#idk like i said ill probably flesh it more out later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kwillow · 2 years ago

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Hi if you got my last message I'm sorry for the repeat feel free to delete if you didn't because Tumblr decided to go "no <3" at the last second oh boy howdy it's me again devoted anon unmasked, if this ask feels shorter tireder I'm sorry it is tumblr is an evil evil thing, on to my girl she is called Zephyr a lengthened alternate to her canon name that she probably picked out herself probably from a book as I imagine Ambroy boasts a huge library. Onto the daughter. (also apparently Zephyr means gentle breeze so obviously mental image of her gently blowing on Ambroys ear to make it flick to wind him up)

Obviously from sketch to digital I missed things out because I didn't have the effort lmao, her scars from blood letting are probably hidden under her scales so if she's shedding there or pulls them back it will reveal the scars like the dragon heart dragons having those scars under their chest scales from taking out their hearts. She originally was gonna have major implied tail related trauma implying it was cut off and regrew yes I was gon imply it was cut off to be served but I thought that was too far but since her tail is nubby it likely did get injured at some point. Also I like to imagine her hair looks thick and wild and untamed? But also kind of flawless too. It's got a weirdly scaley vibe to it and the hair is probably a bit coarse, not like unpleasantly so just clearly rougher wilder almost. She usually manages her own hair via cleaning drying brushing it ect but secretly she does adore it if a staff member offers to dry her hair or brush it or just to play with it, she's touch starved and pretty woman want to touch her?? Play with her hair?? For real?? Makes her soft. She's very compliant to so if staff are needed to at least neaten up her hair they know she'll sit on the floor where they can easily reach to do her hair and sit good and still for them. The two tone color is cause I think it looks hella cool tbh it added dynamic to her and because she probably bled in her hair plenty as her horns grew in and idk mythos bled into her hair permanently dying it (though its more likely just weird power stuff like how Ambroy hair is golden hers went from brown to pink silver). Also her claws and horns are probably only metal coated and not full metal. Also idk if beans I just like the implied feral prowling stalking predator vibes of it she's an ambush predator ready to take down unsuspecting prey and also viciously hunt House intruders lmao there is mental image of her chasing some guy who broke in maybe scaring a maid and she came running hearing the maid scream absolutely hunting this guy like a wild beast thinking he was attacking the maid and for breaking in. Zephyr can have feral as a treat, as I said she's always a bit off and otherworldly a bit too feral despite the fact they should be civil, could revert to animal revert to quadraped lmao. Zephyr is always like 2 steps away from just turning into a beast and disappearing into the woods or in this case I guess kidnapping Ambroy her treasure now lmao.

Outfit time! And for me to be a liar lmao

She's a comfortable girl, definitely would prefer to dress like she just rolled out of bed. I think she'd have a very casual relationship with clothes, at first I imagine she wore very loose things growing up easy to slide up to access flesh for cutting or very tight constricting covering everything clothes when needing to hide her abuse and likely tight fashionable clothes when later living with Ambroy and probably to some extent dressed up by him for his liking and viewing to the point that when she's older she kinda goes eh fuck it ill wear what I'm comfy in not whats suitable for other people. This also somehow developed into casualness in nudity I suppose exposed stomach falling down loose trousers ect, I also hc she has a dressing gown she'll put on and wear with nothing else only vaguely tied to just about hide everything. I think at this point she just doesn't care XD though she won't obviously do this in public but cover of Ambroys home she can be lax but will respectfully cover up to not fluster the staff they don't need to see a tit ya know she respects them. She's sure Ambroy wouldn't mind seeing a tit, but like she'll jokingly pull her dressing gown over herself pretending to conceal and hide herself from him like no you cannot witness because he probably huffs at her for being so selfish to not share a tit. But just any lazy outfit you can think of she'd wear or own, she likely does have genuine outside activity clothes which are probably actually decent walking clothes I can see her enjoying long walks out climbing treks ect cause she's active or casual outside clothes for tea and biscuits and cakes when the weather is nice but nothing fancy like Ambroy not anymore too much effort. Her fashion is likely probably more similar to the I suppose common folk than the rich cause like common folk know how to enjoy comfort rich people just dress wildly and honestly dressing in common clothes is weirdly nostalgic not exactly comforting but feels right.

Now for my lies and deceit lmao, so I know I said no dress but also. What if one dress one time XD I thought itd be fun to have her in at least one dress outfit. She's probably wearing a corset brasier combo to thin her waist and adjust her chest hence her looking different. Ambroy probably asked so that people don't realise she's showing her age too, though Zephyr definitely asked the staff to be gentle with the corset she's not used to it so they couldn't tighten it as much as Ambroy would hope. This event is likely the reason she doesn't wear dresses anymore. She probably just, had a bit of a identity crisis as the knowledge of, these people are so much different to me, set in. She's not, from wealth or royalty or really even anything important sure shes apparently half something special but she was born into nothing and treated worse for it until she met Ambroy, she realises that she stands over everyone there how delicate and beautiful the woman are and how confident and assured the men are she's, not either she's much larger and yes she knows it's muscle she's strong could probably lift more than some of the gentleman here but compared to these pretty woman she feels so, wrong and out of place and she's not confident as much as she pretends she doesn't dare enter the dance floor her feet are too big her claws too dangerous her tail too in the way. Essentially has a horrible comparison to everyone else moment anxiety and stress rising because oh god she's so different just look she's probably got problems especially because she relates more with the lower class being born into that she can take care of herself while the higher class need to be served she knows she sticks out compared to everyone so she'd leave to smoke outside. Quite literally when overly anxious she produces smoke cause she can breathe fire as a treat and she probably just has a bit of an anxiety attack outside honestly everything was probably just over stimulating for her especially if this is the first event she's been to since fully developing into divine maturity she's only just finding herself her new 'real' self and her senses are likely overwhelmed with the music chatting dancing singing perfumes sparkling jewellery and decorations and heat of the room and just she's not been raised in this like Ambroy the odd event but not really made for it and would likely not go to anymore. She'd just tell Ambroy it's because she makes the room look cluttered and she shouldn't distract from his divine radiance and beauty like that.

Also Zephyr is probably about 7ft tall or something, as much as I want to make her stupidly tall I'm limiting myself but like you're free to play around with her height and design tweaking it for if its easier in art or for a certain aesthetic ect going full size dif or casual loom. I think canon human Zephyr is about 6ft close to Ambroy height naturally as she's my big strong muscular monster girl so obviously anthro dragon form needs to be bigger than him XD I like me height dif

Anywhos hope you and Ambroy will like and enjoy her design lmao and thank you for enjoying my silly character rambles I just adore your silly lil unicorn so so much he pleases the brain. I hope you have fun with your big project I'm very excited to see it! And I hope work isn't too hard on you either! Baiii

So glad to see Zephyr in the flesh! (So to speak)

Her design is very cute, I love the silver scales and red eyes. All the better that she's 7 ft too - we love a big girl in this house!

I could definitely see Ambroys using her as a fashion doll for a while until she makes me clothing preferences known. He's unfortunately prone to viewing other people as accessories to complement his own outfits.

I like the details you included about her being uncomfortable in the high society company Ambroys tends to keep. Given her background, it makes a lot of sense (and considering the snakes Ambroys tends to associate with - and is - she's probably right to feel that way). I think he'd be torn on her bowing out of his dances and social events - on the one hand, he'd probably buy the excuse that she'd distract from his glory, and he does like being the most eye-catching thing in the room, but he does like to have an entourage so that people think he has friends. Ultimately, though, he wouldn't force her to go... though she may be forced to hear him complaining/gossiping about the proceedings afterward.

Thanks so much for sharing and my apologies again for not being more quick on the message-answering draw - I do really appreciate having your OC shared with me, despite my bumbling tardiness!

#asks #text #sorry for not responding to your christmas message yet (even though it's been months waaah) I wanted to doodle something for it but #I've not had time! soon though I hope!

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sunakore · 4 days ago

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Bit of info for my main OCs :)

helloo. i might post a drabble later idk. but here is some info on my ocs! im working on worldbuilding, but its obviously not even close to being fleshed out yet. siiiiighs

(expect there to be either changes or updates on my characters. ill probably make a separate post on what they look like but there'll be no art) (i wish i had the motivation to art 💔)

Main OCs:

Nalani [he/they], 21

Icarus [he/him], 19

Santez [he/him], 19

Marelle [she/zir], 22

Aeloa [she/her], 19

Rene [they/he], 20

They're self-appointed demon hunters! Well...I don't know what they really hunt yet. just work with me here lmao. demons in this world are just any big bad creatures, and I'll probably find a name for them. They also do hunt titans, which also will eventually have a name...but titans are much more ancient and intelligent. and big. theyre big boys.

because i haven't touched on their abilities (which is very not obvious from my writing) in ANY of my drabbles...since ive been focused on character interactions and all, here they are. shoving them in your amazing face.

-Nalani can absorb and store cold temperatures in his blood, and then channel it back out in the form of ice. So, they can basically manipulate ice, even fucking bend it (awesome!!) in whatever shape he wants. He could remake the sphinx of giza on a good day. Because of his ability he can also withstand freezing temperatures like a boss. He can't store too much cold in his body, though, cause it can only tolerate so much.

-Icarus...has no ability. Deadass. No sudden awakening or aha! i secretly have an ability and you never knew it! No. None of that. i mean hes cool i guess...

-Santez has like...some kinetic absorption thing. he can absorb impact directed towards him and bounce it back. The more he uses it without break, the more weakened his ability will become. So rest = good, which is something he never does so yay.

-Marelle can warp the perception of someone, but she has to actually be aware of the knowledge ze's trying to warp, and has to emotionally resonate with how the person feels about said knowledge. She doesn't have high emotional intelligence, so. Yeah. If she overuses zir ability then she'll become emotionally drained.

-Aeloa can connect with creatures and influence them. She also can with demons, but that depends on their mental strength. Her ability usually only works on weak demons. Animals are naturally drawn to her because she's a disney princess in her own right. She can understand what animals she's connected with are feeling and saying.

-Rene is a shapeshifter, but not quite!!! They can only add on and modify characteristics and not change into a whole new form. He can't remove them, so if they give themself a bird leg then aaah you're stuck like that for a few hours buddy :D. Giving themself too many characteristics at once will temporarily destabilize his ability. So call it a mini shapeshifting ability. and no, they aren't a furry

im not gonna go over relationships since ill establish that in my writing. but heyyy heres some random info about the characters:

they all live together in a house they rented. they split the rent and everyone has to pitch in. usually they collect horns, fangs, or skins from 'demons' and sell it since they can be turned into valuable resources (usually for magic purposes, ill think about that later lol).

-their home is in a forest a few miles from a suburban hill. its also on a high hill above the city, so if you reach the edge of the forest then you can get a view of the city lights. my fantasy bro

-nalani's basically the parent of the house. he's the only one who knows how to cook and drive. he doesnt trust anybody behind the wheel. they tried to get the others to cook a meal and they cooked a fire. he makes them do chores tho

-everyone has their own rooms. marelle likes to sleep in the bathtub, for some reason. santez was banished to the basement cause he kept blasting music at 2 in the morning.

-rene drinks a lot. the legal age to drink is 18 at wherever the fuck they live, so dont worry about that.

-santez listens to lady gaga. and he also has a serious addiction to staying up until 72 hours.

-icarus is very skilled, which is how he keeps up with the others and their abilities. he's kind of the tech guy? he's really good with mechanics. he spends a lot of time working on tools for fighting and defense. and developing stupid pointless softwares. he also studies 'titans' and their old ass civilization from any artifacts he can find.

-aeloa likes drawing, but doesnt like showing people her artworks. she's very passionate when it comes to art, since it's something she loved as a kid. she draws yuri /j

-everyone likes chocolate. if someone has a chocolate cake that shit gonna get stolen like it's in a tom and jerry episode. everyone keeps their secret stashes. they also try to find each other's secret stashes. all the time.

-marelle's a NERDDD. she reads non-fiction and stuff, nerd!! ze might drop the most baffling word in the dictionary during a casual conversation. she's very intelligent, which makes zir bad at explaining things in a way that's simple for others. when icarus explains things he's just extremely vague and absurd in his wording and doesnt offer any context at all.

Bdays :3

format is month/day

Nalani: 4/15

Icarus: 9/2

Santez: 1/18

Marelle: 12/23

Aeloa: 3/27

Rene: 2/7

okay thats all for now lol im working on a magic system and i either will post it...or start mentioning magic in my drabbles without making it an info dump somehow

#oc #ocs #original character #info dump #what am i doing #believe in me guys trust #questioning everything #its a hobby #writing #not really

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years ago

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The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry!

masterlist | asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could.

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.”

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips.

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.”

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.”

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.”

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.”

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible.

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it.

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name.

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.”

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled.

You certainly did.

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter.

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could.

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?”

“Uh. . .”

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.”

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.”

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.”

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand.

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting.

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at.

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed.

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened.

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle.

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth.

“Thank you.”

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this.

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly.

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.”

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.”

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.”

“Better not.”

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has.

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.”

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.”

“Men are pigs.”

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.”

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it.

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?”

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.”

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.”

“The businessmen not up too much?”

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.”

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.”

“Totally.” She snorts.

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.”

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café.

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?”

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?”

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.”

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.”

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.”

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.”

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.”

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on.

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?”

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?”

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?”

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.”

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.”

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.”

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised.

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you.

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.”

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?”

“Uh. . . yeah.”

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.”

You swear you felt your heart burst.

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh.

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating.

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well.

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you.

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks.

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you?

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that.

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do.

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself.

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people.

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes.

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out.

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8?

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list.

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere?

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai?

Italian sounds good.

Great. I’ll send you details over.

Thank you :)

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams.

Night, Harry.

You slept well that night.

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.”

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it.

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.”

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.”

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.”

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.”

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.”

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.”

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.”

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.”

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it.

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him.

“Ruby will cover your shift.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!”

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.”

“Anything. Well not anything.”

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.”

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record.

He nods, “Just that.”

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.”

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it.

“Have fun at your thing Friday.”

“Thank you. . .?”

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you.

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather.

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place.

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club.

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days.

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him.

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.”

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.”

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.”

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more.

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table.

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.”

“Nervous for what?”

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.”

“You don’t have to be nervous.”

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could.

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.”

“You don’t really know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you.”

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking.

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?”

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.”

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.”

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.”

“I do.”

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to.

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much.

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.”

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.”

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.”

“Please kiss me.”

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath.

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks.

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his.

“Good.”

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips.

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.”

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle.

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?”

“I’d love to.”

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.”

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night.

You couldn’t wait for him to return home.

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain.

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job.

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time.

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay.

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly.

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.”

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.”

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.”

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage.

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do.

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room.

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself.

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite.

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight.

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more.

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.”

“To get my hands on her.”

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him.

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked.

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.”

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.”

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts.

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin.

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that.

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances.

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.”

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.”

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.”

“Really?”

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped.

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate.

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly.

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either.

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless.

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.”

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.”

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over.

“A Birthday party.”

“Yours?”

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.”

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard.

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?”

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.”

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.”

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.”

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“Wanting too, you know. . .?”

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.”

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye.

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.”

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.”

“You don’t.”

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.”

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.”

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you.

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life.

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.”

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?”

He hums, beaming a smile at you.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.”

“Please.”

“I’ll see you then.”

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him.

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips.

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his.

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?”

“Upstairs.”

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going.

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed.

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so.

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers.

You bite your lip, grinning up at him.

“What are you planning?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?”

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?”

“More than okay, baby.”

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances.

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail.

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could.

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling.

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.”

“Good.” You giggle.

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more.

“Fuck me.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch.

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear.

“Is this okay?”

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material.

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm.

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.”

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so.

“No fair.” You whine.

“Life isn’t.”

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed.

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?”

“More than okay.”

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound.

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.”

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.”

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit.

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips.

“Feel so good, H.”

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so.

“Fuck, shit, oh god.”

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before.

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off.

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’

“I’m never doing that again.”

“Good.” He pecks your lips.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic

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majorxmaggiexboy · 3 years ago

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idk if i’m actually going to attempt to participate but i still want to make a little list of Tober/Tember prompts and ideas of what to do with them. also tagging @f-ro-g bc New Pack. Every time i do one of these i start forgetting every media i’ve ever consumed so we’re going to see if i can at least get more than like three different fandoms on here. Might or might not come back through and flesh these out with actual details later on.

Whumptober Ideas

1) All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go/”You have to let go”/Barbed Wire/Bound - Hadestown, full stop. The whole prompt is Hadestown. It’s in the lyrics, even. It is this post that makes me finally notice the “Keep on walking and don’t look back” line in Wait For Me and i’m so angry right now

2) Talking is Overrated/Garotte/Choking/Gagged - I’m thinking a rewrite of my first Three Musketeers fic just because it was funny the first time around and also wouldn’t take much Effort. Next.

3) Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But.../Taunting/Insults/”Who did this to you?”

The Bradmadge Brawl of S2E1 but with passion and malice next question

4) Trust Fall/”Do you trust me?”/Taken Hostage/Pushed

Nothing springs immediately to mind but i’m leaning toward Psych or The New Pack

5) Red In My Ledger/Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

*slams hand on table* New Pack. Mordaunt. It writes itself.

6) Touch and Go/Bruises/Touch-Starved/Hunger

On-Drakon we’re going to give Arman and Mira some love even if only two people on this website even know them.

7) My Spidey-Sense is Tingling/Helplessness/Numbness/Blindness

TASM just for the sake of it? Undecided

8) Coughing Up a Lung/Pneumothorax/Exotic Illness/”Definitely Just a Cold”

Ben Tallmadge and the Delaware Dive next question

9) Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated/Presumed Dead/Blind Rage/Tears

Bucky it’s your turn babe

10) Oops, I Did It Again/Hospital/Flare-Up/Ice Chips

Ben you’re going back in the Delaware it’ll be so funny

11) Just Keep Swimming/Adrift/Drowning/Dehydration

Personally i think having a third Ben vs. Water fic would be the funniest possible move but Grimaud or Mordaunt could also work here

12) It’ll Be Fun, They Said/Torture/Made to Watch/Begging

Jean-Olivier comes to mind but hmmmmm there was also that one TURN S3 au that could work

13) That’s Gonna Leave a Mark/This Is Gonna Suck/Burns/Cauterization

Hmmmmmm OH! OH! Raoul! The New Pack. Done.

14) Under Pressure/Crush Injuries/Beaten/Force

It says Force and Force is Star Wars so naturally this is Mando’s number.

15) Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever/Delirium/Fever Dream/Bees

Ben Tallmadge guess what....

16) On a Need-to-Know Basis/Recovery/Scars/Aftermath

I’m thinking the Psych Not-Ghost AU would work here but there are certainly other options.

17) Field-Care 101/”Please don’t move!”/Hemorrhage/Dread

Might go with something Leverage right here just because i just watched Leverage. Nothing’s jumping immediately to mind. Warm Bodies could also work though.

18) The Doctor is In/”Now smile for the camera!”/Doctor’s visit/CPR

I’m thinking Reid just because Dr. and i’ve never been able to write Doctor Who so. What other Doctor characters are there. McStuffins isn’t in the running here. Oh! We could do something MCU, Bruce is a Doctor isn’t he? God can you imagine Dr. Hulk trying to

19) Just a Scratch/Bitten/Bleeding/Stabbing

Didn’t ... d’Artagnan once utter the phrase “it’s just a scratch” in relation to someth.....first episode, i think? Great so we have a winner, good job everybody.

20) Lost & Found/Trunk/Trapped underwater/Solitary Confinement

Weirdly Mando is the first character to come to mind. Someone beat me to 80% of my other idea but there’s potential.

21) That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be/Bleeding Through Bandages/Pressure/Blood-Matted Hair

Let’s be real the only two options for this one are Bucky or Eliot and they’re virtually the same character so where does that leave me

22) They Made Me Do It/Cursed/Demon/Obsession

*vague wave* Merlin ?

23) You Break It, You Buy It/Auction/Ransom/Pursuit

That one 3M au with Athos and the big mix-up and the Oops and all the...stuff, yeah. That works.

24) One Down, Two to Go/Self-Induced Injuries to Escape/Flashback/Revenge

Holy sh- i didn’t see this one initially. I mean? Jean? Ow.

25) Hide & Seek/Escape/Flight/Hiding

Psych? Orrrrr....TGM?

26) You Will Go Down With This Ship/Fallen/Waterfall/Trap Door

I’m trying to think of literally anything i’ve ever read or watched that’s got a ship in it ummmmmmm hey what if we interpret “ship” as yeaaaah let’s do another Mando one that’ll work

27) “I’m Fine, I Prom...”/Passing Out/Vertigo/Collapse

I mean..... .... ... is there a character this doesn’t work for though? Wait. No actually let’s do Childermass since he gets that what is it an allergic reaction to magic? I mean i know Segundus gets like that to so....ha let’s make it be Both of them.

28) It’s Not Just In Your Head/”Good, you’re finally awake”/Nightmares/Panic

First thought is New Pack but it might take some pondering.

29) All Work and No Play/”You’re still not dead?”/Too weak to move/overworked

it’s like Civil War but with Bucky and Jean-Olivier having an all-out brawl good lord it’s an either/or situation.

30) Digging Your Grave/Major Character Death/Left For Dead/Ghosts

*shot of choc milk* the exact TURN AU i was Just thinking about yesterday,,,

31) Hurt & Comfort/Disaster Zone/Trauma/Prisoner

I feel like i need to put Gwynplaine here just because he hasn’t had a turn yet

Alt. Prompts

1) Losing Control

Arman. Very obviously extramuch Arman definitely. Let’s have another one with the involuntary dragon himbo.

2) Threats

*chin hands* trying to think of a character who gets threatened a lot. will circle back. I’m actually thinking Psych again but idk.

3) Caning

Ro we’ve genuinely discussed about 16 different variations on this one i think it’s Time

4) Mercy

MORDAUNT MORDAUNT NEXT QUESTION

5) Forgotten

Is it time for Jack Frost of all people to make an appearance or is this just Bucky again

6) Head Injury

It would be real easy to just put the headbonk au here but i’m going to try to show some restraint and do a different headbonk story

7) Screaming

Going to assign Gwynplaine here just because he really has been neglected in this lineup and also it would probably be good for him to vent a little bit in this manner

8) Comfort

Someone’s going to get petted like a cat and i just haven’t decided whomst but when i do it’s over for everybody

9) Self-Sacrifice

What do i even say to that i Feels like another New Pack but it’s still up for grabs tbh

10) Trapped

Tempted to pour one out and just say Bucky but idk idk we’ll think of something this is very much a first draft stream of thought general idea planning session

11) Near Death Experience

It would be hilarious to just put something like Meet Joe Black for this one but WAIT NO NO GO BACK ACTUALLY WARM BODIES LET’S DO WARM BODIES

12) Regret

It’s gotta either be Psych or TURN

13) Tragedy

My first thought is to do a damn Hannibal fic without ever having actually watched the show just because i’m still angry about how i read it ended but considering that i only know the characters’ voices from tumblr chatposts i feel like that’s not the best venue to

heck we might just do New Pack

14) Battlefield

Either TURN or New Pack or....the song’s a little bit dramatic for a Bucky but actually....unless? no....but Maybe,

15) Anxiety

Every character i’ve ever cared about could potentially fit right here so :/ Arman could have 3rd ficlet but again, literally every character, i,,,,,they’ve all got anxiety X’D

#long post

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier has adhd #losers x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #losers club x reader

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ineedglasses · 4 years ago

Text

VK Character Analysis: Shizuka Hiou

Once in high school, an old friend who also read VK asked me who my favorite character was, and when I said Shizuka, she was shocked. Now her favorite was Zero, and she thought I hated Zero since I liked Shizuka, his enemy.

That is not true, I don’t hate Zero. For some reason, some Zero fans seem to think anyone that likes Shizuka hates Zero. There is NO correlation between liking Shizuka and hating Zero. Some people love them both, while some people hate them both.

Anyway, my friend seemed appalled when I told her my fav character and she asked me why. At that age I wasn’t the most articulate or the most patient, so I simply told her, “just because.” So, now that I have free time and because her question had bothered me for a while, I decided I should write down my thoughts on why I love Shizuka.

XXX

First of all, Shizuka was NOT actually insane.

Medically speaking, “insanity” is associated with conditions like bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. There is no indication in the manga or anime that she exhibited any signs or symptoms of those diseases, such as hallucinations or delusions.

The regular definition of insane is to exhibit a severely disordered state of mind or to be affected with mental illness. Even by this definition, Shizuka was not insane.

She was aware of her actions and of what is right and what is wrong. The only time she can be considered “insane” is right after her lover was killed, when she was so overcome by grief and anger she could not think straight and focused on revenge without stopping to think who the real enemy was (cough, Rido). And in that state of severe emotional turmoil she went after the Kiryuus. But I do not think that can be considered true insanity, because it was a onetime occurrence.

Shizuka knows that she was wrong to kill the Kiryuus, because they were simply following orders and doing their job, and also because the real mastermind behind her lover’s death was Rido. She even acknowledges that her actions in regard to the Kiryuu parents and Zero were “sinful”, whereas a truly crazy person probably is unable or unwilling to admit that. If anyone were actually insane in VK, it would probably be Rido.

XXX

Secondly, she did NOT attack the Kiryuus out of a random whim or desire to do evil things.

All readers should already know this, since Hino explicitly states that Shizuka was motivated by revenge. Shizuka ONLY went after the Kiryuus because they wronged her first.

They killed her ex-human, the only person she ever loved. Hunters are only supposed to kill crazed level E’s and vampires that have harmed humans, but her lover was none of that. He should not have been killed by those standards.

But the Kiryuus were simply following orders without question, and killed someone they shouldn’t have, and thus they were killed in return.

For hunters, being killed by vampires seeking revenge is not a shocking end. Even Zero’s mom mentioned that, when they were packing, saying they should move soon so vampires do not find out where they lived. People who kill tend to get killed too, that’s just the reality of that sort of life. Zero’s parents were not normal, innocent civilians, they were people that killed vampires for a living. Thus, I don’t think Shizuka killing them is so shocking and unforgivable. I can understand why she attacked the Kiryuus, although it is still wrong (because hate breeds more hate, and the idea of an eye for an eye is not good).

What was truly unforgivable was that Shizuka turned Zero into a vampire, to hurt his parents as much as she can. This is where she went too far in her vengeance because children are innocent, it was only the parents that should be punished. And yes, I acknowledge that these actions are bad, even if I am her fan, I am not blind to her flaws.

Anyway, Shizuka would never have bothered crossing paths with the Kiryuus if they had never killed her lover.

XXX

Thirdly, although she was an antagonist in the story, she had her own moral code. She was not evil, and rather more of a neutral grey, and I appreciate characters like that.

She wasn’t like Rido, who used even his own son as a tool, and who did not care for anyone. Shizuka cared for Ichiru, despite the fact that he was her enemy’s son. She felt a sort of kinship with him because they were both alone and had nowhere to go. She gave him her own blood and flesh and refused to turn him the whole time they were together, even when she was dying, because she knew he would have been in more danger if he was a vampire instead.

Ichiru understood that she genuinely cared for him, because even when he was dying, he asked Zero to not hate her, even if Zero can’t forgive her.

Shizuka also kept her promise to Maria and gave the sickly girl her blood to make her better (in comparison, Rido just took over Senri’s body without asking for permission or giving him anything in return).

And thus Shizuka is a sympathetic villain, and Hino points that out in the interlude chapter where Ichiru comments how Shizuka was “beautiful even as she was dying”, in contrast to Rido, who Kaname once referred to as “the dregs of an ugly obsession.”

Even Kaname felt sympathy for her, because when he killed her, he didn’t just let her drop to the floor but caught her and laid her down carefully on the floor. He also assured her that he would not let her life be wasted, and that he would definitely end Rido.

XXX

And finally, she was a very tragic character, a victim of circumstances herself.

(This is her history, taken straight from her character profile in the official fan guide)

Shizuka was locked up in a cage as soon as she was born, because apparently some members of the Hio clan had also gone berserk before.

(On a side note, I doubt the Hious had a genetic defect leading to mental illness, it was probably a circumstantial thing, like how Rido most likely started off sane but life took directions that pushed him off the edge towards the end. After all, they are purebloods and their genes are supposed to be flawless. And Rido…I have so many thoughts about that dude, but I will save them for another post.)

Hino never stated how old Shizuka was, but since we know that Rido, Haruka, and Juri are “over 3000” according to the guidebook, she is probably around that age. If we treat the Fleeting Dreams novel as canon, then Shizuka is probably even younger than Juri, because Rido mentions that Shizuka was still “a tiny child” when his parents kept Juri away from him and engaged him to Shizuka instead. So, I assume that Shizuka spent almost 3000 years, her whole life, locked up in a cage with barely any company, except maybe the occasional visitor (like how child Kaname visited her once).

3000 years is a long, long time. To put it into perspective, the USA as a country is roughly 250 years old. So she was locked in a cage, all by herself for the timespan it would take 12 USAs to rise and fall. It is really a wonder how she did not actually go crazy and end up more damaged than she was!

Besides the tragedy of having her freedom taken away, no one loved or cared about her, something mentioned by both Maria and the guidebook. Shizuka herself commented that she was envious of Yuki, who had been cherished, unlike her.

(A bit of a tangent, but I am quite curious what happened to Shizuka’s parents. Why did they just let her be locked up? It is very irresponsible to bring a child into the world if you aren’t going to bother taking care of it. And it seemed she had family members because Kaname later on killed the head of the Hio clan. IDK what her familial relationship with that particular Hio man was, but she seemed to have been neglected by her own clan.)

Anyway, everyone probably treated her warily, like a bomb that might explode at any time. She was basically an outcast. Take for example how Aidou says it is unlucky to even mention her.

If there was someone besides her dead lover, Ichiru, and Maria, who did not treat her with suspicion or fear, it was probably Rido, and he certainly did not treat her well either. Ichiru mentions that Rido was the one who imprisoned her and changed the hunter list. Based on that, I assume Rido directly ordered her locked up, or used his influence with the Senate to have them lock her up. Either way, the dude had something to do with it.

Besides locking her up, Rido most likely treated her poorly, him being the way he is. His main issue with her is that she refused to become obedient like Senri’s mom. And IDK about the rest of you, but whenever a man says he wants to make a woman “obedient”, I get bad vibes. He probably did some shady and questionable things in his attempts to make her docile.

If Shizuka had been engaged to someone else other than Rido, someone more normal, like Isaya, her life would probably have been more bearable. Although Rido did not want her because he was unhealthily obsessed with Juri, he had to ruin Shizuka’s life and happiness instead of just letting her be. He did that out of some petty reasoning, basically “If I can’t be happy, you can’t be happy either”. His decision to put her lover on the execution list led to many tragedies.

This man is really the root of all evil in VK, LOL.

XXX

Finally, after all those centuries of loneliness, Shizuka met someone who treated her well, for the first time. Thus, her attachment to her ex-human lover was extremely strong, and it made sense why she could not move on, why she was so consumed by revenge. Unlike normal people who can find solace being comforted by friends and family, she doesn’t have that kind of support. And furthermore, she is a pureblood, all of whom have been shown to form extremely strong attachments to the ones they love, and have trouble moving on.

And regarding her lover, we can’t even be sure if he loved her back. Shizuka said that he most likely never forgave her until the end for turning him, and that he never yielded to her, but went with her when she proposed running away together because remaining with her was his only option. Honestly, her lover didn’t seem too happy being with her, or if he did care for her, their relationship was still strained and angsty, not the simple, lovey-dovey relationship Haruka and Juri had.

Overall, her romance was ill-fated, they simply would have never worked out because they were supposed to be predator and prey. I have a feeling that even if the Kiryuus hadn’t been assigned to kill him, she and her ex-human would not have had a happy ending regardless.

Anyway, after Shizuka lost him, she also lost her will to live. She only hung on to life out of the desire to kill Rido, but she wasn’t even seriously trying. Her biggest desire was to die, and we can see that in how she didn’t bother resisting when Kaname killed her. When she laid on the floor dying, she looked the most peaceful she had ever been. Later on, Maria (mistakenly thinking it was Zero who killed her) also commented that Shizuka probably wanted Zero to kill her. Sara also said Shizuka lost her will to live and mentioned how she doesn’t want to become like her.

Finally, Shizuka was definitely tragic, because even Kaname who killed her pitied her, commenting: “It’s sad isn’t it? I wonder if anyone truly understood her.”

I love this character partly because I feel so bad for her. While Zero suffered early on, he eventually got to marry the girl he loved and had a daughter with her. Kaname also got to be with Yuki, had a daughter with her and got to meet both daughters and experience being with family when he was revived. But Shizuka…her whole life was a tragedy, and the only time she was happy was that brief period when she was with her lover. However, the time she spend with him was a tiny drop, almost nothing compared to how long her life was overall.

A lot of characters in VK had sadness in their lives, but her life struck me as the worst. If I had to pick someone to be in VK, it would definitely not be her.

IMO, her life was screwed the moment she got engaged to Rido. Even though she wasn’t crazy, she was still locked up and treated like she was. Her circumstances/fate pushed her to make the choices she did and end up a villain. If fate had been kinder to her, she would not have become a villain at all.

Other reasons I love her are because of how beautiful and elegant she is, how she has an air of mystery and sadness, and how her story just interested me the most.

And I get that other people still hate/dislike her regardless of everything I mentioned, and that is alright. This is not meant to convince people to like her, but to explain why I personally love her. So don’t come at me trying to tell me why she is evil and I should be ashamed for liking her okay? (ง'̀-'́)ง

So! If you ever read this long post, Hazel, now you know why she is my favorite character.ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

#Vampire Knight #Shizuka Hio #shizuka hiou #zero kiryu #Kaname Kuran #Rido Kuran

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macklives · 5 years ago

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session 92 end (bye 413...)

this session was so long but so fucking hectic what the fuck

im going to try and slim it down to its bare essentials rather than go on a full rant because im pretty sure i want to make a post later on about vriska’s characterisation (not anything about me liking her/disliking her, just an analyse on her life really, so it wont be too bias because thats not the point of an analysis. i also want to do one on aradia, been meaning to for a while... hmm... damn i havent done much analogies lately, and i THINK the last long post on a character i made was about davesprite??? so its been a fucking while. that being said, ill leave a lot of details out for this end of session notes so i dont just repeat myself later on. rather will keep to plot points here and then make character points in another)

alright

first we had a page or two where aradia confided in nepeta about her being dead which means nepeta is the only one to know this revelation. im pretty sure aradia confided because there was no other way around it, since nepeta was her server player, so it was inevitable. either way, aradia still put her trust in nep, which means, if you think about it, nobody else knows and nobody else ever will. and considering aradia asked nep to keep it a secret, it probably wont get explored by others until MAYBE later on, whenever its plot relevant, so everyone will be in the dark about it for a while which ill have to remember for future dialogue and scenes with aradia in them

then we met vriska

which, yes, is a meme. i may not have been on a lot of fandom platforms, but you cant escape some of the stuff that goes around the internet. even if you dont know undertale, im pretty sure you know of sans. or komaeda if you have/havent seen danganronpa. its just.. the memes, ya know? ive heard from many sources of the “vriska did nothing wrong” quote (even through mbmbam which??? WHAT) but since i didnt even know what it meant, i never explored it so then i never knew it was a homestuck thing. imagine my surprise...... i think even at the time, i wouldnt have known what homestuck was either honestly so it wouldnt even matter. i only recently learned about the fandom.... uhh, maybe half a year ago??? yeah, august, so my knowledge was slim but vriska is a thing ive heard before, which still shocks me

goddammit

anyways back to her

so her intro was something, we pretty much found out she likes DnD (a FANATIC in fact) and feeds her lusus the flesh of living trolls. which is fucked up. but i wont get too much into detail about that until i make a post about her life on alternia and the consequences of such. or maybe just alternia in general...?? or *both* heheheh but i feel i need more information before i go off on a tangent about that

then we met??? white text dude?? who is a major asshole but an asshole with insults that hURted, to think i felt bad for VRISKA when that happened. woah.

i said before, but... karkat, he cant really hit deep because his insults are just HIM and his way to express himself. like some people find it natural to just go “FUCK YOU” to show emphasis on a point, and thats just karkats way. he may do it so aggressively that it takes you a second to realize what he said, but usually i dont take anything to heart whenever he spurts out some insults. ive progressed to the point where whatever he says, is just “karkat” and not him trying to be actively mean. rather, its now funny whenever he does say anything SOMEWHAT creative, dude has an imagination that goes on for miles

but vriska?? she IS trying to be a bully, you can tell. but i feel theres something much more to that. like shes trying to prove herself and her “blueblooded” demeanours or whatever the hierarchy is. she doesnt want to show emotions so she makes herself a barrier by being mean is what i can gather from her conversation with kanaya. im pretty sure youre not supposed to understand her until its pointed out and rather see her as an “antagonist” at first, but yeah, her insults are more pitiful than anything and i also cant take her too seriously. i may not like her as a person but her character is interesting because you cant always have the goodie two shoes as the protags. it doesnt diversify the characterisation so i like vriska as someone who makes the plot work and it becomes more interesting since you have someone that makes it harder for the main crew to progress. a happy-go-lucky adventure with no trouble and no turnabouts would be boring in a way. so having a character like vriska, or like this new white text guy, it makes you stop for a second and realize oh shit okay, here’s where shit CAN go wrong and WHY. and i do especially like it when these bastards of characters somehow have more depth than being the “bastard characters”. kinda humanizes them in a way. doesnt mean you have to LIKE them continuously, but theyre humans (trolls whatever) in the end and every person has their own story whether its for better or for worse

for example, i like her being placed into the story, along with white text, by how its all leading to this “accident” and is slowly showing us hints on what happened, but in the end, it wont be until later that we know the full story. even if it was in the past, it apparently is very vital to the plot and shapes how the characters act in the future, so important aspects like that are to look out for. and usually they only occur when theres been some trouble within friend dynamics. so without these bastard of characters, plot wouldnt grow AS strong and i often keep that in mind when i explore a story.

anyways, I HAD A POINT TO THIS: so vriska and karkat are characters who are yes, mean, but it seems to be their personality, and the way they either show emotions and convey feelings (karkat) or make a barrier so they DONT show emotions to produce vulnerability (vriska), white text guy seems to mostly be out to be an asshole. he told vriska she was useless to sum it up but im not too sure if this is one of those “first dialogue” to mould out a bias opinion before we even get to the character themselves, but judging by how vriska and karkat played out, he surely means something bad and i dont know how to explain it. but i cannot base anything off from one piece of dialogue. i dont even know what else to call him other than white text guy so...... ill just leave that out for now, until we finally get his introduction

though, i do wish to mention, and will expand on, im not wrong when i say karkat and vriska are similar but in different context. sorry if youre favourite is karkat and you dont like vriska, or vice versa, but uhhhh their introductions are so similar its uncanny and the way they’re portrayed is the same except one is more on crack about the meddling, while the other is angry about the meddling. similar to how it was with karkat, we were introduced to vriska talking with someone we knew (tavros) whom she obviously didnt like, so obviously, from her point of view, she wanted to be menacing. like how karkat was menacing to jade because she wouldnt listen to his point... he got angry, so he lashed out. but us, the readers, didnt know that. we thought “oh god its this asshole” until we made it further in the story and started to warm up to karkat. it may not be the same with vriska, she may be a bully regardless, but you cannot tell me we moulded a bias towards her character as we did when we first read karkat. theyre both truly mean to other people, maybe both for different reasons, but i do want to point out the similarities and not leave that out. im pretty sure andrew basically gave us a conversation that formed our opinion of a character right off the bat rather than go into depth of WHY they did it, and how they are naturally without the conditions of the game. which, you can also see with vriska when she conversed with kanaya. andrew started off with a character who only appears to speak once, and makes you judge them from first appearance alone, without any explanation as to why they said what they said and how they are with other characters, let says. so you assume they were simply a rude character. now look how karkat turned out. so im guessing in homestuck, the first impression should never be the opinion you stick with until MAYBE 5 more conversations with that character (each one different)

OKAY done with the vriska introduction, now to slutquius

yes, hes kinda weird, i have stated that many times. i have no idea what to say about him other than he likes porn, he likes centaur dick which just so happens to be his lusus as well and if that isnt a red flag idk what is

he also likes his lusus milk, right from the udders of his guardian

fun times, fun times

my opinion of equius kinda.. differs. which i should really put in place the “dont judge by first impression” rule, because at first i thought he was rude with, then i thought he was hhh okay, because i understood why he was being so protective over nepeta and her team placement, since the people she was going to play with WERE dangerous. but if you think about it, both sides will probably put you in danger. it just depends on which ones you confide in more to protect your back rather than those which would cause trouble on purpose, in my HONEST opinion. so equius was a little overdramatic on that part, but i got what he meant. he was on the blue team and he didnt want to leave nepeta alone without him on the red. but then this session happened. and he went back to being weird again because of the whole porn thing, especially being so open about it like dude chill youre 13. but the thing is, then i felt bad for him because hes basically touch starved. to say that he could break anything he touches, i doubt people would go up to him for hugs. in fear they would be crushed to death by a simple hug. so im guessing hes rather lonely and doesnt really know how to interact because of this. so i felt sad that he had to live a life where he needs to be careful of everything he touches so it doesnt break randomly. see? poor dude. but then things got weird. and im pretty sure hes a masochist. so my opinion on equius is a fucking cosine graph

which brings us to the final point:

gamzee and equius’ conversation

i dont even know.....like.........gamzee was unaware that equius was using him for his own power play roleplay, right? gamzee knew it was a roleplay but it had had some.. idk.... obvious sexual implications? and i bet gamzee didnt really know that? he thought they were only venting out through a simple roleplay and trying to get closer because he originally thought equius hated him, considering equius flat out said “i hate you” and gamzee went “you tell me everyday and im okay with that” so.. gamzee probably wanted only to get closer to equius so he helped out his little problem which.. thats so sweet but i feel bad he was coerced into something he didnt get, especially since he was innocent enough to go along without knowing equius’ true gain

anyways, equius was getting off with the hierarchy thing. considering he’s “lower” than gamzee, and gamzee is surprisingly ...high on the spectrum??? so equius wanted gamzee to boss him around, because it felt only natural to him since he’s the “inferior one” and gamzee is The Big Man. like i get that, but it was written in a way that was so uncomfortable, that i wish i didnt. equius is just a weird character... hes not BAD per say, but hes... hes something alright

but im really liking gamzee. the two things which struck me in that one conversation, was the “i dont get why we should dictate people by the colour of their blood, i just see people as people” piece of dialogue and “i cant go around pleasing just everything so its alright if you hate me”

thats... so good, idk. i really liked that. i also really liked when kanaya said “youre dangerous but dangerous people are needed and are important because it shapes you” like <33 my fucking heart

god homestuck may be a tad on the weird side with some of its characters but it surely knows how to create great lines of dialogue

and that concludes the long 4 hour session i did, hope you all enjoyed it

with that, i rest

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #hs92 #hs92 end #i wrote more than i should have but i had a lot to say #just you wait for those analogy/analysis posts

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starbuck · 5 years ago

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Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case.

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis.

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop.

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in).

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going!

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

#the terror #i'm REALLY proud of these!! this was so fun to do!#i definitely intend to do this for each episode #no promises for the timing on that but i legitimately have nothing better to do so lol hopefully ep 2 will happen soon!#hope y'all enjoyyyyyyyy #feel free to add comments if you like or you don't have to! whatever is good - i just appreciate anybody slogging through this lol

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klvht · 4 years ago

Text

The Occult vs. “A Cult”

How many can agree that Christianity is a cult?

I thought so too, at first.

I grew up in a Catholic faith, went to a Catholic church, and attended a Catholic school. Over the years, it has changed. I have been to a few different churches, but all focused-on God.

I believe a couple days ago, that God put it on my heart to write about the occult and witchcraft, but I wasn’t sure how to, in order to get my full point across; So I figured I’d just share my journey.

As many of you know, I used to live in Salem, MA & have been visiting there for most of my life. (Shout out to Mr. Roy who had brought my father up there almost his whole life as well, R.I.P.) Don’t get me wrong, Salem is a BEAUTIFUL place, and I love it there, even til this day. The area is super peaceful, has an amazing history, and is overly beautiful. I believe that Salem is one of the centers of witchcraft, and unfortunately, I got into it too. I used to read oracle cards, use a pendulum, practice spells, create sigils, the list goes on. Even as a little girl, my parents were getting their car fixed, and there was a witch there who wanted to speak with me, for whatever reason, which now I find funny that I ended up walking down the same unrighteous path as her later on in life (but as early as 12 years old).

Let’s go back to the home that started it all... upstate, NY. I got my first pack of oracle cards when I used to live in a house built in the 1800’s; my mom purchased them for me. They were contained in a beautiful package littered with “Angel” messages, that would help me tell the future. I also had my first pendulum in that house that I purchased from a visit in Salem. It was a beautiful home, the first one my parents purchased, and we had acres of land, including and above ground pool, a separate garage/bay/barn area, chickens, guinea hens, and an awesome pup.

Above the garage/bay/barn area, there was a door. You walked up the stairs in my backyard, up the hill to the right, and found it. It was very weird, but since the home was so old, we never thought anything about it. I remember the first door, and first room. It was wood, dark, damp, and gross lol. But if you kept walking forward, you came to this second door. I cannot stress enough that this door had Satanic writing all over it, including warnings saying “demon/devil inside”, “do not open”, had a big pentagram on the door, as well as sigils written all over it in what I believed to be red paint or ink. Thinking about it now, I wish I never had the curiosity to open that door, I wish I understood that it was a true warning, whether people believed it to be or were just fooling around. I truly believe upon opening that door is what could have led to the outpouring of demonic and evil spirits in that house, and could have latched on to my family, because once we moved into that home, things were never the same. I remember a trap door being in there, and I remember a burst of warm/hot air that came out as soon as I opened it. It took me a while to open that door, and I’m not sure if that was the only reason, but there were ghosts in my house, and demons, and no one knew any better. My mother saw, felt, and heard a few different ghosts in that house. One she called the ‘cowboy ghost’ which stood in the doorway in one of the hallways that went by my living room and led to the upstairs. She was also in our downstairs bathroom one time, and heard a woman call out “Hello…” as if she just wanted my mother to know that she was there. Lastly, my mother was asleep on the couch one day, and woke up to something screaming in her face, which I know now, had to be a demon. My sister at the time, who could not have been older than 4 when we were living at that house, saw a little boy ghost walk straight through the wall. I never saw anything, but I never really have, I’ve just always been the one to feel presences.

There was sooo much negative energy in that house, and sorry to say it, but so much had manifested over time and had increased the greediness, heartlessness, separation, and negativity in my family. I didn’t see my parents much, they ran a successful construction business out of the home, us kids would NEVER go downstairs or walk around at night by ourselves, and my brother was definitely attacked and latched to in that house.

Upon seeing, feeling, and experiencing all this, my mom went to the local psychic to find out what was going on. She did not know, but trust me, you guys should NOT be relying on a psychic to tell you about your life. The psychic may tell you true things, they may be able to see your home through their ‘third eye’, and they could probably predict things that actually came true at a later date, BUT their messages come from Satan, and other evil spirits who wish to destroy, manipulate, and kill. I’ve experienced this a few times, I’ll elaborate in a few paragraphs to come. The psychic my mom went to, described our home “to a T”. She spoke about my grandfather who had passed, and other life experiences my mom had gone through, which most psychics start off with to gain trust. Then she moved on to how a dark entity was basically scaring my brother day in and day out; he wouldn’t even shower alone. She told my mom how our home was a “walk through” for spirits because there were two cemeteries on each side of the home, down the road both ways. I don’t remember if we ever tried to pray Jesus over the home, or had a priest bless the home.

My mother became ill in that house. Long story short, she collapsed on her and my father’s wedding anniversary in 2005, and my dad resuscitated her. I fully believe she has been latched on to, regardless of what anyone says. It has been 15 years, and the doctors STILL don’t know what is fully wrong or what happened that day. She has had multiple operations, been on a variety of medications, and still, cannot seem to get better.

My most recent encounter was with the New Age religion, earlier in this quarantine time, sometime in February 2020, which seems to collaborate all types of faiths, such as buddhism, chakra practices, satanism, witchcraft, meditation, spirit guides, and even some excerpts from the Bible. The problem was, that I have always known that I had a type of psychic gift, as well as, I considered myself to be an empath; and while that may be true, I did not hold the true meaning or source of these gifts, that were given to me by God, and manipulated by Satan.

What I got out of being involved with multiple groups of “The Great Awakening”, moving from “4D to 6D consciousness”, practicing “meditation” to find my “spirit guides”, “the law of attraction”, etc. was that it is ALL motivated by Satan and manipulated to deceive the souls created by God, to fool them, and to use them for his purpose, just by putting a simple twist on the subject, and to practice this type of inclusivity that the world had never seen before. That’s the thing about Satan, he appears warm & fuzzy, cool & collected, cares about all types of love and inclusivity, JUST to deceive people. He’s an evil mastermind. Remember that when he decides to reveal himself and push his new world order, just as the Bible says will come in these end times.

Let me tell you, the New Age religion is false. I found myself headed down the path very abruptly, and it was like I could not focus on anything else. Whatever demons I was letting into my life legally, (because that’s what you do when you welcome and practice in sin, worldly matters, emotions, feelings, and forms of witchcraft), were now starting to manifest and turn my whole world upside down. I was in a dark and depressed time, suicidal thoughts were again surfacing, I wasn’t caring about my wellbeing, I was hateful towards others, the list goes on.

One day I was meditating to find my “spirit guides”, and idk maybe about 10-15 minutes in, while focusing on my ‘third eye’ chakra, I saw a demon. A literal demon. It was crawling on all fours, had menacing, scary, sharp, flesh ripping teeth, and it JUMPED at me. (Think of those stupid jump scare videos on social media). As SOON as that happened, I called out to Jesus and said the ‘Our Father’ prayer, and instantly at once, I felt safe again. It was either that day or a few days later, that Jesus visited me in a dream to save me once again, because I had decided to focus on dark powers to give myself purpose, identity, and power. He was there for me, even though I left the path that He was with me on.

Others that I have spoken to that once practiced meditation and finding ‘spirit guides’, said that as soon as they turned to Christianity and Jesus once again, the same thing happened. These ‘spirit guides’ were demonic in spirit, but appeared as nice, helpful beings initially. This is terrifying stuff guys, but that’s what Satan is all about. He wants to deceive you until the very last second when Jesus comes, just so you will worship Satan and his beasts, rather than knowing that you can call on Jesus anytime to come help. There really is no way to “close the circle” as some witches call it during some of their sacrificing, or “white magic” rituals.

I have to admit, that I do feel guilty and a bit of groaning within me because I waited so long to write on this, because God put it in my mind and in my heart a couple days ago. And now look, there’s a full moon/eclipse that’s happening tonight, and witches all around the world are trying to “hex the racists”, “restore order”, and “bring peace” with their practices TONIGHT. I’m just glad that God showed me that before I went another day without writing on this subject.

Again, if you have any questions or want to hear more about my experiences, (I have plenty more that I may write about), feel free to comment or inbox me.

Thanks for reading,

God Bless You,

Jesus Saves.

I love you guys.

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vincess-princess · 5 years ago

Text

ex malo bonum

Chapter 3.

Word count: 3761 Warnings: self-harm tendencies, forced alcohol consumption (idk really how else to tag this), non-con attempt, blood, needles mention

Vince stared at the cracked ceiling.

The ceiling stared back, its cracks and spots like wrinkles and blemishes on an old face. Some more staring, and Vince would probably start seeing eyes.

His home – former home – was supposed to be somewhere above the ceiling. Somewhere up in the sky. No one knew for sure where it was, and now that Vince thought about it, he never knew where exactly it was located as well. It was just there, in him and far from him at the same time, but always at the arm’s length, always there when Vince needed it.

No. No, it wasn’t. For him, it had been there. It remained there still, yet out of Vince’s reach. Its calming, encouraging presence, constantly in the back of his mind before, was no longer there. It got lost among all those new thoughts and feelings, all products of his vessel’s weird, flawed human nature, but now also strangely personal to him too. In search of that presence, Vince delved deep into his mind, where he had never been before, and didn’t find anything.

Or rather, he did. Something he had never seen before; something so foreign and at the same time so his.

Vince yanked himself back to the reality, farther from those somethings. But having once seen them, he couldn’t pretend they weren’t there anymore.

So he decided to stare at the ceiling and focus on the pain in his shoulder. Pain was easy to understand; safe, in a way. Pain was punishing, and punishment was freeing. It was something Jesus had gone through. Maybe Vince was the next Jesus, and his cross was this blood-soaked bed, and his nails were humiliation and manhandling by those demons.

An angel would never have such a thought, something whispered to him faintly, bringing him back to reality. An angel, a true angel, would strive to become like Him, but never compare themselves to Him, because He is unreachable.

Vince shivered as though a trickle of cold, pure fear ran down his spine. He pressed his face into the pillow, trying to chafe half-healed scratches on his face, to wring more pain out of them, to have something else to focus on.

It only made matters worse. His pain mixed with his desperation, fear and unanswered questions, turning into delirium so dark, so deep Vince drowned in it, the reality, like sunlight in the water, was blacked out. He didn’t hear the door creaking, letting in a night visitor, he didn’t see his slim frame looming over the bed, and only when a hand grasped his shoulder and shook him roughly, his mind reluctantly rose to the surface.

Vince’s heart was racing, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, but relief washed over him once he saw that cracked ceiling again. Even if that was Nikki, even if he had come to do what he promised to do to him, it was still better than down there, in the dark. Vince squinted, trying to discern the visitor's face in the faint light from the street. He wouldn’t be able to tell apart Nikki and Tommy, who resembled each other like brothers, if not for the hair: Tommy’s bushy and curly, Nikki’s straight and thick.

The shadow was gangly, and the hair framing his face was messy and wavy. Tommy.

"Asleep, blondie?" Tommy confirmed Vince’s guess a second later and knelt beside the bed. He had something in his hand, but Vince didn't catch a glimpse of it.

"You know we don't sleep," Vince replied indifferently, doing his best to keep the quiver away from his voice, and after a quick glance at Tommy, moved his gaze back to the ceiling.

"Well, I dunno. You could have passed out."

Vince didn't answer. He shouldn't have done it the first time as well, but the question was so normal, so casual that for a second he forgot who was asking.

"Huh, too proud to talk to us, right?" Tommy said light-heartedly. "That's not for long." He reached up to Vince's handcuffed wrists and freed one of them, leaving his other wrist chained to the headboard.

"What are you doing?" he couldn’t help asking. Be that Nikki, he would have kept silent throughout the whole process, be that whatever had come to his perverted mind. But this wasn't Nikki.

“Fixing Nikki’s bullshit," Tommy replied shortly and reached to unbutton Vince's shirt.

That was when Vince, already baffled, couldn’t remain still. He pushed Tommy away with his free arm and rolled to the other side of the bed. He didn’t know how he had expected Tommy to react. Get angry, maybe. Drag him back. Hit him. Enchain his hand back to the headboard. There were so many options.

Tommy didn’t pick any of them. Instead, he burst into laughter. He did drag him back by his hurt arm then, making Vince hiss in pain. And kept laughing. The entire time.

"You should have seen your face. You looked so frightened,” the demon explained once his laughter subdued. Vince was pretty sure he still had fear written across his face, made worse by Tommy’s following words.

“Lie still and it won't hurt as much," he promised, unbuttoning the last button on his shirt and pulling it down Vince’s torso. Seeing Vince’s eyes widen, he chuckled. "What, are you really that afraid of losing your virginity? It's not even a real thing. Just a social construct."

With increasing desperation Vince watched as Tommy climbed onto the bed and straddled his torso, pinning his injured arm to the mattress. For a couple of seconds he enjoyed the mix of fear and disgust on Vince’s face before finally announcing: "Relax. I ain't gonna fuck you. Right now, at least. Maybe later, after I'm finished with that," he poked Vince's shoulder right above the cut.

Vince blinked in confusion, completely taken aback. He had already been mentally preparing for humiliation and pain, the only things he expected from those demons. Had expected.

“Why would you do that?”

Tommy ignored his question. “Jeez,” he grinned at the sight of Vince wincing from hearing this word so distorted, “you’ve got a lot of blood in here.” He bent forward to take a closer look at the cut. His long fluffy hair tickled Vince’s nose and got covered in blood that was all over his shoulder. “Do you even have any left?”

“Does it matter?” Vince murmured, getting increasingly uncomfortable under Tommy’s fixed, serious stare that absolutely didn’t match his nonchalant tone.

“It fucking does!” Tommy flared up, making Vince flinch. He didn’t expect him to sound so serious; he didn’t expect him to even be capable of acting that way. “You think, immortality and shit, yeah? Threw myself off a building, woke up unharmed, now I can do whatever the fuck I want? Well, buddy, it ain’t gonna work like that anymore. Bodies are fragile. They break. And you won’t get a new one any time soon, if ever. You gotta be careful with yours from now on.”

“But can’t demons possess human bodies?”

“Yeah, they can. Those like Mick. I ain’t Mick, you ain’t Mick, and it’s gonna take us half a millennium at best to even try to compare ourselves to Mick. Didn’t you feel it? He’s… he’s…” Tommy trailed off. “Well, you get it.”

Vince nodded automatically, remembering the shudder that ran down his spine when he first looked in those clear blue eyes. He did get it.

“Well, back to business,” after a second of silence Tommy dropped onto the bed the things he was holding in his hand. They turned out to be a needle, a reel of black thread and a bottle of something with a very distinct smell. “I am no doctor, so it’s probably gonna be painful and sloppy. No, it’s definitely gonna be painful and sloppy. Sorry to spoil such a great vessel. Or not sorry.” He pinched Vince’s cheek, opened the bottle and took a gulp out of it.

“Here, have some.” Despite Vince’s frantic headshaking, Tommy pushed the bottle between his lips, and Vince, afraid of getting his teeth knocked out, gave in. Tommy upended the bottle, and acold, burning liquid went down Vince’s throat, choking him and sending him into a fit of coughing. Tommy watched him with such a smug grin, he was lucky to be sitting on Vince’s free hand.

“Whiskey,” he patted the bottle lovingly. “Another great invention of humankind, after sex and rock n’ roll. Or, rather, the reason for them.”

“Tastes like shit.” Vince spat out the remains of the drink, aiming at Tommy, but missing, and most of it ended up on his own chin. Tommy snickered and wiped it with his hand.

“That’s because it’s your first time drinkin’. You’ll get used to it.” Tommy spent good five minutes threading a needle and biting his lips in frustration when the thread didn’t want to go through the eye of the needle. Having finally done it through a great effort, he dipped the needle together with the thread into the remains of whiskey. “Also a good antiseptic.”

“Good what?”

Tommy looked at him in confusion for a second before smiling wide, realization on his face. “Damn, I forgot you’re fresh out of Heaven. Alcohol’s good not only for drinking but also for killing bacteria in your wounds so that the inflammation won’t spread to other parts of your body. If not treated, it can actually kill you.” Seeing Vince’s eyes widen, he burst into laughter. “Trashy, right? The cost for occupying a human vessel. They are a pain in the ass, so fragile and prone to illnesses. Even those occupied by us.” Tommy talked so quickly Vince couldn’t even get a word in edgeways. Great, just great, he thought grimly, now he would have to look after this sack of flesh as well. As though he didn’t have other problems in need of an urgent solution.

Tommy raised the needle up to his level, observed it critically and decided it was ready to use.

“Alright, now lie still. It’s gonna hurt anyway but even more, if you twitch.”

“Very reassuring,” Vince muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the pillow. At the mere thought of receiving more pain his body tensed up, and Vince knew that this way it was going to hurt even more. Still, he couldn’t relax.

Instead, he heard a chuckle. “Didn’t know anyone from up there could have a sense of humor.”

Then finally came the pain. Vince winced and breathed shallowly, trying not to make a sound, not to show how he was hurting,

Tommy was definitely no good at sewing. The skin on Vince’s shoulder was already bloody and swollen, and the whole process felt like sticking needles right into the wound. Vince hissed and screwed up his eyes so hard he could see colorful circles, breathing shallowly and biting his lips until they bled. It helped, though. He managed to hold back tears, for now, he concentrated on the lump in his throat so strongly the pain from the needle shifted to the back of his mind, still there, but definitely not as acute as before. Don’t cry, don’t cry, a voice in his hand kept repeating, with dull, unhuman intonations. Don’t lose your composure, it kept saying, and it sounded reasonable.

Vince pressed his lips together tightly, not letting out a single sob, a single tear. He wasn’t going to show Tommy how bad it was hurting, because hurting meant weakness, and weakness meant humiliation.

But God, was it hard.

The cut was narrow but deep, going through almost his entire shoulder. His blood on the needle was making it harder for Tommy to hold it, and it constantly slipped out of his fingers, sometimes while it was still in Vince’s skin. Vince never said a word, just bit down onto his lower lip, again and again, his saliva metallic-flavored.

“So quiet,” Tommy murmured upon pulling out the needle from Vince’s flesh once again. His hand slipped, and the needle sank even deeper in the wound. Vince held down a groan. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt, I know it does. Stop that pretense, for fuck’s sake.”

“What do you want me to do, cry? Throw a fit?” With effort, he almost – almost – managed to sound calm, but the slight quivering of his voice had managed to leak through his already battered facade.

“No, but there’s absolutely no point in holding your emotions in some situations. For example, when you get a wound sewed up with no painkillers whatsoever,” Tommy huffed. “Listen, I couldn’t care less, play a tough one if you want. Just remember that’s not gonna work with Nikki.”

“What do you mean?” Something inside Vince’s chest froze in fear. He knew already what Tommy meant, but there was still a little bit of maybe I am wrong-

“I meant exactly what I said,” Tommy cut off, in a matter of seconds shifting from carelessness to seriousness and completely demolishing Vince’s last bit of hope. He poked Vince’s chest with so much force his finger left a red trace on the skin. “You know he will come here because he always keeps his promises, and when he does come, your stubbornness will only make it worse for you. He wants to get a certain reaction out of you, and if he doesn’t, he will do literally anything, and I mean anything, to get it. You will get out of it with less damage if you just play along.”

During Tommy’s short but convincing speech the silence of the room felt choking. A cold lump in Vince’s stomach grew twice as huge. If even a demon, an evil and wicked creature, tried to warn him about another demon - it was especially serious.

But Vince’s anger, flaring up in his chest, bright, fast and burning, drowned out this very reasonable thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind Vince was surprised at how easy it had risen, powerful and all-consuming.

“If he thinks he can make me do whatever he wants, he is fucking wrong,” Vince hissed. “Did he send you to prepare the ground? To scare me into obedience? Well, tell him he’s gotta put in a real effort to get what he wants!”

His last word was muffled by Tommy’s hand on his mouth.

“Be quiet, idiot!” he whispered, glancing cautiously onto the door. Vince tried to bite him in protest, but Tommy didn’t even let him open his mouth. “You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

Vince tried to shake his hand off, but it stayed firmly on his mouth, pressing his head deep into the pillow. He struggled some more, but his every movement was sending a jab of pain through his shoulder where the needle was still staying. The stitch loosened, and Vince could feel hot drops of blood oozing from the cut.

So after a few more weak jerks, he surrendered, breathing heavily, vision blurred with tears that he tried so hard to hold back and failed.

“Fucking dumbass,” Tommy sighed, examining the stitch. “Ruined all the hard work. I can finish it, but it won’t be half as effective.”

Just do the thing and piss off, Vince wanted to say. He felt so exhausted as though he had run a mile.

“Finish,” he managed to get out. Tommy pulled at the thread, tightening the stitch and eliciting a curse out of Vince, and resumed his work.

Now that Nikki’s name came up in the conversation, Vince’s mind shifted onto him. He was stabbed too, and even deeper than Vince, but he couldn’t remember it doing him any actual harm. When they had arrived to this apartment, his bleeding had already stopped. Vince’s bleeding, on the other hand, had been going on for the rest of the day and half a night. What the?..

“Nikki is a powerful demon,” Tommy had to explain hesitantly when Vince demanded the answer. “Not as powerful as Mick, of course, but definitely not of the weaker kind. He’s been around for a good century longer than me. Still ain’t got no brains, though,” he added with unexpected fondness.

“And you?” Vince asked quickly and regretted it at the very same moment. Tommy’s face, so lively and dynamic before, as though turned into a mask.

“What me?” he said, incomprehension in his voice too perfect to be genuine.

“How long have you been around?”

“How curious you are,” Tommy’s lips were still curved into a smile, but his eyes shifted from cheerful hazel to burnt wood. “Curiosity killed the cat, y’know.”

“What?” Vince blinked in confusion. What did this have to do with a cat? “Really? How?”

Tommy looked at him blankly for a second and then burst into laughter. This time it was sincere.

“Christ, I always forget you don’t know shit about Earth,” he said once he’d calmed down. “You’re gonna be so much fun. That’s just a local saying. Means that you have to pay a price for information. Especially that personal.” He leaned forward, so close to Vince their noses almost touched, looming over him. Vince later would swear he could smell burning wood for a second. “Are you ready to pay the price, blondie?”

“No,” Vince said maybe too quickly, already cursing his curiosity. “Forget it.” Tommy’s pupils were so dilated they took up almost his entire irises. His gaze was making Vince uneasy, and his heart was beating so fast he was sure Tommy could hear it too. When Vince tried to turn his head to avoid looking at those eyes anymore, Tommy grabbed his chin with his fingers, forcing him to stay still. Just like Nikki, Vince realized, a cold shiver running down his spine. Friendlier on the outside, but inside just as dark.

“I’m already done with this,” Tommy said, observing the stitch critically, and bit the rest of the thread off. “And I think I deserve an award.”

That was the last straw.

“That’s what you came for in the first place, right? Could have just gone for it right then and not play a good one,” Vince spit out. He had enough of being scared; now all his fear turned into anger, bitter, resentful anger. Just when he started to lose caution, to relax a little, to dampen his defense and believe not all demons were alike… Fucking asshole. Assholes, all of them. Shouldn’t have answered him the first time.

“Well, mostly,” Tommy grinned, putting away the needle and the reel and reaching for the bottle. “Wanna?”

“Fuck off.”

“All right, more for me,” Tommy downed the rest in one huge gulp. “Imagine how Nikki’s gonna be pissed when he learns he’s not the first,” he chuckled, baring his teeth in a wide smile, a smile that wilted slightly when he met Vince’s gaze. A little more of that, Vince thought with grim satisfaction, and he would learn to burn holes in human skin with his eyes.

Tommy leaned to the side of the bed to put the bottle under the bed and had to let go of Vince’s hand. When he sat up, Vince’s fist collided with his cheekbone. Tommy gasped and flinched back, and Vince couldn’t hold back a sneer.

The injured hand wasn’t capable of anything serious, though. It took Tommy mere few seconds to get over the punch and straighten up. A violent wave of pain swept through Vince’s entire arm, making him hiss in pain and drop his hand weakly onto the bed. He was defenseless - again.

Vince closed his eyes, expecting a response. A punch or, at the very least, a slap on the face. That was what Nikki would do. That was what Vince himself, if they swapped bodies, would do.

Tommy started laughing.

“Oh wow, you aggressive little shit! Did you just go round punching other angels in Heaven like that? Was that why they kicked you out?”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Vince reminded coldly, which launched Tommy into another fit of laughter so strong he almost fell off the bed.

“No, you’re totally a lot of fun,” Tommy claimed once he calmed down enough to be able to speak. “Or maybe you’re trying to get me distracted till everyone wakes up? Huh, blondie, this ain’t gonna work. I mean, yeah, talking to you all night would be pretty cool, but, y’know, a man’s got his needs, and Nikki’s been pretty moody lately.”

Vince was hardly surprised. To believe that the demons who were constantly talking about it hadn’t done it with each other before was to be an utter and complete idiot.

What was the name for it besides hooking-up, by the way?

Resigned, Vince watched as Tommy settled between his thighs, unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his knees. Although the thin fabric hardly provided any protection, its absence brought a feeling of vulnerability so strong Vince couldn’t handle looking at Tommy and stared at the door instead.

“C’mon, that’s only scary until you get down to it,” Tommy said almost sheepishly. “Humans wouldn’t obsess over sex so much if it wasn’t enjoyable.”

I’m no human, Vince wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat.

Tommy’s hands roamed around his hips and legs, then disappeared. Vince heard the zipper getting undone.

And then – footsteps behind the door.

Tommy jumped up, his eyes darting at the door, and Vince caught a glimpse of pure terror on his face before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. The very next moment the door opened, and Mick stepped inside.

“Aha,” he said only, quickly looking over Vince, his sloppily stitched shoulder, pants crumpled at the knees, the empty whiskey bottle sticking out from under the bed. Vince’s cheeks grew strangely hot, and he hopelessly reached out to pull up his pants – hopelessly, because they were out of his reach, but remaining like this, so open and defenseless under Mick’s piercing gaze, was somehow way worse.

When Mick stepped towards the bed, Vince’s hand dropped, and the urge to close his eyes, to escape this whole situation in the only way available was so strong he later wondered what had kept them open after all. Stubbornness, maybe. Or spite. Or both.

Mick stretched out his hand and hitched up Vince’s pants until he could freely reach them. Then he turned around and left the room. Physically, because contempt – or, far worse, pity, - in his icy gaze haunted Vince for the rest of the night.

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wendronwitch · 5 years ago

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a lot of people have expressed annoyance at syrah’s arc in canon, and i feel like i might just be repeating things that @septimusheapheadcanons , @theheaps & other people have said but like. i wanna talk about that anyway

syrah’s really interesting and important i feel because of how significant her character is in syren, right from her entry. you have these 3 kids (yeah, they’re all very smart kids with official designations and whatnot but they’re still kids) stuck on an island, and septimus’s dragon is dying and he doesn’t know what to do, and then he sees this girl and we’ve witnessed enough sep POV to be able to assess that this is likely his first crush ever?? and she’s 19 but she’s also over 500 years old, and she knows a very particular type of magyk/alchemy that has been lost to time & that nobody else knows, and she saves spit fyre and shows septimus things he’s never seen before and like,

she’s so cool? and not to sound like a commerce student on here (lmao any commerce kids reading this bless y’all) but like..... she’s such a valuable human resource???

syrah likely knows things that marcia does not know. you know how there’s some point in some book (i think it’s darke????) where marcia and marcellus team up to keep the balance between light + darke magyk or whatevr it was called??? well?? syrah could probably have done that shit herself.

then there’s also the fact that when angie describes syrah, she mentions that she has “brown arms” or something, which she probably meant like tanned white girl or whatever but a lot of us decided to interpret as CANONICALLY BROWN GIRL SYRAH. idk it’s just really lovely (dont wanna add a link b’cause then this post will Not Show In Search but it’s on my blog under my #syrah syara tag, u wont have to look long)

septimus heap as a series is like. valued & cherished for its strong female characters, so given this, it’s like, angie really did our girl dirty. syrah’s so wise and well-informed, and she’s also incredibly mentally strong to have survived the syren that long and to have been coherent enough to give septimus that diary imo. she has so much trauma and whatnot but she is still so kind, and as a character she was so intriguing + focused on in syren, which was really nice and interesting to see.

and then??? in darke & in fyre?? nothing? not much??? she becomes as sidelined as someone like hildegarde pigeon

which. i mean. hildegarde doesn’t actually do anything you know? she’s very much a secondary character all through and that’s FINE. syrah was actually significant before angie went “yeah we don’t need her anymore” and demoted her, which is........ ouch.

syrah had so much potential to do things in both darke and fyre. she had a skillset unlike anyone else’s, and she was a genuinely good person. this entire ‘mental instability’ thing feels weird and infantilizing, and as someone who is mentally ill (not formally diagnosed but i am so depressed you can smell it on me, and i definitely need a therapist, more on that later) it also feels..... idk. weirdly wrong.

oh, so septimus can have a character development arc that fleshes out his trauma and his recovery and hints at his ptsd in a respectful way, but syrah’s just confined to hospital rooms and everyone treating her weirdly? make it make sense, please

#septimus heap #syrah syara #ok 2 rb #meta #long post

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pcktsprgrl · 6 years ago

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Annabelle's Diary (She Can Never know)

Pairings: annabelle parsons x mc

Rating: general

Published: 2/17/19

Disclaimer: the characters are not mine.

Author's notes: so Idk.. Just got the idea to write from annabelle's pov a bit.

My visits to edgewater have been quite different since Harry passed. Im not sure how much longer I can keep visiting and delaying a new engagement as my parents wish.

The Earl says I am welcome there all I like. Though even he has begun treating me slightly different.

~~~

Edgewater has never been such a buzz since.. Well since poor harry. I swear miss Sutton and miss bowman would not shut up about it. I suppose I should be thankful it is different from their usual drabble.

Though I scarcely can stand their constant gossip. Talk of the earl's "natural" daughter coming to edgewater is all anyone is talking about. I thought the countess might faint ! Well I sure hope she's more interesting than most of the ladies around here.

~~~~

I met her today I think. She was more beautiful than I expected. I ran right into her and she barely moved an inch. I could feel the heat rising within me. She bent to pick up my fan and when she stood her beautiful eyes nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

My hand lingered perhaps a bit too long. Her smile was as if the sun itself had shown upon me. She can never know. No one can.

~~~

Early morning with the ladies sewing circle was a positive bore. More gossip that I promptly tuned out as I worked on my bag. Of course they started on the earl's daughter as if being a few moments late were a criminal offense.

The room fell silent and i chanced a glance up. There she stood awkwardly fumbling for an excuse. My heart thudded loudly in my chest and i scarcely thought someone might hear. The countess snapped at her and made rude comments the entire time. Mostly directed at her upbringing, as if that means anything at all.

They asked her to play the pianoforte and it was obvious she had no idea how so I quickly volunteered. She smiled warmly at me and for a moment I could not breath.

As she accompanied me in song she shyly placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt as if I had left my body. The warmness of her hand radiated over me and tingles spread.

She called me beautiful and alluring, but I dare not dwell on such compliments. Im sure she hadn't meant it, or may think better of them soon. I wonder what it might have been like growing up where she was. Perhaps then we could be together. As if she would have any interest in me.

~~~~~~

I believe seeing her daily is a blessing and a curse. Today the Earl hosted a garden party in her honor. We escaped her latest admirer and ran down by the lake. I can't remember feeling so childlike and carefree in such a long time. She makes me feel as though the ducks I fed have taken flight in my abdomen, my head feels tingly like Ive had too much champagne and my heart sings anew. A beat only for her.

I hadn't realized we had gotten so close until her breath was on my skin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and my skin flushed.

She asked me to dance and i glanced around making sure I was not mistaken. It felt so perfect having her in my arms, like something from a fairytale. The song ended and so did the fairytale as the Earl announced her as his rightful heir.

I know this means she'll have to marry, probably one of these awful men that were at the party. I am not sure I can take being so close yet so far from her. Perhaps I should refrain from going to Edgewater.

~~~~

My family cannot seem to stop talking about the season in London. They seem determined I should find a match or risk the entire family's reputation. The thought of it makes me quite ill. None of these men make me feel much at all. Perhaps there is something wrong with me after all?

~~~

My heart both fell and soared when I found out Lady Clara would be joining us for the season in London. I fear what she may do If she finds out what's truly on my mind.

We arrived in London to find no escort to her town house. Typical Clara fashion she charged ahead. If there was a whole city at our feet why not explore it? She had said with a laugh eyes twinkling with mischief. She held her hands out wide and I could not seem to tear my eyes away. I feel as if I shall surely give myself away.

Yet another admirer was caught by her beauty as a prince's carriage nearly ran her down in the street. She stood tall and scolded him. I could almost tell what he was feeling because I feel it everytime she's near.

His gentle smile and deep bow made my stomach churn. She returned his smile and took his hand. At least he will be gentle and caring with her, if she chooses him.

~~~

What a bore! My family constantly going on about potential suitors. How they'll find me the best match yet. Then they come up with the Viscount? What does that say about me?

A man, older than my grandfather , looking for wife number five, is really my perfect match.

They scoff and scold me for not taking this more seriously, but how can I? When my heart belongs elsewhere. If only Harry hadn't passed. At least he understood.

~~~

She said the most remarkable thing today as we tried on gowns. If only we could be married. I scarcely knew what to say. She looked so stunning in her gown for the theater. When she turned and asked me to help her out of the dress she has chosen.

I stared unmoving as she moved her hair looking over her shoulder at it. Slowly I began unbuttoning her dress, down the length of her spin. My mind wandered where it ought not and my fingers slowly grazed her skin. Goose flesh arose and I swear her breath hitched. I dare not think of this longer.

~~~~

How unfortunate the Viscount caught us going into the theater! Duke Richards was there as well being as vile as ever.

I knew Lady Clara was growing more uncomfortable the longer the play went on. I didn't find out until intermission the true nature of her discomfort. We switched seats though she worried he may try something on me. I wished I could throw him from the balcony.

We sat in silence as the play resumed. Duke Richards scowling and lady Clara glancing towards me. I nearly jumped from my skin as her fingers grazed my own. Her pinky interlocking with mine. I got lost in the sensation.

Sadly the night ended and I was forced to go with the Viscount as she went with the Duke. I pressed myself close to the far corner of the Viscounts carriage and fairly leaped out as it approached my home.

~~~~

The Dowager Countess came to London. Accusations of Lady Clara's impropriety and a whole new set of rules. I know its countess henriettas doing. That woman will stop at nothing to secure Edgewater as her own. She claims its for her son but we all know the truth.

Lady Clara let me paint her today. At last a reasonable excuse to stare at her lovely features. Committing every curve of her face to memory. She made it all the more difficult with her sultry gaze and flirty comments.

I suggested miniatures for all her suitors. She said she wished me to have one and I know my face beamed a cherry red.

~~~~

The races were a bore. Viscount Westonly breathing on me made me ill. Though watching the men fawn over Lady Clara made it all worse.

I grow weary of this game of prestige and position. Back biting and scheming. If only we could run away. Escape to a different life, perhaps in the tiny village she grew up in. I think we could be happy there. If I could just find it in me to speak my true feelings.

~~~~

How distressing it was to hear of The Earls passing. Yet another death in such a short time. I can only imagine how poor Lady Clara must feel having only just lost her mother. The funeral is tomorrow perhaps then I may have a chance to comfort her.

~~~

How shameful the way people act. Though I should not have expected anything less. First the countess chased Lady Clara from her seat in the sanctuary, then Miss Sutton and Miss Bowman find the need to gossip about her choice of dresses.

We went into the Earl's study some time during the gathering and painted a portrait to honor him. My heart nearly beat from my chest as we stood together. She bent kissing my wrist and I lost all ability to speak.

I think she meant to kiss me elsewhere had Miss Bowman not come bursting throw the door. The moment was lost and we solemnly made our way back to the rest of the gathering.

~~~~

This new found jealousy threatens to consume me. I watch her as she smiles and laughs. Prince Hamid grins at her and she takes his arm as they twirl around the dance floor.

I had hoped once she convinced me to tell the Viscount no to his proposal that we could be together. I know its impossible. The time is short I fear. I have no doubt she will find a suitable match.

~~~~

I do not know where to start with the nights events. The ball at Duke Richards was to be the final of the season. I knew she'd be there but I was not prepared for how stunning she looked.

She danced and chatted with almost every eligible bachelor in the place. I had scarcely believed she would have time for me. Yet there she sat shyly smiling at me as I played on the pianoforte.

We stole away later that night. She claimed there was something real important we must discuss. I knew it had to do with her father's will so I steeled myself for the worst.

I have had the best proposal! She squealed excitedly. My heart sank but I was determined to be happy for her. So I smiled and told her as much.

She studied my face a while then proudly announced it was to be Mr Chambers. Before I had a chance to think better of it I was on one knee before her. She stared at me mouth slightly opened.

We had our first kiss after that. It was all a blur. Her body pressed firmly against me, hands exploring. Her lips were so unbelievably soft. Better than I had even dared to dream.

Yet how could I go from the highest emotion to the lowest? We marched into the ballroom ready to make the announcement when Dowager Countess was dragging Lady Clara to the center of the room.

I felt sick in the pit of my stomach as the announcement was made Lady Clara was to merry to Duke. That vile awful man, how could Dowager Countess ever think he could make a good match for my precious Lady Clara?

I wanted so badly to lash out. Instead I quietly disappeared into the background. She claims we'll be ok, but I am not so sure. Looking at her poor sad eyes I felt compelled to at least agree. Sure. Maybe in another life. In another time. Until then my heart will break as I put on my best ladylike facade. If for nothing else but for her.

#annabelle x mc #annabelle parsons #desire and decorum #choices fic #long post

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