks a piece of his helmet off, and he feels it even more later on when Zenos fights the WoL in the Ala Mhigan throne room. This is when Zenos goes into his monologue before he releases and takes over Shinryu, and note that the joy and pleasure he is describing seems to have a sexual tone to it, which I promise I have a point to make about that in a bit.

After the battle with Zenos as Shinryu, he finally feels the joy that he has never felt in his entire life, and because he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel anything like it ever again, Zenos takes his own life, happy to have played a bit part in the story of his “first friend”.

But as we know, Zenos doesn’t stay dead. He finds himself alive once more, and he has a singular goal: to feel that pure bliss, that overwhelming joy that he felt when he fought the WoL in the Royal Menagerie in Ala Mhigo. From ShB through EW, Zenos’ goal doesn’t change, but he does change in his understanding of what it means to have a “friend” and how he can feel happiness.

During EW, Zenos has several scenes where his understanding of his feelings seems to grow, and though that sexual tone to his descriptions of what he’s feeling towards his battle with the WoL is still there, I would argue that over time, it seems to have more and more of a romantic tone to it as well. And with this shift in his tone when describing his feelings, he also seems to question his understanding of it all.

Zenos’ character growth is the whole point of two very important scenes: the Scions and Jullus encountering Zenos in Garlemald while fighting the blasphemies, and later when Zenos goes to the Royal Menagerie alone. The first of these scenes reinforces the themes of EW with Zenos’ philosophy of life, but it is also the first time that someone says something that makes Zenos question his beliefs.

Alisaie’s words to Zenos hit him hard, and Zenos goes back to the Royal Menagerie, to the scene of where he had his one transcendent moment, his one time in his life when he felt joy, pleasure, and happiness. He realizes in this moment that, whatever you believe Zenos’ true feelings are for the WoL, which I personally argue that it is love that he feels for them, but regardless, Zenos cannot continue to be selfish and only think about his own wants and desires. He must act selflessly, and assist in the WoL’s battle against the Endsinger and stop the Final Days, in order for the WoL to give him what he wants in return. He finally realizes that it’s this give and take, this reciprocation between people, is the key to building bonds with others… Zenos finally learns what it is to be a “friend” to someone. After this moment, Zenos goes to Sharlayan to find a way to help out the WoL in their mission to save the star, and to finally be a friend to them.

And you know what that is? That’s growth. That’s having a character arc. That’s Zenos in all of his complexity. Which I still say that it’s perfectly fine to not like his character, but I only wish that people would not like him with a clear understanding of what he really is, and not what others think he is.

Alright, I think I have blabbed on long enough, but I hope that I have answered your question anon! If you need me to clarify anything further, please don’t hesitate to ask me! Thank you so much for your ask anon, and thank you to all who have read this! 💖

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: still sick but still craving dick.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 

You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 

No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 

He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 

You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 

“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 

He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 

“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 

“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 

“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 

His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 

“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 

Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 

He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 

You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 

“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 

You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 

You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 

You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  

You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 

“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 

“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 

A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 

“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 

You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 

You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 

“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 

“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 

“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 

“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 

“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 

“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 

You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 

He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 

“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 

You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 

🧸

You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 

As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 

You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 

“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 

“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 

“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 

“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 

“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 

“No, um, I... just finished.” 

You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 

“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 

“Sure...” you murmur. 

He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 

Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 

You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 

Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 

“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 

“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 

“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 

“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 

“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 

Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 

You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 

He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 

You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 

You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 

You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 

You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 

You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 

“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 

“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 

“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 

“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 

You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 

“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 

“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 

“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 

You press your lips together, “mhm.” 

You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 

You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 

He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 

“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 

The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 

“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 

He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 

“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 

You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 

“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 

“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 

“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 

Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 

He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 

“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 

His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 

You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[sehunniepotwrites]

WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you. 

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you.  But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be. 

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t. 

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you. 

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice. 

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend. 

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup. 

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive. 

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt. 

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant  @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty  @sokkigarden @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @ppangjae @luvenshiti @ferxanda @jenosuh​ @mxrcayong-main @lebrookestore​ @the-universe-in-you-jjh @planetkiimchi @hannie-dul-set @kdyism @lovesuhng

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[okminer07]

Nuna Pt 1

This is a sort of fanfic and gift for @muppenthings. I absolutely love her artwork and the characters she has created, and I really wanted to try and write a story including one of her characters and one of my own creations, an axolotl mer. I hope to write more even though I've created way too many projects for myself at once. Hope you enjoy!

Like so many times before, she found herself curled up at the bottom of a tank. This one was much more cramped than any she had been in before. Back at the aquarium, her tank had been large enough for her to swim around in, though every which way there would be prying eyes watching her every action. At first, it had been amusing to stare back at the wide-eyed humans, even doing things to elicit a reaction. But as the years passed, even that grew dull. The aquarium hadn’t been the worst, that’s for sure. At least there she wasn’t alone, though the company wasn’t the most pleasant, it was company.  

It felt stupid, but she almost wished she was back there now as the walls of this new tank closed in around her, only just big enough for her and only her: no sand, no rocks, no nothing, just cold glass.   

She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there when a noise other than her shuddering breaths hit her. Glancing up, she saw the warehouse garage door open and two humans walking in. They headed directly for her. She glared at them, feathery gills curling forward.  

Without giving her much more than a glance, the two men grabbed either side of the tank and hoisted it up. Still glaring, she moved around as much as she could, just wanting to make their job harder. They didn’t seem to care though and were soon lowering her back down onto a cart. One of them lingered and teasingly tapped on the glass before signaling to his partner to start pushing.   

The wheels beneath her rumbled and screeched as they began to move. They headed towards the open garage door. She squinted as sunlight hit her as soon as they had wheeled out of there. Once her eyes were adjusted, she peered through the glass. Wherever she was, it was by the ocean. Several boats were lined up along a pier that they were wheeling her across now. They took a sharp turn and began down a portion of a dock that cut right through the lines and lines of boats.   

As they passed them, Nuna averted her gaze. So many of those horrible things in one place couldn’t mean anything good.  

“Which way was the enclosure for this one?”  

The other man looked incredulously at the other, “How the hell should I know? I thought you knew which way it was so I was just following you.”  

“Well, I was waiting for you to tell me I was going in the wrong direction. I’m guessing they’ve either made a new place for her somewhere in the bay.”  

“But she’s freshwater! Shouldn’t she be in-”  

“The other one's freshwater too, and he seems to be doing just fine. Now come on.”  

They continued down the docks, passing boat after boat. Making a sharp left, the tank was heaved up a wooden incline. The two men were both grumbling once they had reached the top and didn’t make it very far before one of them began to complain again.   

“How much further do we have to push this thing?”  

“I uh…” the taller of the two looked around, “I don’t know.”  

His partner scoffed, “You don’t know? Well then why am I even listening to you?”  

The other suddenly shoved himself away from the cart, “Because I’m the one actually trying to figure this out here!”  

“Yeah well, you haven't figured out anything!”  

“Well if you’re so wise, why don’t you-”  

As they continued to argue, Nuna simply tuned them out and instead peered through the glass at her new surroundings. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she peered over the edge of the concrete pier and saw water below. It looked to be salty in nature but that didn’t matter, it was open water!   

She peered over her shoulder as a plan began to form in her mind. The two men were still fighting, their argument only getting more heated by the minute. Her gills uncurled and twitched with anticipation as she looked back down at the water. One chance, she had one chance at this.   

As much as she could in the limited space, she situated herself as far from the side of the tank facing the ledge. She breathed, large blue eyes staring down the glass wall. With as much force as she would muster from both her hands and tail, she threw herself forward.  

The tank lurched forward as she slammed into the glass. Grimacing as dull pain blossomed throughout her body, she looked back over her shoulder. The two hadn’t noticed a thing. So relieved she could cry, she did it again, and again, and again. The tank inched its way further and further off the cart with each blow.  

Finally, after slamming herself again and again against the glass, the tank’s edge teetered on the cart until it began to fall forward. Nuna pressed herself against the glass and watched as it toppled off the cart. Her stomach dropped as her view of the sky was replaced by the approaching water.  

The tank hit the water’s surface and she was slammed back against the glass, the force of her head hitting it causing it to crack. She groaned, clutching her head as it throbbed painfully. 

As the tank began to sink, she heard yelling from above her and looked up to see the faces of both the men staring down at her. They both looked dumbfounded. Nuna smirked up at them as the entirety of the tank slipped beneath the surface.   

The open water surrounding her was an inviting shade of blue, seeming to stretch on forever. It had been so long, so long since she had been able to stare off into the depths and not be met with a child or researcher's face staring back at her. The ability to swim endlessly through it was just within her reach. All that stood between her now was oh-so-familiar glass.   

Her eyes fell upon the crack her head had made. Raising both her fists, she began to pound against the glass. Low cries of desperation slipped out of her as the crack began to grow and she began to hammer against the surface more feverishly. Come on, please, please!   

The glass gave way and her fist soared right through it. Her fingertips tingled painfully at the unfamiliar salt water, it seeped under her nails and stung. She gritted her teeth and continued to shatter the glass. The whole panel suddenly gave way and she instantly swam out.  

Her skin stung all over the moment she swam out into the water. She let out a pained cry, screwing her eyes shut. It was most painful on her belly, which was decorated with scales and offered many crevices for that burning salt to burrow into. She curled into a ball, rubbing herself all over, trying to soothe the pain.  

Slowly, it began to dissipate. The stinging began to dull. Nuna cracked her eyes open, clutching herself as she gasped for breath. I’m ok. I’m ok. She slowly unfurled her tail and gills. 

I-Im, I’m free. She thought, letting out a pained laugh. Her face split into a smile and she continued to laugh as she swam loops. I’m out, never gonna have to see a human again! Never gonna have to deal with tanks! Never-   

She froze as soon as she felt it, sensed it. Her gills twitched as they felt the shift in the water. Something moving. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she gazed into the blue abyss. Nothing. She squinted, still nothing.  

Her tail flicked nervously as she continued to sense… something. Maybe someone? Her eyes brightened. What if it was another mer? Someone… someone who could help her? Nuna began to wrack her brains, how did you say hello again in mermish? Oh gods, she had practically forgotten her own language.  

“Hello?” she called out in human, the only language she had.   

No response. 

“Hello? Is… is someone out there?”  

This time, she heard something, but it wasn’t a voice. It was a low rumble. Her tail flicked as her bones seemed to rattle. Wh-what… what was-  

Something began to emerge. Its outline was barely visible but what she could see of it was massive. What was worse was it was becoming clearer… it was getting closer.   

Nuna’s eyes widened, she spun around on the spot and began to swim in the opposite direction. Another low rumble rang out, causing her tail to swish more frantically. She looked over her shoulder and all the color drained from her face. Whatever it was had also quickened its pace, she could vaguely make out a face with two orange eyes. 

She whipped her head back around and tried to propel herself forward with her arms. Even if she had no idea what it was, there was no way anything that big could be anything else other than a threat to her existence, a predator. Her eyes began to sting as hysteria began to overtake her. It’s- it’s gonna get me! It’s gonna eat me! T-this will all have been for nothing! She shook her head, no, no! You won’t let it! You won’t!  

Suddenly, the ocean all but stopped, and in its place was a large rock wall. She came to an abrupt stop, whipping her head all over, looking for where else to go. The low rumbling of the creature was getting louder, she didn’t have much time. Seeing nowhere else to go, she dove down.  

She was quickly met with the sandy sea floor, faced with the same problem. Looking around, her eyes lit up as they landed upon a small opening in the rock face. Without a second thought, she darted through it. It opened into a small cave, just big enough for her but certainly not that… that thing!   

Heart still hammering against her ribs, Nuna swam over to the furthest corner of the cave and tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Please… Just… just go away. Just go-    

A low rumbling rattled her bones as her surroundings darkened. Her entire body was trembling like she was in frigid arctic water. The water around her seemed to shift and she could hear whatever was out there moving. She looked to the cave entrance and slapped a hand over her mouth, preventing herself from screaming.  

Where the entrance had once been, there was now an eye. A piercing orange eye nearly the same size as her entire body. It blinked as it began to survey the cave with pronounced slowness. Nuna froze, holding her breath. Her heart plummeted when it flicked over to her curled-up form. Its pupil dilated.   

The eye suddenly whisked away from the entrance and for a moment, she uselessly hoped that it had lost interest. All those hopes were crushed when the cave gave a great shudder. She cried out as two long and clawed fingers longer and thicker than her entire being, slammed through the entrance. They began to try and wiggle their way deeper in, flipping and turning every which way, all their movements directed her way. She pressed herself against the cave wall so hard it was starting to hurt and squeezed her eyes shut as the cave continued to tremble almost as much as her.  

After what felt like an eternity of panicked, quaking, darkness, it stopped. A low and short rumble caused Nuna to crack open her eyes. The thing’s fingers had withdrawn and had been replaced with that same orange eye, fixated right back onto her. It squinted and let out another rumble more like a deep whine this time.  

She remained silent as she stared right back at it, bracing herself for it to continue to try and get at her. But it didn’t. Slowly, after giving her one last look, the eye pulled away, leaving the cave entrance open.  

For a few agonizing minutes, she waited. Waited to see if it would do anything else.if it would come back. When she heard nor saw anything, she slowly left her spot against the wall. 

Tentatively, she swam over to the cave entrance and went to peek her head out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement below her. She shrieked and darted back to her place against the wall. Once again, the creature’s eye blocked off the opening and fixated upon her. A second or two later, it went away again.  

Nuna breathed, clutching at her chest as she slid back down onto the rock floor. It’s out there. Right outside, waiting. She swallowed and looked back towards the entrance. No doubt right below it, the creature was poised and ready. Her head slumped against the wall; she’d just have to wait it out. Wait until it loses interest and swims away. She bent her tail and hugged it to her chest. She’d just have to wait.

[floralcyanide]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s. 

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project. 

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words. 

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. 

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity. 

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station. 

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly. 

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

I'll always be there for you

Clay x inventor! reader

Summary: You are an inventor from Putt Putt Village. Using the golf course for building things that can aid the trolls. You were the best! Until you moved to Pop village, where you have to impress all of the trolls to make a good first impression. Then with the help of Clay’s affirmations you wind up doing just that

Words: 1009

Warnings: All of this is fluff

A/N: I admit it, I hated trying to figure out Clays character without having to watch the movie again. I have watched so many videos just trying to get it right and it's been likean earworm, tearing me apart from the inside out. That's why at some point it feels a little more headcanony than other parts. (we dont get enough of Clay honestly.) Anyway this was fun to write, I can't wait for you all to read it! Happy New year everyone!

❉❊❉

You groaned as you came out from under the machine. It’s a machine that doubles glitter. It was just to be a little in spirit of returning to troll society, but it’s turning out to be the hardest machine you’ve ever worked on.

You dust glitter off your arms and adjust your clothing. A part of you feels embarrassed to be working on a glitter machine like this. You have so many other projects and your working on this to be cool to other trolls? You’re close to giving up when-

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you! I asked around town and- What. Is. That.” Clay stopped in his tracks as he pointed to the large (but not too large) glitter-covered machine. You sigh and brush yourself off, inherently spreading more glitter.

You cover your face in embarrassment. “No, it’s nothing, just a thing I’ve been working on.” You say, not expecting Clay of all people to show up suddenly and notice your big “surprise.” Your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

Before you could protest, Clay was already inspecting the machine.

“Clay-”

“It’s a party machine!”

“Clay, don't do this.”

“Or it’s a…sun bathing machine.”

“You’re not serious please just-”

“Ooooor it’s a Glitter doubler machine that doubles one piece of glitter into hundreds more.” Clay look at you as if he was correct and you groaned in embarrassment. He walked over to you and stood next to you. “Can’t hide anything from me, you know this. What’s wrong?”

You frown, crossing your arms. “I feel like I’m doing too much to impress these new Trolls, I mean glitter machine? Someone has to have already made that.” You say as you nervously bite your nails. Clay’s arm wraps around your neck and pulls you into his shoulder.

You lean into him, grumbling your grumbles that he loves so much. Clay shrugs slightly. “Well, if you’re doing too much than…they’d want you to do more.” Clay sends you a serious look and you instantly recoil, he can’t be serious. Clay interjects your thoughts “I know it sounds crazy but have you met Viva’s sister? She’s crazy when it comes to going big or going home. She never goes home.”

You snorted at the sentiment, but looked at your invention and frowned. “But what if it explodes when showing off? That defeats the purpose! Everyone will hate me for sure.” You we’re becoming a nervous wreck the more you thought about it,

Clay’s hand went over your temples, beginning to rub gently at them to stop any sights of an inventor's headache. “Okay okay, bring it back down. There you are.” He said, nipping your chin with his thumb and index finger. You laughed, mostly because your neck was ticklish, but also because you blush hard ever time he does it.

Clay looked you in the eyes and crossed his arms. “Let’s think about disasters; after you build it huh?” He offered, you rolled your eyes and he clicked his tongue at you. “That’s my girl, now let’s get to work!”

✩✪✩✪✩

Now, you stood next to clay for your first test. When suddenly, glitter sputtered out the sides and the top. You groaned. Clay then pointed out that it's doing one thing they wanted, but not another. “Okay, we're doing something right and something wrong.” You look at the machine and feel a sense a pride in it now.

“Okay, well, obviously it's something on the sides. I have to cover those up somehow.” You'd deduce and giggle when Clay made a mock surprised face. “Alright let's do it!”

✩✪✩✪✩

You laid on the ground stomach full after Viva brought you French fries and meat circles. You were halfway to a food coma when Clay asked “This isn't just about the machine right, the change is hitting you too?” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

You just nodded. “I understand change is hard, but this? This is crazy. Moving entirely out of Putt Putt Village for this? It's enough to make your skin crawl.”

“Well just so you know your are not the only one, every other troll is in some kind of tiff about it too. I mean I had to give up my admin house.”

“You hated living in that thing.”

“Quite the contrary, it was actually delectable beyond reasoning.”

“You always do the voice when I'm right. Just admit it alright?”

“Nothing to admit.”

“I sometimes hate that I love you.”

✩✪✩✪✩

Finally, the moment had come, everything fell into place. You decided the go big or go home approach would be best. So now you had a small glitter volcano, it's small, adorable, and simple. However its just big enough to where you can't go home.

Surprise surprise, everyone adored it. Glitter trolls have already been caught bathing in it, but you only build the machines, you don't monitor them. You are in Poppy’s pod getting a mouthful about how great that glitter-cano is. Then when you came out you got more compliments! It wasn't until you and Floyd were eating lunch together that Clay even asked. “So, did everyone like the-”

“YES! They loved It! They all loved it so much that they told me they liked it and I've never felt greater!” You squealed as you looked at the pin Poppy had given you. It wasn't much, it just said “You did it!” even then you still were pretty stoked.

Clay smiled. Leaning on his hand as he looked at you. “That's awesome! I'm so proud of you.” he reached across the table to offer a high five, and you smirked and took his hand. He was confused until you pulled him to meet you in the middle to accept a kiss on the forehead.

He slapped a hand onto his forehead and you laughed softly. “Thank you for being my number one Clay.” Clay admittedly blushed, but he'd never say that he did. He waved a hand.

“It's nothing, you know I'll always be here for you.”

[writing-for-life]

Ok, I’m not going to get involved in a certain thread because I don’t want any drama and the line of argumentation leans too much to one side already (the views of the vocal majority in this fandom) for it to make much sense to contribute, but I had a few thoughts today:

In a fandom where people write AUs full of cows and merpeople and other shenanigans that have nothing to do with canon (or the actual characters, to be frank), they can’t do that for Calliope (or any other female character, for that matter)?

She doesn’t get to play in the sandbox?

We don’t have the imagination to turn her into one of the two dolls that kiss?

We have to keep her in character while everyone else can be turned into… whatever person (certainly neither the one of the comics nor the show)?

We constantly have to remember her strife and trauma and can’t invent (!, that’s what writing is about!) a different or new side to her? Or a better future? One in which she gets to be happy?

Or we can’t turn her into someone she canonically isn’t?

While all of this always, always works for Dream? Or the hairy guy?

And speaking of said guy: Do we have any reason to think Dream would treat him better than Nada? We’re automatically assuming he’d do the same thing to Calliope, but not to him? Or: Why do we assume he would do what he did to Nada to any other love interest, because canonically, there’s no evidence for that (we wrote about this on here before)? So no, that line of argument just doesn’t fly in my view.

If Calliope and Dream have chemistry and people are able to acknowledge it (which most do), that on its own is enough to ship them. The chemistry argument works with every M/M ship. Why doesn’t it work with her?

Oh, she is allowed in gen fics (and I am a fan of those btw, but that’s past the point), or as a character with very little agency, or any personal or sexual desires. Even better if she serves the ship. That’s okay of course, I forgot. Reminds me of most of the women of the Sandman—I wonder why.

I just wish people would give the honest reason without going through all the mental gymnastics of why Dreamuse is not an interesting (or even bad or problematic) ship, and the other one is the best invention since sliced bread:

They want to see/imagine two guys together.

There, I said it, it wasn’t hard. It’s really as simple as that in fandom, it’s a predictable fantasy, and it’s the same in every fandom. The Sandman isn’t any different.

M/F ships are frowned upon because they’re “heteronormative”, and yet, (mostly) women proceed to project (mostly) heteronormative relationship dynamics on two guys of which they fancy at least one and use the other to project themselves on. Sometimes, they fancy both of them and get more of what they have the hots for. Good for them, there’s nothing wrong with it. We have oodles of research by now why some women prefer M/M porn; it’s not earth-shattering, groundbreaking or “queer-positive” (it sometimes fetishises homosexuality though, but that’s a different topic). It’s been like that since at least the times of Spirk, and probably longer. It’s actually a fairly (dare I utter the word on here?) straight female sexual fantasy. The queer-positivity everyone is so enamoured with is more than, and not singularly limited to, shipping M/M—as a bisexual woman, I personally can’t identify with that line of thinking at all, but other people’s mileage might vary…

If people are into smutty/explicit fanfic , that’s just how it works: Some women project on a female body while imagining to get railed by a guy, others prefer to imagine two guys because they fancy men. Again: Nothing wrong with it, but it’s also not as deep as people often pretend it is.

Yes, I wrote about that one before as well. That’s why I can do it again—“once your reputation is ruined” and all that 🤣

It’s ok to be horny for two guys without turning it into a brain-contorting statement every time.

It’s also okay to reflect on the wider implications of completely erasing women from EVERY fandom, especially if you identify as one.

Edited on May 27 since it’s obviously necessary:

If people’s main takeaway from this post is that it’s about criticising fetishising homosexuality, they clearly have a reading comprehension problem and should read it again. “Sometimes” doesn’t mean “always”, plus it wasn’t even a main point. I even said that fancying m/m is a fairly middle-of-the-road-fantasy, and that there’s nothing wrong with it. The internalised misogyny that shows in people who think they are “saving women from men” by completely erasing them from the narrative and only centering men is a different topic, but these two things aren’t the same.

If people’s main response to this post is, “Then write your own stuff,” they also have a reading comprehension problem and did not get at all what this is about. It’s also the slightly old getting standard response to anything that invites critical thinking, but that one isn’t all that surprising anymore. The assumption people aren’t writing their own stuff is also a bit… silly? But I imagine that misconception is down to the fact that those people never check any tags beyond one or two, and certainly never any that involve female characters. [And to say it quite frankly: That some people wrote verbatim, “If you want Dream and Calliope to fuck so badly, write it yourself,” just shows me that they’re incapable of viewing anything but through a sex/smut lens. Good for you, kids, your world sounds so exciting *slow clap*. But maybe don’t project your thirst on everyone else.]

Some people in the OP this was about even made good points, and I didn’t criticise any of those because they are true.

This post is about the double standards people apply when they say why one ship (m/m) is more successful than the other (m/f):

Trauma? Never a problem when it’s Dream.

Relationship that somehow “shouldn’t work”? Never a problem in tropes like enemies to lovers and many others that are totally used for thee ship. Or with two people (read: men) they really want to see together.

Bending a character beyond recognition or giving them a totally different backstory, because that would solve the “relationship has run its course”-issue? Never a problem with the two guys who can be anything from a cow to a mafia boss. But the women? Nope, we have to remember their trauma and strife, keep them exactly as in the source material and protect their sacredness by completely ignoring them.

Still don’t get that this is not about a ship per se but the erasure of all women from stories bar being cheerleaders for thee m/m ship in some way? Okay, then that one’s really beyond anything I can explain, although I think some people just like to consciously misrepresent stuff or really don’t do anything but skim-read. That’s not on me I guess…

[lillified]

Can I ask what inspos you've had when making your transformers stuff? You mentioned is rather on the space horror esc side of things and Im curious what media you took inspiration from when creating your stuff !

good question! it’s honestly a big hodgepodge of stuff—I’ve been pretty immersed in the weird and kind of nonsensical lore of transformers since I was a kid, and even though my tastes have kind of graduated to other places (if im being real I haven’t REALLY enjoyed a piece of new TF media in a long time, though I really think that’s mostly just me leaving the target audience) I still find the concept engaging! and honestly at this point it’s like. a compulsive obsession lol, a fixation if you will

as far as other inspirations—on the obvious side there’s stuff like evangelion and alien, but a lot of the techno/organic biology workdbuilding is inspired by Ghost in the Shell! the movies + show have some of my favorite cyborg/mech worldbuilding, and also are just some of my favorite things in general. oh, there’s also the movie Possessor, which has a super cool and mindfuck-y take on memory and digital identity!

the space element has evolved over the years, with some stuff like Magnetic Rose and Event Horizon heavily influencing the atmosphere and tech, but I think the thing that inspired me to focus on space itself as an element of horror was the movie High Life. I wouldn’t put it on my top 20 films or anything but without any monsters or physical threats that movie will give you a fear of space like nothing else. as this project develops you’ll (hopefully) see what I mean about space as a bit of a character, lol

anyway, there’s so many other things I could cite here but those are the basics! I promise it won’t be as dense and complicated as any of those things (I don’t think I’m good enough of a writer to come even close lol) but those are some of my big creative interests :)