#it makes me want to shrivel up and die so i never have to wear clothes

[scaryspears]

Bi Han x Bimbo Reader

"I need to die looking good."

This is for chickensandwich69

Warning: Bi Han is sexist (and a bit of a d*ck), and mild sexual flirting but nothing explicit.

She has priorities.

She wasn't fighting for Earthrealm, nor did she have any interest in fighting for Shao Kahn. She was in it for herself, blindsided and forced to compete, but making the most of what she could enjoy out of it.

And that was something Bi Han could respect, even though her motivations weren't. Spending time with friends, shopping, getting her hair and makeup done, and scoring herself a romantic companion.

The She/Her in question is you. You were a ballerina, a gymnast, a cheerleader, pageant Queen. It was clear competition is in your blood, so the tournament was a walk in the park for you. The fighting part, anyway. Seeing you freak out over blood was another matter.

"Do you want me to massage your hair?" you asked him, a cheeky smile on your face. He nodded, and you did as you offered.

Seeing Bi Han's face was a luxury, and you would do anything to see it as long as you could, even though you didn't mind him with his mask. You liked being the one that gets pampered, but you would make an exception for Bi Han.

He questions how it came to this, all the time.

Maybe it's your Chaosrealm blood. Nothing made sense around you but it came naturally. It happened out of nowhere. First, you're watching him train with Cyrax. Second, you're following him and yapping your mouth off. Third, he ends up doing something very intimate with you and he's wearing less clothes. And it involves his mouth and lower region.

Your relationship wasn't much of a secret, considering you were seen hugging his arm if you were both in the same room or area, but not enough lived to know it as fact. With the tournament and all. Or just in general. Bi Han saw competition in their gazes, which meant jealousy. Which meant lots of ice and blood during fights. Thankfully you were too dumb to figure it out, because blood upset you a lot, and you had only started making an exception for the tournament.

"What else would you like me to do?" you were sitting on his lap now, something in your eyes. Pretty obvious what you were feeling.

Oh yeah, that's why. There was no way he would resist this.

Bi Han may be a Lin Kuei assassin, and one that takes his profession very seriously, but he could enjoy a good lady himself. You had just broken up with your boyfriend so it felt like a fitting decision to take your attention while it was still available to him. So long as you were his no one else could have it.

Companions were not common within the clan, and you were an excellent fighter. Sure, there were the cultural differences and the clash of personalities, but if the Lin Kuei were to ever find out it would be unbelievable, so it was a right decision.

You desired him and he desired you, it worked both ways. Both of you were being selfish, he was certain, but you initiated so he had no reason to care about your feelings.

[Noob Saibot]

He grew more possessive of you, and that possession followed him when he died. Before he would freeze any man that flirted with you, these days he killed them. You were distraught when Bi Han died, but you weren't sure what to make of his new self. It was still Bi Han, but he was Goth now and you've never been with a Goth before. You were determined to try something new, however, so you kept going on with the relationship.

You didn't understand his new found problems with his brother or where his bizarre mindset came from, but your main concern was matching with your boyfriend, so you had a bunch of black designer dresses lined up in your wardrobe.

"I guess Goth isn't a phase." you said to yourself. Then again, your parents thought you were a phase.

Bi Han gently brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your cheek, even though his skin wasn't as soft as it originally was, which meant his lips were almost shrivelled into his skull. It would only be fair if you were dead as well, that way he wouldn't feel left out from lack of lips.

"Where is your fear?"

"I think I left it in my purse."

"We will find it."

You had only started getting used to his new odd way of showing his affection, but it still made your insides all fluttery. You kissed him sweetly. Your lip gloss stained on his 'lips', and Bi Han didn't show any irritation, but there was the pride she recognised. It wasn't often he gave an expression since his change.

[necrotic-nephilim]

i think it's funnier if tim still views the relationship in a detached way bc he's doing this to keep bruce stable but bruce starts getting attached and calling tim things like sweetheart and ducky

and then bruce realizes that tim doesn't really return those feelings and has a breakdown

(based on my tags on this post) oooh, that *is* fun, actually. i love your brain. i'm so enamored by BruTim being such an emotionally complex relationship that doesn't hold the typical love you associate with BruDick or BruJay.

especially because you expect *Bruce* to be the clinically detached one. he's the one who sucks at his emotions and sucks even more at showing them. even when he loves someone, he's not going to process it well. he's going to make a mess of everything. so for him to express so much positive emotion towards Tim with petnames that are *just* on the cusp of romantic, like sweetheart and ducky. they *could* be casual, they hover right on the edge of sweet nothings to real emotion. it gives Bruce plausible deniability when DIck hears one of the petnames and squints at Bruce from across the room, trying to decide if he's going to do anything about it.

but for Tim. for Tim all of this is a job, and not even one he plans to hold onto for long. sure, Tim cares about Bruce, but i think fanon has really twisted around just how much Tim cares. this isn't a familial bond, it's a workplace one. Tim doesn't want Bruce to replace his parents, even when they die. he doesn't want to get too close to Bruce and lose sight of himself. it's a careful balance, helping Bruce and being there for him while setting his own clear boundaries about were this ends. and the sex of it all, when Tim realizes that being Robin includes *that*, is also just the job. maybe Tim enjoys the sex, maybe he's detached from it (i think it's fun if Bruce can't figure out which and is gaslighting himself in both directions bc he doesn't know if he wants to torture himself with knowing he can't stay away from a boy who doesn't want him or if he wants to live in the fantasy that this is something real) in the same way he is Robin. he puts everything into it, but emotionally, Tim still holds himself at a distance. he'll initiate sex with Bruce needs it, he'll enjoy the bodily sensations and *maybe* even the thrill of getting attention from an older man. but Tim isn't the type of person to fall in love with Bruce like Dick is. Tim wants to have a normal life by the time he's in his 20s, and there's a planned obsolescence in his role as Robin.

so when Bruce starts dropping the pet names in, maybe even by accident first. pet names are expected in sex. the first time Bruce calls Tim 'sweetheart' is while fucking him and Tim doesn't think twice about it. it slips out in aftercare too and Bruce keeps pushing and pushing until he wears Tim down to getting used to them in casual conversation. the first few times Tim gave Bruce a sour look but now he just sighs, if he reacts at all. he lets Bruce press a gentle kiss to his forehead and call him sweetheart when they're alone in the cave. it's so casual. "pass me that file, sweetheart" or "when are you going home, love?" and even "good job, ducky" which is the real kicker, bc Bruce will shrivel away before giving anyone honest praise for their work that doesn't come with strings attached. and every time, Bruce is expecting, *hoping* for a smile from Tim. a shared pet name for Bruce, a soft look, anything to indicate a romantic fondness. he convinces himself Tim is just shy. it takes time for Tim to open up sometimes and Bruce isn't going to rush this.

but when every night, without fail, Tim always leaves Bruce bed after sex to go him and sleep in his own manor. when he never pulls away from Bruce's romantic touch but doesn't lean into it either, it's forced to click for Bruce. and i think him having a breakdown is so fun about it. bc he can have *anyone*. he had the unwavering adoration of the past two Robins who loved him without condition. everyone is in love with Bruce Wayne or Batman. except *Tim*. Tim who *asked* for this role and because of that treated it like a job, not a gift. Bruce gave Robin to Dick and Jason. he chose them. but he didn't choose Tim and somehow, it's the tease of someone unobtainable that breaks Bruce.

i love the thought of Bruce, maybe under influence of truth serum or some sort of psychoactive drug breaking down into tears while Tim is taking care of him and tending to his wounds. and Bruce has his head in Tim's lap, looking up at Tim with more emotional vulnerability than he's shown *anyone*, rambling about love and feelings. most of it isn't coherent, but Tim understands. and somehow it's worse that there's no cruelty in Tim's eyes, but only *pity*. he stays the night, for *once*, but he's doing it out of pity. he's letting Bruce hold him because it's what Bruce needs, and Tim is just doing his job.

(Bruce holds onto the moment greedily anyway, bc he'll take what he can get and if emotional manipulation is what's needed to get Tim to stay the night and whisper soothing things to him that almost sound like love, then Bruce will definitely file that information way to use later. he'll break Tim down sooner or later, even if it's not a conscious effort. it's just how Bruce is and what he can't stop himself from doing. after all the good he's done, is he not allowed to be selfish in these rare vulnerable hours?)

[streamdotpng]

I want Hermit Enid to see what could have been in the streamer Au, to see what she could have had if it wasn't for her brother.

You cruel cruel anon

It starts with enid waking up

Theres a smell in the room, of something fond, of something enid hasnt smelt in so long. It scratches under her eyes, biting and toxic.

Wednesday?

Enid cracks open her eyes, squinting through the dimmed shadows of.. Her room?

No, that's wrong.

The werewolf rolls over and braces herself against the floor, her heart drumming. Where is she?

Her fingers touch a furry carpet, a very bright pink carpet and god how long has it been since enid has been smacked with such vibrancy?

Not since four or so years ago, thats for sure.

Enid props herself up, looking around in a confused wonder. Squinting at the fairylights around the ceiling and gawking at the rather interesting amount of taxidermy hanging along the walls.

Is that a deer skull??

Did she break into wednesday's house? It'd explain the smell but.. How did she get here? The wolf knew she had a rather rough night the evening before but this badly?

"Enid?" a voice calls out from behind the door, so soft and so- "are you awake?"

Its Wednesday.

Okay, so she was welcomed here.

Enid's shoulder's relaxed as she padded across the floor but just as her fingers brushed against the door handle, she froze.

There was a band along her ring finger. A glimmering white gold.

Enid doesn't wear jewerlly, she couldnt bear to wear rings ever since..

"enid?" wednesday calls out, her voice rising to what could almost be concern.

Ever since wednesday's wedding day.

"are you going to open the door or am i going to be stuck holding the food?" wednesday's dead drawl knocked the wolf back to her senses and so she opens the door to a woman she hasnt seen in years.

She's wednesday, is all enid can think about.

Beautiful, lovely Wednesday. All freckled skin, raised brow and holding food in a tray like mentioned.

Call it autopilot or enid always been one to please but she cant help but stumbled back to make way for a coffee sipping wednesday.

She looks absolutely comfy, dressed in her batman pajama pants and buttoned shortsleeve.

Enid looks down at her spiderman themed bottoms and cant help but blink in wonder.

Just.. What is happening?

"dear?" wednesday calls out.

It takes a while for enid to realize that it was her wednesday was calling for. When it registers, enid's eyes immediately snaps to wednesday in shock.

"dear?" she murmurs. Dear? Wednesday would never call her dear.

What is she talking about? Wednesday used petnames once in a while. Shes a sweetheart!

Wednesday tilts her head to the desk, where some scrumptious looking food lays. "are you not going to eat?"

"food, right right-" enid says, like she totally understands what she's saying before the rest of her words proceeds to die in her mouth as her eyes catch sight of a matching ring along wednesday's finger.

Oh.

Immediately, all enid's questions were answered and an indescribable feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

Its one of those times.

"im sorry, dearest," enid murmurs, like she truly was dear to the Wednesday Addams Sinclair. She walks up to wednesday, her hands just about hovering above her back as she leads her dearest down to her chair. "im just having a rough morning is all."

Wednesday doesn't look surprised as she looks up to the werewolf but her face twists to something so caring that it shrivels up any words enid could say.

Her hands are so cold as they hold onto enid's face. Cold yet grounding, truly a way to describe wednesday.

"its okay," wednesday says and enid blinks, realizing that maybe she does miss her bestfriend a bit more than she should. "do you want me to message the team that we are sick?"

"we?" enid wheezes, her throat so dry at just how much everything is right now. There's a tear sliding down her face and wednesday is wiping it away and ohmygo-

Wednesday's face doesnt change as continues to hold enid like she's the most precious thing in the world "yes, we."

The emphasis nearly makes enid sob right then and there.

"we are married, enid-" and there enid goes, crying because oh does she wish that was true. "we are a team. We always have been."

It settles with enid hugging wednesday, her hands heavy as she just about tries to weld them together.

If only.

Enid wakes up to an ache in her chest.

She wakes up to the smell of dust clinging onto her walls and the careful whirring of her fan.

She wakes up alone.

Enid doesnt get up, instead she grabs at her blanket and tucks herself deeper into her cold bed.

Its too early for this.

Or, if you mean enid knowings that theres a reality out there where if her twin didnt exist she and wednesdsy coudlve been together? You bet enid is bitter. Bitter and hateful and so angry

But after all that is done brewing deep in her heart, enid will be left with a painful wonder of "why not in this universe?"

[konigsblog]

https://www.tumblr.com/melodygatesauthor/725102290548211712/types-of-yandere

based on this post, which type of yandere do you think the 141 + los vaqueros + könig are?

cod mw2 men yandere types

// manipulation, gaslighting, guilt tripping, just toxic behaviour

ghost is an overprotective. he has nobody to love him, yet his eyes have been wandering all over you from afar, stalking you and making you feel uneasy when left alone, snatching you up to have someone to love and protect, just like he's always wanted. he'll occasionally hold you, shushing you and not letting you make a sound as you sob, silent tears falling as he silences you.

price is a mixture of manipulative and overprotective, like ghost; he wants the best for you, what comes with that is being locked away in his dirty, dusty basement far away from society, manipulating you into believing that what he's doing is alright, and that you should be more grateful. his goal is to see you broken down, so he can re-build you back up again and have it benefit him in every way, becoming a slave to the man who was once your superior.

soap is a sadist, he's nothing like the man you once knew... his chatty, humourous and extroverted personality twisted into something evil and cruel, something that makes you shrivel up on the inside and causes tears to form in your waterline as he burns your hair. it's the thrill of seeing your shocked and terrified expressions, feeling the flame touch your scalp before he blows it away, slowly destroying you physically as he wears you down with his painful punishments.

gaz; personally, i view kyle as a self-indulgent yandere since i stated that again, like the other characters, he guilt trips you for his own personal use. he'll cry into your chest as you thrash beneath him, 'til you seccumb and forgive him, his actions only repeating as he never learns. he'll always make you feel worthless and useless, telling you that you're nothing without him - that you have to praise and worship him like a god because he's saved you from the evil that roams this earth.

könig, he's a mixture of delusional, overprotective and manipulative - i stated a few weeks back that könig manipulates and gaslights people to get his own way, and you're no exception. he adores how you curl into a ball as he towers over you, feeling guilty yet powerful when you're intimidated and terrified of the figure looming above. you don't understand how what he's doing is for the best; that your body was morphed and made for him, built for him to use and love.

i view alejandro as a possessive yandere, the reasoning being that alejandro reminds me of a jealous person; doesn't like when something goes wrong, especially if it's with the people he loves, including you. he has to keep you away from the rest of this cruel and unforgiving world, who'd ruin you, destroy you. having you beside him, weeping and sobbing, feeling his hands wander as he spoons you, scolding you for squirming too much.

rudy is an obsessive. i personally feel as if he can't get enough of you, like he'll die without having you in his arms. since i view him as a soft dom, i feel as if he'd be patient and understanding with you, yet chaining you to him so you're unable to move without asking him. in a way, he likes knowing you have to depend on him for everything, asking him to let you go to the bathroom or the kitchen makes him feel powerful, like an ego boost as he has to become your carer, your one and only forever.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#344

“Get comfortable.  I just checked the weather; we are going to be here at least for tonight.  There is no way that a tow truck is going to make it to your car in time before the next storm hits.  No one is going to risk their own safety on these muddy roads so that you can get back to the city.  Really it was a stupid thing to do to go on a mountain drive right before a storm—on unfamiliar backwoods dirt roads to boot.  You are just lucky that I was coming back with my winter supplies when I saw you.  You are going to be here for the night, probably two or three….

“Even if I were to take you back into town, you still wouldn’t be able to get your car out in the same amount of time, and then I would be stuck in the city.  Naa.  This is the best.  Go ahead and get out of those wet clothes and throw them in the dryer behind you alongside my wet shirt and jacket.  You can leave your undies on if you want.

“Look, I grew up in a two-bedroom house with three brothers.  I spent 8 years in the Marine Corps.  I have seen hundreds if not thousands of naked men.  Nothing you have… or lack… will surprise me….

“…Jesus fuck!  I spoke too soon.  A hot pink thong?  Are you serious?  Even the fags I know wouldn’t wear something so pathetic.  Did you actually pay money for that?...  Your wife?  Figured.  I can’t fucking stand looking at them.  Take it off.  Now!

“I’ve seen naked men before.  If you weren’t here, I would be walking around this place and my property naked.  In fact, let me get out of these overalls right here.  I don’t wear stupid ass thongs like that.  I don’t wear underwear at all.  Two clips undone and… you get to see Tank here. 

“Now off with that stupid thong. 

“Look I’m 6 foot 7 inches and weigh three hundred fifty pounds.  I have over a foot on your height, and I am way more than double your weight.  You are no fucking match for me.  That’s it.  You look terrified.  Good….

“I don’t know what you were worried about.  You got a decent body.  Your dick is all shriveled up.  It can’t be from the cold outside or most likely from being terrified.

“Tank here never experiences shrinkage.  That’s because he’s fucking huge.  It may look normal size, but hanging here on a big guy like me, but trust me when he gets hard, angry hard, he can push over nine inches long and seven and a half around.  Wanna feel a real man’s cock?...  I know you do.  I can see you thinking….

“…No no no.  Get the fuck back here….  You ain’t going anywhere little man.  You are so easy to throw around or down to the floor in this case.  Pathetic.  All I have to do is shift my weight to my right foot on your chest and I will crush you like a bug.

“Let me fill you in on your situation.  You are 30 minutes from town in the middle of nowhere, there’s a cold storm coming in which might even bring us snow, and my nearest neighbor is Deputy Schmidt one mile away. 

“Look up at me!  If you run, you will get lost, you will freeze, and you will die.  And if you think of running to Schmidt, know this, he’s one mile away by way of an obscure snowmobile trail.  But don’t worry, he’ll be by in a few minutes.  When you went back to your car to get some things, I texted him that I have a night guest he might want to meet.  And if you think I’m intense, there’s nothing like a thirty-two-year veteran of the police force with anger issues and a dick to match….

“…No before you think I have reception, no I don’t.  I did near your car though.  Up here, there’s no reception, no internet, no telephone lines.  We are out in the middle of nowhere detached from humanity.  Just you, me,… and Tank here. 

“Good ol’ Tank.  He’s happy to see a helpless you on the floor looking up at him.  He’s really excited to see you.  Look at his pre-cum.  Tank likes to leak when he sees a new faggot.

“Aw shut the fuck up.  I don’t care that you have a wife or a girlfriend,… or even both…. 100% straight?  Hunh.  Really?  I think we both know that when you finally leave here, you won’t be able to say that.  Tank here is going to smash your cherry. 

“Don’t fucking move.  I want to see if the drop from Tank’s leak will land on your face…. Right on your upper lip!  Go ahead and lick it!...  I said ‘Lick it bitch.’  Fuck yeah!

“You ready to give Tank your pussy?  ‘Cause he’s ready to turn that puss into a cunt.  I’m going to lift my foot up.  Then I want you to stand up and take a moment to catch your breath.  Then I want to bend over this kitchen table and present your pussy for me.

“…Bend over.  Ahh, there it is, that moment you accept the inevitable and just give up….  Now pull apart those cheeks….  That’s one pretty pussy.  Too bad I have to ruin it.  Now beg me to fuck you.  I want to hear your depraved hunger for me to destroy your pussy.  Beg!

“You can do better than that.  If you convince me you want me to take your cherry with your pathetic begging, I’ll put some lube on my dick.  Otherwise Tank is going in dry.  Trust me, you don’t want Tank to rip up your dry pussy, and I don’t want your cherry blood all over my kitchen floor.  Now beg.

“…That’s better.  I don’t know if you ever stuck something up your cooch, but you want to push out as I go in.  Don’t worry.  I’m slathering Tank up with some Crisco.  Tank is ready to shoot and he ain’t even in yet.

“Keep pushing out.  Here comes Tank.  Scream mother fucker.  No one will hear you.  Oh man, does your cherry feel good strangling my cock.  Your second sphincter is massaging Tank’s tip in all the right ways.  It’s not going to take me long.

“Struggle all you want; you ain’t going anywhere.  Keep screaming.  You should find it more difficult with me laying on your back pounding your cunt’s insides.  It’s hard to get a breath in, hunh?  Hell, with my arm sliding under your neck, it’s easy to cut off your air by applying pressure to both sides with my bicep and forearm.  It’s going to get very difficult to breathe very fast. 

“You fight back on instinct, but you won’t win.  I can feel your struggle as your cunt tightens up and spasms uncontrollably.  That’s so fucking hot.  Tank is close.  Oh fuck.  Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.  I’m gonna fucking cum.  Fuck!  Fuck! Fuck!...  Jesus!

“No, I know you are struggling to breathe.  That’s what I want., what I still want.  I plan on going all night.  When you lose consciousness, then I will take Tank out of you.  Don’t worry.  My arm will replace it.  Fisting is a lot easier on an unconscious cunt than one that is fully aware.

“This is only the beginning.  Oh there you go.  Good night.  Sleep, not so tight.

“Fuck.  Where did that Crisco go?”

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Four (Part 2)

We meet Claire’s friends in the upstairs lounge of a swanky bar on George’s Street. I never came to these kinds of places while I was still the going-out type, mainly because they were too expensive, but also because Marnie and Fiona would have disapproved. 

“The girls who go into bars like that,” Marnie had said to me before, “Are the same kinds of girls who, like, know about the Kardashians and wear peplum tops,” She was talking about Claire, really, because she liked to prod her fingers around in the distasteful fact that I was friends with someone so completely opposite to the way that she was, and as I recall the memory I realise guiltily that Claire is wearing a peplum top tonight. As I watch her strut towards the bar to buy cocktails for the table I feel bad. I never agreed with Marnie, but I never defended Claire either, but it was just like that back then, I don’t think I ever really said much of anything to rock the boat. 

“Your hair is lovely,” Jaz says to me into the dead space that accompanies the loss of our person-in-common. “It’s gotten really long since I saw you last.”

“Hm. Yeah,” I wind a strand of it around a finger, “I suppose it’s been a good while since we’ve hung out.” I’m not sure that we ever really hung out though. Jaz and Serena were often in the apartment but I’m having trouble recalling a single time when we actually sat and had a conversation.

She says something else that I can’t hear. The music is loud and thumping, but I don’t bother asking her to repeat it, so I just smile and nod, which seems good enough for her. She and Serena want to talk to each other anyway, and that’s what they do until Claire returns. I stare out the window over the roofs of Georgian Dublin and think about Jude and what he’s doing and how I wish I was in Berlin instead. 

When the barman comes to whisk away our empty glasses Serena stops him and offers to buy the next round. 

“No thanks,” I say, “I think that one is enough,” And I mean it, because the last one was too sweet and too strong and cost an eye-watering seventeen euro that I’ll never get back.

“Oh, go on,” She says, “We’re all having one.”

“No, seriously, it’s fine, I’m actually grand.”

“I can get it. On me?”

“No, it’s-” I clear my throat uncomfortably, “I’m trying not to drink that much honestly, I got a really bad hangover when we were in Cyprus and it’s kind of put me off.”

“I can get you a pint of water too?”

“Maybe a water without the cocktail, though.” 

She shrugs, “Alright,” though she’s not acting like it’s alright. She’s acting like not wanting to drink is a really weird thing to want to do which kind of makes me want to shrivel up and die. 

“Are you kind of gone off drinking?” She queries once she’s ordered, “I just remember before you loved going out and stuff.”

“Yeah I went out a lot at one stage, I suppose, but I don’t really do it that much anymore.”

“I just remember,” She grins and nudges Jaz, “That time that we were over at Shane’s old house for a party and you showed up really late and then immediately fell asleep in the bath.”

“Oh yeah!” Jaz says, “It was so funny, everyone was bursting to go to the toilet and we couldn’t get in or wake you, do you remember Claire, we were banging on the door for ages, and then one of the lads had to go in the bushes outside!”

Claire grimaces, “Yeah, kind of.”

I am horrified. I don’t remember that at all. I remember being invited to Shane’s birthday party and that I spent half the evening in some dingy bar in Phibsborough with my college friends beforehand, but I had no idea that I had passed out in the bath for any period of time. I’m so embarrassed that I don’t know what to say. 

“Oh,” I say, “Yeah I think I remember that, that was pretty stupid I suppose.”

Claire jumps in quickly, “It wasn’t stupid, it was fine, I think you were just, well, I don’t know. Nobody cared that much, it was just a funny thing that happened. Serena, I didn’t hear when you ordered, which cocktail did you get for me this time?”

I sink into the cushioned seats in the booth and stare down at my legs because it’s easier than looking at anything else. God, I think, I’m so fucking stupid. Nobody else does stupid things in the same way that I do. I can’t believe that I’ve even done stupid things that I can’t remember, things that other people probably talk about when I’m not there. I sit consumed in the anxiety of it, imagining the extent of the horrors of what those things might conceivably be. Claire reaches out and subtly squeezes my hand and it is warm and steady, and she shows me that it doesn’t matter, or at least that she never cared about it in the first place. 

I eventually do have another drink, then another, mainly because I can’t stop thinking of myself passing out in what I’ve now decided was a dirty bathtub, because it had to be. Shane lived with three boys and none of them ever cleaned up, so the chances of the bath having been scrubbed before I climbed into it is pretty close to nil. I like the feeling of being a bit drunk anyway, I always have, even when I was fourteen and sampling beer for the first time in some rural field it was something to lose myself in. When I’m drunk, for at least some period of time I’m not preoccupied with myself and the ways that I come across and whether the things I am saying are sufficiently interesting. In fact I don’t really think about the things I’m saying at all, which is liberating, even when Claire gently tells me that I am shouting a bit, which I’m not, I’m just being enthusiastic. 

When Jaz comes back from the bathroom she tells us that there was a girl in the stall doing a bump of cocaine off her fingernail. She says this as though it’s juicy and scandalous, which I remind her that it is not, because she lives in Dublin, and probably everybody is doing cocaine anyway, but this makes her a bit defensive. 

“I don’t do cocaine,” She says, “And I’ve never done it, I’ve never even seen it before now, so maybe you’re talking about a different kind of person to the ones I know.”

“You haven’t seen it because you haven’t been in the right places then,” I say, and try not to worry that she’s beginning to swim around in my vision like I’m viewing her through a tank at an aquarium. “Everyone is. Well, most people.”

She pats Serena’s knee, “Are you?”

“No, and I guarantee that Claire isn’t either. Why would any of us do something like that?”

“I suppose people find it a bit fun,” I shrug, which is probably the wrong thing to say because she scrutinises me. “Do you take it?”

“No,” I say, “Although, yes, once I did.”

“Up your nose?”

“Yeah.” Obviously. Where else did she think I put it?

Claire’s mouth drops open, “When?”

I wave my hand about vaguely, “Oh, ages ago, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter really.”

Jaz’s eyes are saucers, “What was it like?”

“Weird. It burned a bit, I suppose. It was really good for maybe ten minutes and then it was the worst thing ever. I never wanted to do it again after that.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. From a girl in my class, maybe, like it said it was ages ago.”

“Evie!” Claire is scandalised, “What would your mother say to this?”

“Nothing because she’ll never know about it,” I have the sudden urge to pee and raise myself onto unsteady feet, “Nobody actually probably would need to know about it. It’s a boring thing that happened to me ages ago and I don’t care about it anymore.”

“I think that’s mad,” says Serena, “But honestly out of all of us I’d have said you’re the most likely to do something like that.”

I paw around the booth for my phone which has become wedged between two seat cushions. “Would you have?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why though.”

“Is it because I seem a bit unhinged?”

Claire laughs uncomfortably, “You don’t.”

“It’s alright, I am a bit unhinged, I think,” I force a loose, easy laugh, and I see Serena grin, but I can’t tell anymore if I’ve made things weird by saying that. “There’s like, probably something wrong with me, but,” I throw up a peace sign, “In a cute way. Where’s the toilet?”

They tell me to go downstairs and I do, only to find a queue snaking out the door. I sigh deeply and join it, slumping heavily against the wall. I look at the glaringly bright screen of my phone to discover no new messages from Jude, which bothers me, so with heavy, lumpen thumbs I try to compose a message. 

“Hey!” I exclaim as a passerby is shoved in my direction and bounces against my arm. 

“Sorry about that,” they say, “Crowded.”

“Yeah.” And I glance up for a split second only to feel my blood turn cold, but it’s a false alarm. It always is, and it’s never him. I invent him, I see him everywhere, all of the time. He’s the jumbled face in the crowd, the man on the bus with his back to me who will turn his head and have me flood with relief, because it’s a stranger instead. I’m drunk now, I’m making things up, and I know that if I squeeze my eyes tightly and think of something else I’ll realise that this is just some kind of strange hallucination, a manifestation of my anxiety, and he will be another stranger in another bar. 

Expect this time he is real.

“Oh, it’s you, Evie.”

I don’t even know what to say. I’m dumbfounded. Dean looks awful. Hair longer than it’s ever been, lank and greasy, tucked behind his ears and his face is a grey mask, bloodshot eyes sporting dark circles beneath them punctuated with broken blood vessels. He’s not well. I clench my teeth and I don’t say a word. 

He waves his hand around in front of my face, “Earth to Evie, is anyone home?”

I inhale sharply through my nose. “Hi.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you here. I don’t see you around at all anymore, actually I was starting to think that maybe you’d moved out of Dublin.”

“Oh.”

“Did you drop out of college?”

I stare at him and he breaks into this nauseating lopsided grin like he believes in some world that he’s a charming man, “Woah, you’re chatty tonight.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Well you’re looking well, you look healthy.”

“Mm.”

His smile falters, “Are you pissed off at me or something? Have I done something?”

I’m incredulous. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean like, you seem a bit annoyed at me or something, or am I after picking that up wrong?” Somebody shoves past him from behind to get to the stairs and he has the audacity to lean his arm against the wall behind me to steady himself. I outwardly shudder at the nearness of him. The smell of cigarettes from his clothes invades my nostrils and it’s familiar in a hideous way, making me feel as though throwing up wouldn’t be off the table. I shrink away from him as much as I can, but it’s crowded. There aren’t many places to go, so I cling to my phone like it’s a life raft, as though somehow I’ll be okay as long as I have it heating up in my palm. 

“Is that so?” I grit out. “Can’t really think of any reason why I might feel anything negative towards you.”

He sighs and shakes his head like this is all so silly, “Oh, come on like, I know that things went wrong but like, can we not be adults about it? Hook ups end all the time, I don’t know why you have to hold onto that, it’s not a big deal, it’s a pity you think we couldn’t be friends after the fact.”

I frown, “You think that we were just innocently hooking up and then it ended? That’s what you’re going to pretend was happening?”

“It’s grand, it just wasn’t a good match, we didn’t click, you know? I know that you’re young and you were a bit immature. You probably think something like that was a big deal, but it really wasn’t. That’s just how things are with adults, I thought we’d at least be normal around each other afterwards.”

“Are you serious? After everything that happened at-” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and feel my control of the situation sliding, “-at Marnie’s pool party, you-”

“Hm? What party?” His eyes do a slow tour of my face, “At Marnie’s house? Was I there? When was that again?”

“Are you messing?”

“No,” He looks genuinely lost, “When was that party? I dunno if I was there, was I?”

“Jesus, Dean.” I try to wriggle further away from him, but a girl in the queue shrugs me off when I get too close to her and traps me there. “You were there, and so were Marnie and Fiona,” I say their names pointedly, as I really don’t think I should have to explain, but I didn’t expect the nostalgic, contented look that crosses his features. “Oh, yeah, Fiona, the brunette, she was nice. You know I hooked up with her too at a different point? We had a thing there in like, first year, maybe, and like she wasn’t all weird about it after, she was mature and we were still mates until she dropped out of NCAD…”

He keeps going on, but I don’t hear him anymore after that. I’m grappling with a new realisation, something I never anticipated in all the times I imagined this. During any of the nightmares I had about running into this man again, this was never a feature. It almost makes me want to burst out laughing with the horrible absurdity of it.

He doesn’t remember what he did to me. 

He doesn’t remember the cruel things he said and did, it’s like it was all nothing. The things that wake me up at night and follow me around like a curse, cling to my psyche like glue, he can’t even recall what they are. That’s how little it all mattered to him. Actually, he thinks that I’m the one who is being unfair, he thinks that he’s the victim here, just because I’ve dared to be not-very-nice to him. 

“Sorry,” I say, cutting off his monologue, “Can you let me through? I have to go.”

“What?”

“Um, I just need to…” I try to keep the tremors from my voice as he stares at me, but I stare back, right into his blown out pupils, and say again, “Please, I don’t want to be rude, I just have to go.”

He looks annoyed, “Do you not want to talk to me or something?”

I hesitate, “Well, I dunno, I just-”

“Am I not being nice? I thought I was being nice to you, am I not?”

“Yeah you’re being nice.”

“So what? Do you think you’re too good to talk to me now?”

“No, I don’t think that.”

“I dunno what’s wrong with girls now,” He is ranting. “You can’t just go up and have a normal conversation anymore, like they get all offended if you even look them in the eye or try to say hi.”

“Well I don’t know anything about that, I just-”

“You seem like you’re too stuck up to talk to me.”

“I’m not, it’s, like, nice to see you, I just have to go, I actually feel sick and I think I might throw up,” It’s a lie, but there’s a brief moment where I’m convinced it may actually come true judging by the way my body recoils when I move closer to him to force my way around.

He takes his arm away from the wall and moves away from me, out of the landing zone in case I decide to bring up the last four drinks and the microwave lasagne I had for dinner. Immediately I hurry away, through the crowd and up the stairs, but I don’t miss the last thing he mutters to himself, or perhaps even intended for me as I pass him. 

“Stupid bitch.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[kayzero]

For the ideas wanted post, I always find people's different interpretations of how Quark functions after different endings in VLR so so interesting, since they're a character i've analyzed so so much. so a Quark-centric writing of them after one of the endings in which they're alive and get out?

This takes place during/after Luna END.

Weeks and months and years ago, when Quark was little, littler than he is now, he would sometimes wake up without Grandpa. He would panic, he would cry, he would be convinced that this was it, Grandpa finally got tired of having a little kid around, he’s gone and never coming back. And always, without fail, Grandpa would come back, see his sorry state, and calm him down, explaining that he just had to get an early start on work, and Quark looked too comfortable to disturb.

He grew out of that phase when he started helping Grandpa out with scavenging in earnest. He started to understand why it was so important that he get up early, get to the good stuff before anyone else. The memories fell to the back of his mind, like baby teeth from his mouth.

When Quark wakes up after being sedated in Rhizome-9, he knows for a fact that Grandpa is dead.

The surety comes from the same place that screams for freedom, howls at being chained up in this flesh prison where he could die at any moment. The visions he’d been having in the first round of the AB Game with Dio and Grandpa crop back up. He could be sliced with a scalpel, buried under trash, killed by a cultist — and even if he could avoid all the ugly, violent deaths, he couldn’t avoid death by sickness or old age.

But the sedative still floating around in his system combined with the shock of his Grandpa’s death make him numb, and let him see the tantrum he threw objectively — and it was a tantrum, albeit one over his very life instead of some toy he wanted — but more than that, it reminded him of something he had seen on the streets with Grandpa.

The people who got infected with Radical-6. The Cultists and the Damned. They ranted about the state of the world being divine judgement, that humanity would shrivel up and die out eventually, that there was no point in struggling because they would do it to themselves.

The Cultists grew in fervor, shifted to talking about the world that would rise from the rubble that the world was covered in. The Damned all ended up dead by their own hands.

Quark had almost joined them.

Might still. Grandpa’s dead, what’s the point?

Quark put his hands on the ground and pushed himself so that he was sitting against the wall instead of laying on the hard metal floor.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I didn’t wanna have to struggle to get you into this suit.”

He tilts his head up and sees Miss Phi, dressed in a spacesuit but missing the helmet. Looks at her with dead eyes that were still too alive because his body is still moving while his soul is screaming that Grandpa is dead—

He tries to tune out the howling. “Why do you want me to get in the suit, Miss Phi?”

“There’s some sort of pressure difference between this room and the outside world, and the suit’s what we need to survive it.”

“But what about the AB Game?”

The flinty, cool look Miss Phi usually wears gives way to something close to what the people Grandpa used to talk to wear when they look at him. Kinda sad, kinda frustrated.

“You’ve been asleep for a while. The AB Game’s over. We won.”

He doesn’t feel like a winner. He doesn’t say that out loud.

Instead he goes, “So you want to leave?”

“Yeah, and I have to bring you with me because you’re too young to be on your—“ She stops herself with wide eyes and a hand that stops halfway up to cover her mouth, because—

Because Miss Phi knows. She knows Grandpa is dead, she thinks that Quark doesn’t know, she doesn’t want to tell him (right now? ever?). The howling starts snarling at her now, his mind starts whirling with mean things and bad words to say to her, things he said when the adults wouldn’t let him—

Well. He doesn’t feel like being mean, but he doesn’t feel like being nice either. He settles for polite and factual.

“You know there’s nothing out there, right?”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

He doesn’t have a bracelet on, and Grandpa’s already dead, so nothing stops him from saying, “We’re on the moon.”

“…What?”

“We’re in a research base on the moon. Grandpa told me before we got on the ship. But the pilot knocked us out, so it was probably a one-way trip.”

As he talks, Miss Phi backs up until her back hits the wall, slowly sliding down until she’s sitting on the floor like he is. She doesn’t move, except to wrap her arms around her shins and bury her face into the collar of the space suit.

They stay like that for a while.

[dalmascan-requiem]

Dalmascan Requiem Moments: Carnations

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Sometimes, the best memories consist of the little things. And also swindling a merchant.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

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It's not the most obvious thing, but both of the boys wear a carnation earring, and it's something they both treasure very deeply. I had to sit down and just write how they got them really quick :)

Also, it makes for a nice story for Valentine's Day! Not that it happened during the FFXIV equivalent, but it's a sweet, romantic fic.

(I have a fic for Valentione's from last year!)

"You! Ma'am, yes, you! Over here!"

Gale chuckles inwardly as he turns towards the merchant. While Viera weren't the most uncommon sight in Dalmasca, many had trouble telling male from female--a fact he's used many times to his advantage--though he hadn't planned on doing so today. I wasn't going to buy anything… but maybe I can weasel a deal out of this man. He seems less than observant.

The merchant's eyes light up when Gale gives him an amused, inquisitive glance. "Ah yes! Come over, please!" The Hyur waves him over, and practically tugs Gale into the stall when he gets within arms' reach. "You, young miss, seem the type that would appreciate some lovely flowers."

"You've guessed correctly, sir." Gale quickly scans over the man's flowers. Quite a selection, I suppose. "But we are in the middle of a desert. How did you stop them from withering?"

"A very good question, miss." The merchant's smile falters slightly. Does no one ever ask him that? It would seem an obvious question to me. Or is he that poor a liar? "These blooms have traveled with me all across the Far East, and never once did a single petal shrivel up! With proper care, you can even grow them in the desert. I'm sure of it."

Gale looks over the flowers once again, before clicking his tongue. "No, I don't think I believe you, sir." Before the merchant objects, he picks up a bright bloom and lightly touches its leaves. "These flowers are already becoming sunburnt, it shows on the leaves. They're by no means a flower you can grow under the intense desert sun."

He then picks up a rose. "You can't fool anyone that these roses are different because they're from the Far East, if even that is true. They're cold--too cold, clearly preserved with a bit of ice magic. But when thawed, the blooms will quickly die, even faster than it would had you never done so in the first place."

"And these," Gale gestures at a large swath of flowers. "These… well, they're carnations."

Carnations, hm? Gale taps his chin in thought while the merchant tries to string together a rebuttal. It's been ages since I've last seen these. Reyna would love them…

The merchant finally finds his voice, though he still stumbles over his words. "N…Now see here, young miss--"

Gale raises his hand to cut him off. "It's sir, sir, nor am I young." He turns towards the merchant, a mischievous smirk on his face. "You'll need to be a better liar if you ever want to be a successful merchant." The Viera shakes his head as the other's face turns red. "But you have something I want. So let's make a deal, shall we?"

~

Laurent rubs his neck as he gets ready to enter the apartment. Did Gemna really need to reorganize everything today? I'm so sore…

The Viera quietly opens the door--you could never know who may be on the other side--and relaxes when nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "I'm home."

"Reyna!" He hears Gale's voice from another room, and the light-haired Viera quickly comes out to greet him with a wide smile on his face. "You're here! Come along, I have something to show you."

Before Laurent could say anything, Gale grabs his hand and gently pulls him toward the bedroom. What has him so excited? Eir's so cute when he gets like this…

Laurent lets out an amused chuckle and lets the other Viera lead him to the bedroom. "What's this about, Eir? It was a long day at the bar, I'm pretty tired--"

"Shush, just come here." Gale gives Laurent's hand another light tug as they get to the bedroom door.

"Oh, Eir, this is…"

The moment he steps into the bedroom, Laurent notices the flowers decorating every corner of the room. It was a veritable rainbow of carnations, carefully placed as to fill the room with color, but not overwhelm.

"All of these carnations! And in so many colors, too…" Laurent reaches out to gently touch one of the flower's petals, and he can't help but to smile. "They're real! We live in the middle of a desert, how did you even manage this?"

Gale chuckles and squeezes the other Viera's hand slightly. "I happened upon a mechant selling flowers, and by some stroke of luck they weren't damaged or sickly. So, I made a deal with him."

That sounds ominous. "…What sort of deal, Eir?"

"Nothing special. Just taught him how to ply his wares better." Gale steps in front of Laurent, and wraps his arms around his waist. "But that doesn't matter. I'd do anything just to see your smile."

Laurent feels his ears heat up and glances away from Gale, and the light-haired Viera chuckles. "You're too adorable, Reyna. I take it you like them?"

"I do, Eir… thank you. They're beautiful."

Gale offers a soft smile before leaning in for a kiss. "I'm glad… Oh! I almost forgot." The viera suddenly takes a step back and grabs a small box from the nightstand.

"The carnations won't last forever, but I do have something that will." He opens the box to show Laurent two small carnation earrings. "One for you and one for me." Gale lifts the white earring out of the box and holds it up to Laurent's ear. "I think the white one would look best on you."

Laurent nods and takes the earring, carefully putting it in. "I think I agree."

Gale looks back at him while putting the black carnation in his ear. "You haven't even looked at it in a mirror yet, my love…"

"I trust your judgement." Laurent pulls Gale into a hug. "Thank you, Eir."

"Oh, I-I…" Gale stumbles over his words for a moment while in the embrace, but after a moment wraps his arms around Laurent. "Of course, my love."

The two lean in for long, tender kiss, and when Laurent pulls back, there is the smallest hint of a smirk on his face. "Now Eir, what did you really pay for all this?"

"Oh please, my love. The merchant was gullible and a terrible liar--all I had to do was hint at knowing people that wouldn't take kindly to such tricks."

"Eir… you don't know anyone like that."

"He didn't need to know that. Now let's enjoy his goodwill some more, shall we? I can't believe he had blue blooms…"

[pretty-sweet-plums]

Starting to realize I have a legit problem and actually do have body dysmorphia even with years of denial under my belt.

I hate going out. I am an introvert. But also because I feel like everyone is looking at me and seeing how fucking ugly I am no matter how hard I try to look at least decent. No one's looking, but my mind will be screaming at me the entire time that they are.

I wear huge glasses so people won't have to look into my asymmetrical eyes with their huge eye bags. I never show up anywhere without my glasses. Not because I can't see without them, I just dont want anybody to see my eyes. I find that having huge glasses make ms it so that they dont look at me.

I wear my face mask until I have to eat or drink, not just because of health reasons, but because I don't like it when people see my huge face and my ugly ass lips.

I spend more than I should on my hair because I hate how it is. Recently I've just tried to go with how curly it is so to spend less. But still, if I could rip my hair off or hide it under a wig, I would rather do that instead. Plus, my hairlines starting to get higher as I age, thanks, stupid genes.

I wear the baggiest clothes because I want to hide my thick arms and my tummy. It doesn't matter if I live in a tropical country. I'd rather sweat to death by heatstroke or dehydration before anybody sees my curveless body. The only curves being my small boobs, protuding early preggo stage looking stomach and my lumpy arms.

As much as it pained my wallet and work to be hospitalized when sick, I genuinely enjoy the rest there because I know once I get out, I've had lost almost 10 kilos of weight.

I practically glow and preen when someone says they thought I lost weight. And I shrivel and die a little more inside when someone says the opposite.

I don't throw up what little I eat, usually once a day, because honestly, I can barely afford food, how can I waste that?

I'm still lucky I love food and have the strongest cravings from time to time, otherwise I prolly would eat even less. Right now, one meal of mine can last for three days. Maybe more if I get too distracted to remember to eat. But afterwards, I get so so so mad at myself for eating so much. HOW DARE I BE HAPPY FOR HAVING EATEN WELL WHEN RIGHT NOW MY SYOMACH IS BULGING EVEN MORE THAN EVER?

Sometimes, if I have the money to spare, and on the rare occasion I go out to meet somebody, whether it be a friend, someone new or my partner, I buy new clothes to hide that fact that I don't have much and so that no one will be looking if I gained weight or something.

I like having my nails done because seeing my nails would distract people from noticing I have huge hairy hands. I wear lots of rings to do the same effect as well.

If you paid attention when I'm outside, you'll catch me always fidgeting with my baby hair, putting my bag over my tummy, making sure my face mask is covering my face and making sure my glasses are there, even if I know they are.

We only have one mirror at home, one I bought begrudgingly. Because one of my exes complained about not having one when they were over. But to this day, I only look at the mirror if I really have to, usually before I leave, because I hate seeing myself. I disgust myself. I take one look and I just wish I didn't exist.

Sex? What? No. Just don't look at me. Don't touch me. Turn off the lights while you're at it. I don't want you to see how disgusting I actually look, bare and open and ugly

[theromandaniels]

For the first time in the last five years, someone has actually asked Roman a question regarding his feelings on another potential operation. Not just for his consent into getting spliced open, not confusing wording that makes it seem like his needs are being catered to but it’s just a way for him to answer in a way that they want to hear. Even when Ophelia asks, it’s not for Roman’s genuine answer, it’s to tell him how wrong he is and that he needs to do the research. Obviously, it comes from a good place; out of love and fear and for a way to get things back on track from where they brutally veered off. But, still, never has anyone asked Roman a question and wanted to hear his answer.

He can’t look Antonio in the eyes, vision blurring at the edges and he focuses too much on the jagged lines of his scars. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know if he can answer him at all. What was his real opinion, and what was the prompt trained into him over the last half a decade? The sentence so rehearsed it sounded like someone was pulling a string from his back to make him talk?

“I don’t feel like myself anymore.” Because that is at least true. “I…it’s selfish, we all lost so much but I lost the ability to play.” Ophelia hadn’t gotten it, but there was no musical ability in her tiny bones, just the talent for being infuriating. And he knew that Toni would understand. “I guess, the first couple of them, there was hope. A solution to my problems, that all the pain and suffering would be worth it if it meant some of this damage could be erased.” Like what happened that night was irreversible after all. 

“Hubris got to me. I think I was in so much pain and so fucking annoyed that signing up for surgery after surgery was like trying to…define God in a way. To change destiny. I didn’t want to be the sad washed up rockstar that everyone pitied because the only thing he was good at was taken from him.” Perhaps, all along, that was what the meetings in group were for. Not for losing just Harry, but for losing himself too. 

“I haven’t come to terms with the fact I may never…and when you think of the bigger picture, it makes sense. I don’t want my muscles to shrivel up and die. I don’t want to be wearing a splint or a sling, or get special assistance when others out there need it more. I don’t want to be…ashamed of seeing myself. Seeing my past and my potential gone. But I don’t know if I could survive the pain and the time of surgery and recovery for it to have all been for nothing.” Physically, there was an extremely low fatality factor — unless the surgeon was actively trying to murder him — but emotionally…Roman looked like an unfeeling bastard, however,  Toni, pressed into him, touching him delicately like he was fragile, was proof that somewhere deep under the thick skin he forced himself to develop over the years of scrutiny, that there was a heart. A heart broken too many times that it may shatter to smithereens if handled without care.

Antonio’s breath hitches in his chest for just a second before he lets out a small, exasperated laugh. Roman’s joke is enough to make him grin, the corners of his mouth pulling up in that fond way reserved for the closest people in his life. “And, you know, I thought about it as soon as I said it. Bold of me, you’re right,” he teases back, his voice warm. He knows Roman says it to try to alleviate the tension in the air — appreciates it, for what it’s worth. Appreciates anything that indicates Roman is trying, at that, even if the joke is being pulled out of him almost forcefully.

He’s listening, though. Really listening. Every word Roman says feels heavy, loaded, and Antonio hangs on to each one like it’s something precious. Because it is. Roman’s been through hell, and the fact that he’s even talking about this right now — opening up like this — Antonio knows how much it costs him. When Roman finishes, Antonio is quiet for a beat, letting the weight of what he just heard settle in his chest. He’s still tracing those soft lines along Roman’s arm, careful, deliberate, grounding them both in the moment.

After a couple more beats, he nods. “And — how do you feel about that?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady. He doesn’t rush the question, doesn’t push for more than Roman’s ready to give. Decides to follow-up, though, lest he sound like a fucking therapist. “Do you want the surgery?” He pauses. “Do you want to keep trying?” He amends, because it’s not about the surgery, is it? He supposes it’s about the cost of the surgery. Antonio can’t imagine what it must have been like for Roman, one surgery after another — can’t imagine he has any fond memories of the time. He himself can barely step foot into a hospital without having a fucking panic attack, and that has more to do with the time he spent with his mom in one — having to step into one again, after having been the one confined to the white walls and the unflattering, obnoxious lighting? Well. 

There remains no judgment in his tone, no expectations. Just that same affection that’s been there since they first reconnected, like this is something they’ll face together, no matter what Roman decides. Antonio’s gaze doesn’t waver from Roman’s, his eyes soft and searching, like he’s making sure Roman knows — really knows — that he’s here for the long haul. Doesn’t spare too much thought to what else he may be able to read in his gaze — Antonio can’t be sure, but there’s no way there’s not some of the overwhelming love he feels for his friend present in it, clear as he feels it in his veins. 

[francisforever2014]

i have to go shopping today 🤢🤢👎👎👎👎👎 i hate shopping 😭😭😭

[yandere-sins]

Stares

Horrortober Day 5: Disturbance “Nothing can interrupt us now.”

I will admit I wrote this one way too late into the night. I should go to sleep yikes :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere, Body Horror, Kidnapping, Molestation, Harrassment, Sexual Innuendos/Actions Characters: Sukuna x Reader

It was rare to see the King of Curses calm and even a little approachable.

Not that you liked seeing him at all, but you preferred it this way than any other. Ever so often, he peeked out of Itadori Yuji’s face, taunting you, belittling his host. However, you were just glad to get through with your work that day, teaching the boy the necessary theory he had to learn. You’d be gone before you had to deal with the host or the curse inside of him, just like every day. Routine, that’s what Nanami called it. Routine would benefit all of you, but you still hadn’t come around to like what you were forced to do.

Morally, it was wrong to call the boy a curse. He ate something cursed, and now he was beyond screwed, but still… Whenever you saw him, pure survival instinct ran through your veins. You wanted to defeat him, end this miserable life, but you weren’t allowed. Sorcerers weren’t supposed to teach curses, just kill. But you were torn between your orders and duty, looking at what was sitting in front of you.

Asking other sorcerers for their opinion on the matter, and you were faced with the same responses. The same struggle and conflict you were facing, except, maybe, Gojo, who seemed to be unbothered by what he dragged into your holy halls. However, the most unnerving thing that came up in conversation was how often Sukuna showed himself in your class… but not in the others. Given, they did see the casual third or fourth eye, or one mouth too many. Still, even if the others were unnerved, they chose to ignore, while you were the only one to actually have spoken to the king—though it was no honor.

“Brat, the teacher’s staring.” Instantly, Yuji’s attention shifted to the extra mouth on his cheek and then to you, expecting you to say something. You quickly caught your composure, not having realized you’ve been staring - probably in disgust - at him, almost feeling bad. Clearing your throat, you picked up your book again, shaking your head in denial before continuing to monotonously read the text inside of it out loud. Sorcerer history hadn’t been your favorite subject either, but you were stuck with it, unfortunately. Yuji was diligent enough, but even while you read, you couldn’t get your mind off the threat in front of you.

Especially not when long, clawed fingers gripped your book by the spine, lowering it with surprising force.

“No, you’ve been staring. There’s no denying it, Sorcerer, spit it out,” Sukuna grinned at you cheekily, having temporarily taken over your real student.

“I was trying not to vomit looking at you,” you snarled back, slapping his hand away that he retracted in fake hurt. “Bad liar,” he called you before the marks suddenly faded, Yuji going back to being himself.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered apologetically like so many times before. And you sighed, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

»»————————

It wasn’t his fault either when Sukuna cornered you in one of the hallways around the school. Being cornered by strong two arms did not give you the butterflies that all these novels always tried to sell. Granted, you flinched pretty hard, but once you were face to face with him, your anger far outweighed your fear. He was scary, no question asked. Sukuna could destroy you with a flick of his finger. But somehow, naively so, you didn’t believe he would. Something about ‘he could have, but he hasn’t’ made you bold apparently. Stupidly so.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes. Yuji’s body looked stupidly wasted on him, the boy being such a ray of sunshine in contrast to his evil counterpart. Sukuna didn’t become him. His attitude didn’t.

“You’ve been staring at me,” he repeated. Why was the topic so important to him?

“So what? What is it to you?” you returned snidely. Lips curling into a grin, you felt like you had actually humored him. Not the direction you wanted to go with the King. “Well, I wanted a good look at you…” he mumbled, his eyes driving from the shirt on your collarbones to the shoes you were wearing slowly, noticeably, and… lusty.

“...too,” he finished his sentence before licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” you whispered dryly, staring at him perturbed, and Sukuna chuckled at your obvious rejection.

“Well, I have what I wanted.”

Before you could repeat, he disappeared, leaving behind a slumping student of yours, and you cursed the King of Curses quietly, dropping everything to had in your arms to support Yuji. “Asshole,” you mumbled, and for a brief moment, you thought you heard him chuckle again, but you couldn’t be sure.

»»————————

It was him. He was planning something all along, and you knew it.

But no one could see it since this plan almost exclusively involved you.

“Shrivel and die,” you told him through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest as hard as you could. Sukuna was undeterred, pressing you against the old chalkboard and nibbling on your earlobe. Why did no one believe you when you swore up and down that he wasn’t just a quiet bystander? That he indeed was trying to do something—or someone?

“I do love a filthy mouth,” he sighed, making you want to throw up just from the implications alone. Even with your elbow between you, there was no movement. The other sorcerers had told you about Yuji’s strength, but you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. Apparently, however, you couldn’t, and it was infuriating. While Sukuna was doing as he pleased, you decided on a different approach, opening your mouth to scream.

Finally, it caused some reaction in him, his head recoiling at the jarring sound, but before long, your lips were captured with his, a fight breaking out between your mouths. He was trying to silence you efficiently with his tongue in your throat, the mere thought of kissing a student repulsing you, and you were biting at his lips which didn’t seem to bother Sukuna at all.

“Someone will come,” you reminded him fiercely as he broke away to give you some air.

“Silly,” he only commented before kissing you again. You were hammering at his chest, trying to make your disapproval evident, but it was to no avail. Sukuna wouldn’t budge. Only when he, mercifully, allowed another breath, you screamed again, using your palms to defend from his face closing in to shut you up. The weight of his body was pressing you into the wall painfully, but realizing your powers simply wouldn’t show no matter how hard you tried was even worse. Did he have some kind of ability that stole your energy from you? Was it fear that blocked you from using it? Were you afraid?

You were. 

It was indeed silly, even if it was painful to agree with Sukuna. You never feared for your life, taking every day and mission as it came. But you were scared now because of the monster in front of you. You had been right: you should have killed him when you could. Stupid! Absolutely stupid to keep around!

Even you understood that it wasn’t death you feared. You feared Sukuna’s presence and the effects it had on you. How defenseless you were suddenly and how, even though he always disappeared in the end after annoying you, he just didn’t seem to let go of you now. 

“Scream some more,” he taunted, and you weren’t going to object. Immediately, you put up the fight again, feeling your lungs clench when you robbed them of all the air to get some help. But nothing happened. “I like it when they struggle,” Sukuna laughed, crazy, madly, victoriously. As if he won a war you didn’t know about.

“Come, open your eyes! Look where you are!” he encouraged you, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, you looked around, seeing the same old classroom that you always had when teaching Yuji. The sight slowly began to shift, fog collecting at your feet and the walls moving unnaturally under your gaze. You’ve been scared before, but it was nothing compared to what you felt as everything shifted. 

You hadn’t realized it. 

Not for one moment did you know he activated his domain, something no one had been able to explore until now. It was different from what you expected, much more vast and deadly. But you also saw the remainders of the classroom, and you wondered how much of it was taking up the actual reality. Horrified, you looked around, now knowing your screams wouldn’t echo for no one but you two here. You always thought you were a decent sorcerer but maybe… maybe you were nothing at all. At least not in the eyes of Sukuna.

“Finally,” Sukuna sighed, satisfied and seemingly exhausted by effort you didn’t know he was making. “Nothing can interrupt us now. I just needed you to lower your guard.”

“You…” Your mumble was met with deafening silence. Not even Sukuna’s breathing made a sound in this space, and you immediately felt claustrophobic in the pitch black that encased the realm. His realm.

“I was nice. I waited. Those… manga said it was proper in these times, though, I don’t care for them. But you kept staring at me as if you were trying to kill me. Do you know how hard it was to wait? A king shouldn’t have to wait-no. I shouldn’t have to wait for you when you are coming on to me.”

Blinking a few times, you looked back at him. Perhaps, for the first time, you were truly meeting his gaze, always finding a reason to not look at him directly before. But not anymore. Now you were indeed looking at him, not remembering those times he said you stared when this was the first and only time you really saw him. “It’s been too long that I had company. How nice of you to offer yourself up to me~”

“I never did-” you tried to argue, but you were swept into another kiss, flailing in his arms as you feared falling. Endlessly. You could no longer discern where the realm started and ended. “You’re mine now,” he growled, unhinged.

“I will devour you, Looker. It’s punishment for not welcoming me sooner. There’s a lot to make up for.”

You’ve never seen Sukuna calm before. Because if what you had witnessed was what you called calm, it had been because he was waiting for the right moment. The right moment to pounce, and to your misery, it was now. Stares could kill, people said. It was true, you found out, as you killed yourself with it by making the King of Curses recognize you. Though, you wished you were dead.

You merely killed your freedom with your actions, as there was no way Sukuna would let you have that ever again after you piqued his interest unwillingly.

[murfpersonalblog]

This is so cool; omg, monsters are my favorite thing to talk about; thanks for opening this discussion! Long-form content FTW! <3

Other than children's vampires (The Count in Sesame Street & COUNT DUCKULA!!!!!) my introduction to vampires was through Anne Rice. I began reading The Vampire Chronicles when I was around 12 and they were my first 'grown-up' vampires. I didn't read or see a monster-vampire till I eventually saw and read Dracula... but I would have been over 18 by then. By which point, Anne's style of vampire was The style of vampire to me. I know in a theoretical way and in the sense that you know any thing that is a general part of culture that the fully monster-vampire exists and predates Anne's style of vampire. But to me, Anne's style of vampire is *the* vampire as it was the first time I encountered vampires in a completely realised and more complex than a kid's cartoon way and I suppose because of that, I view all other vampires I later encountered through the lens of what Anne's vampires are. How strange. I'd never really thought about it this way, but it is how it is for me... You could say that Anne slightly ruined monster-vampires for me. I desire the longing and the yearning and the eternal feeling that you can never belong and never know the entirety of if existence has any meaning at all... and the sensuality of the blood and of Death and of existence and being alive itself. And so when a vampire is more-beast than this, I'm like "Oh!" :( and I yearn myself for my yearning vampires, hehe!

Amazing. 👏 I was a teen when I started getting heavy into Anne Rice--my aunt was like: I know you love vampires; here's this really great series I know you'll like. Woman changed my life. Anne Rice is my favorite author of all time--she's crazy, but she's also the goat. IWTV was the first time I saw a "human" vampire. Like, Dracula has all these disguises & forms, inc. the suave Gentleman Death, a la Bela Lugosi, but AR was the first time I saw vampires that had extensive human backgrounds & personalities, that affected how they approached vampirism--the time period they lived & died in really affected how they saw & interacted with the world. It's something I don't think fans appreciate enough--what does it mean to be a being who lived & died & was reborn before Jesus was even a thing, in ancient Rome, or Egypt, or Mesopotamia, these "cradles" of civilization? What kind of complexes does that give you, when whole religions of salvation were born out of something you see as damnation? What does vampirism give humans, and what does it take away, if they're still effing miserable? What does it mean to be broke as a joke during the most hedonistic period of Rococo France, then die and get everything you ever wanted?

Like, Lestat's super modern(TM), but all the way to Blood Communion he doesn't give up his Rococo velvet & lace--it's what he feels he deserves & earned, after being raped into Darkness by Magnus; and inheriting all his money & finery to live the life he always wanted as a penniless human.

I mean, doesn't *everyone* feel like they are odd and out of place and like *the other*?

Exactly. Like, Lugosi/Oldman!Dracula wear Victorian tuxedos cuz they wake up in a Victorian period & need to blend in so they can hunt & seduce & kill--and their human faces disguise the abominable demonic forms Oldman!Dracula truly has. It dulls their sharp edges so they seem "safe" & "normal." But AR's Lestat flips that, redefining the Gothic monster. Unlike Dorian Grey, Lestat's no shriveled husk pretending to be hot--his natural form IS beautiful. But it's his flashy clothes that he weaponizes; a power move that allows him to embrace standing out & being unique & a Gothic icon; cuz he DOES feel out-of-place/time, but makes the most of it. It's home to him.

"I was starting to think more of my own life and points of view about existence, and being in Lestat's mind in many of these books gave me another voice with which, in a weird way to discuss my own world-view with. I often agreed with his thinking, and from there I could explore my own thoughts on way more topics. And stuff like these books and the film The Piano, which my Dad had recorded off the telly and unbeknownst to my parents, I used to watch it over and over again (I used to get up at 5am to practise violin and piano as I hated being HEARD and then from around 6:30 I rewarded myself with either listening to music or watching a film, alone, before anyone else woke up!) Anyway, yeah - basically The Vampire Chronicles and The Piano (Oh and Amadeus I watched over and over too!)... and a few other books I read around the time with purely human, but transgressive stories were my sensual awakening. Funny to reflect on, really. I was never all that interested in love. But sensuality and meaning, and existential questions and - I suppose sensual feeling was as close as I got to finding love interesting?"

AR definitely played a part in my exposure to sensuality & love, yup. Like, it wasn't necessarily Vampires As A Genre that did it for me, but rather the Brontes & Jane Austen, plus a heavy dose of Disney & anime love stories. But yeah, TVA was THE sensual/sexual book of AR's for me--book!Armand's struggles just CLICKED with me; I love him so much. 😭

Ghosts were the supernatural beings I was personally obsessed with since I was a tiny child... until I read The Vampire Chronicles.... I ADORED creepy ghost stories, especially of malevolent ghosts wreaking revenge on those who killed them or deserved it, hehe... and I loved to think about both malevolent and benevolent ghosts.) I suppose there's an essence in which you could compare ghosts to Anne Rice style vampires - both immortal beings, with their human feelings mainly intact, and yet an inability to fully integrate with humanity. And I guess I related.

THIS RIGHT HERE IS WHY I LOVE ANNE. Although she's famous for her vamps, IMO her best stories are her ghost stories. The way her mysteries build up & plots unravel, and then there's these big reveals? 🤌 I LOVE the Witching Hour, Blackwood Farm, Servant of the Bones--and then ofc QotD & PLatRoA drop the bombshell that even AR's vampires are just the result of a ghost possession, like.... 🤯

"(I was at one point going to mention witches in here too, but I figured since they're human and this is already long to just avoid witches here!)"

Nonononono--TALK 👏 YOUR 👏 ISH!!!! 👏 It's 100% relevant to vampires, talking about GHOSTS & Amel & his twin witches. Cuz AR's grasp of witchcraft as spirit-summoning rewired my whole brain; how it's invisible ghosts/spirits/"gods" in the aether that affect the elements & see the past/present/future, and pass that arcane knowledge on to their witches thru cannibalism & seances & blood sacrifices--and what happens when a ghost becomes a demon/devil that has those same powers, but are inextricably linked to blood & blood magic...it's effing incredible. As a baby goth, I'd never read something so insightful in my life.

"I used to say I could see ghosts in walls, in the bark of trees, in the glow on my violin strings. I even used to personify things in ghostly ways (I used to imagine street lights were fireflies when you weren't looking - some good, some evil...."

That's such beautiful imagery. And yup, pareidolia's wild; I sometimes think I can see faces in the branches of trees, like the Green Man of the Forest, or Grandmother Willow.

Obviously, Anne Rice's vampires are often monstrous in what they do. But I think (if I can remember my child and teen self) I loved how monstrous acts always reflect back into the monstrous capacity within humans too. Like, I always loved a ghost story where some moral wrongdoing from which someone might have hoped for personal gain (as an example) instead led to death and then the eternal inability to ever solve the lesson now-learned. Or as I said before when a ghosts wreaks their own revenge.

And AR snaps when she has ghost!Claudia, and Garwain Blackwood, and even Amel as ghosts, whom she always first introduces to us as people with human emotion & sentimentality, where we KNOW they have the capacity for goodness...then something goes wrong and they die or whatever, and now you've got a full-fledged demon wreaking havoc. Azriel in Servant of the Bones breaks the mold, cuz he never loses his sense of self & soul; but then you have Memnoch, where you're like WTF is this dude's malfunction?! 😅

But yeah, I can enjoy a werewolf and take that concept a lot more lightly and more monster-y I suppose. And werewolves can have fascinating allegories to human experiences too. And I've watched/read other vampires too (I adore the film of What we do in the Shadows (watched a bit of the series, but didn't continue), and I've seen Buffy and The Vampire diaries... though I was never adoring of either of those...) but yeah... interesting!

Ohhhh, keep watching What We Do In The Shadows! The eps are for the most part anthologies & self-contained, so you can skip around a bit; and sometimes they're hit or miss (I'm not particularly liking Season 6 as much as the others so far, which isn't great, since this is the final season). But like, definitely watch 2x10 "Theatre des Vampires;" they directly parody The Trial from IWTV, it's hilarious.

I found it so interesting to read your comparison of vampires and zombies. For me, I always hated zombies in fiction (speaking of film - I've never read about zombies) because I found the soulless aspect so unnerving. It isn't surprising when you think why I love ghosts and vampires, I suppose. To watch something with zombies gives me this weird, unsettling, sick feeling, like I just want to escape the entire story and am trapped. (Unless a very atypical zombie story!)

I grapple with how I feel about zombies in pop culture, cuz there's been quite a few phases that have redefined them. Zombies are originally from Afro-Haitian culture, where they were directly tied with the concept of the soul/spirit, which a god/witch/priest(ess) could thus control. And some European vampires have similar connections to spirits/souls gone awry. IMO the most "soulful" zombie in pop culture is Frankenstein--in him we see crossovers with undead corpses & the manipulation of the human soul. Modern zombies like in Resident Evil & The Last of Us are mindless corpses; but then there's In the Flesh, where they retain their souls and medicine's created a treatment to keep necrosis/zombification down. They're all still dealing with the Gothic question of what makes a monster, but the genre's devolved & spiraled where zombies tend to only represent The Horde(TM) & apocalypse, rather than as individuals struggling with monstrous immortality. It sucks.

I feel like this was incredibly waffly. Welcome to the stream-of-thought that is my mind! Now I'm curious what style of vampire everyone else perceives all vampires through the lens of!?! Or maybe some people have a multifaceted lens, informed by many different vampire-types?

Waffle away, this was the best thread/poll I've seen in months. <3

Immortal, bloodthirsty creatures that feed on humans - they have sharp fangs and a hatred for sunlight and garlic.

Vampires might not be the hero you typically root for, but they have transfixed us for centuries.

The first short story about the monster written in the English language was John Polidori's The Vampyre in 1819.

More followed, with Bram Stoker's Dracula in 1897 inspiring F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922. This is now being remade by Robert Eggers and is set to be released in the UK in 2025, starring Bill Skarsgård, Lily-Rose Depp and Nicholas Hoult.

But what's driving our hunger for vampire stories?

For writer and actor Mark Gatiss, his fascination with vampires started early. The co-writer of BBC drama series Sherlock and Dracula has been a "horror obsessive" for as long as he can remember.

Gatiss went on from a childhood love of scary stories to star as Dracula in an audio production, made a documentary on the monster as well as a 2020 BBC series, which sees the Count (played by Claes Bang) venture to London.

He says the opportunity to bring Stoker's iconic vampire to life felt "too good to be true".

"Like Sherlock Holmes, it's an imperishable myth and, really, if anyone gives you the chance to have a go at it - you have to do it," he explains.

Gatiss explains an image of Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes "silhouetted against a doorway when he comes back from the dead with his collar up" helped spark the 2020 Dracula series with Claes Bang

Rolin Jones is an executive producer and a writer on the TV adaptation of Interview with the Vampire, based on Anne Rice's collection of novels.

The series, available on BBC iPlayer, follows vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac (played by Jacob Anderson) who shares the story of his life and relationship with Lestat de Lioncourt (played by Sam Reid) with a journalist.

He explains stories about the vampires "come back over and over again" because they "get in your bones and haunt you," with many raising questions of immortality, death and love.

The modern popularity of the figures can be seen on social media with #vampire having 2.7 million posts on TikTok.

Jones adds that each day he will see more people tattooing the characters' faces on their body, explaining "this is a rabid fan base".

"They're really tense and complex characters", Jones says

'Scared me to death'

While the characteristics of fictional vampires have changed throughout history - some burn to a crisp in the sunlight, others have famously sparkly skin - they have one thing in common: immortality.

Dr Sam George - an associate professor at the University of Hertfordshire who taught students about vampires in fiction - explains that part of the reason the monster endures is because they "get us to think about the big questions that concern us, ideas about ageing" as well as "what happens beyond the grave".

She adds that "the vampire's always been linked very strongly with disease, with contagion," adding that if we look back in history we can see that our interest in the immortal monster seems to pique around times of mass disease.

"When the first fictional vampire appeared in 1819, there was a strong link with tuberculosis," she says.

"Nosferatu is made to actually look like plague rats," Dr George explains

She adds that F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922, centring on a character famous for the plagued rats he brought in his wake, came shortly after the Spanish influenza pandemic.

The academic adds that this is "really important to why vampires are so popular and on trend now, when you think of Nosferatu and its link to the plague, post Covid we're very interested in the vampire as contagion."

Executive producer Jones adds that a key point of interest for him lies in working out why vampires want to keep living. "You take mortality out of any drama, and it's quite interesting," he says.

Jones adds that Ms Rice herself wrote the novel after losing her daughter and that this sense of "grief and mourning" is "exceptionally articulated" in the book.

'They seduce you'

"There's this allure to them," Jones says of vampires - like Assad Zaman, who plays the vampire Armand and Jacob Anderson, who plays Louis de Pointe du Lac

While vampires may let us play out our fears about mortality and death, Jones adds that there is something else that draws us to the fanged figures.

"They're the sexiest, the most sensual of monsters," he says. "They seduce you."

Jones adds that when he first picked up the novel Interview with the Vampire, "it seemed to me what I was reading was this really repressed and really messy love story."

Dr George agrees, explaining "vampires have gotten younger and better looking over the years" and notes the difference between Nosferatu and Twilight's Edward Cullen (played by Robert Pattinson).

The academic adds there has been "a shift" in the way people read vampire fiction, explaining there has been a lot of interest in the topic of sexuality and vampires, like the "queer family" presented in Ms Rice's novel. 

The combination of love and immortality, Dr George says, is also seen in Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film Bram Stoker's Dracula, which ran with the tagline "love never dies".

For Dr George, the "sense that the vampire can address a number of questions all at once," from death to love is the reason it stays with us today.

This article made me curious (I haven't put combination of some/all as an option as 100% would vote for it, as of course it isn't just one thing... so I ask the *most* significant thing for you)...

Edit to add that this is very difficult even for me to answer and I created the poll. Now, I'd say existential questions would be my top answer, but when I first read the books, it was the exploration of the outsider/difference I think for me, so perhaps that's the truest answer?

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Duty PT4: Sneak Peek

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

SUMMARY: The day of the wedding arrives, and though Y/N is drowning in dark memories, she forces on a brave face for her new husband.

A/N: I'm so excited to share this chapter with you guys soon, but I promised myself that if I didn't finish this chapter tonight I'd post a sneak peek instead so here it is! A glimpse into what happened in King's Landing. Full story of this traumatic incident in the upcoming chapter 👀

Never in your life growing up in the Hills did you believe that you would one day find yourself sharing a meal with the Royal Family.

Prince Tommen is sitting beside you, the Queen Regent opposite you, and her daughter, the Princess Myrcella, beside her. The two youngsters are quite fond of you, constantly complimenting your hair and your dress. Whenever he sees you walking the halls of the Red Keep, Prince Tommen runs up to you and holds your hand. It’s very sweet.

The person you can’t read is Cersei Lannister. She has never spoken a mean word to you — always perfectly polite. But there’s something in her tone. The way she speaks to you in short, clipped sentences. You catch her looking at you sometimes like she wants you to shrivel up and die. A part of you hopes that it’s just her being a protective mother. Still, she leaves you with an uneasy feeling.

But the King? There is no doubt in your mind where his affections lie. He has constantly showered you with gifts and compliments from the moment you arrived in King’s Landing. The day your engagement was announced, he gifted you a golden necklace embedded with rubies.

“A token of my love,” he said. You wear the necklace everyday now.

He’s sitting beside you now, at the head of the table where a King belongs. There’s been polite conversation all night long around the table, except Joffrey has been a bit irritable. It’s to be expected though, what with the stress of being at war.

Joffrey looks disinterested as you tell him the story of your sixteenth name day and how disastrous it was. Right in the middle of the story, something leaps onto your lap causing you to spill a cup of wine on the table and down your dress.

You look down in shock to find your kitten, Bells, staring up at you with big green eyes. Almost immediately, you burst into laughter and start stroking his dark fur as he purrs in your lap.

“What is that thing doing in here?” Joffrey snaps, as he stares daggers at Bells.

“Oh, it’s alright. No harm done,” you say with a smile, briefly glancing up at him.

He eyes both you and the cat then stabs into a slab of pork with his fork. “We shouldn’t have beasts like that at the table,” he says curtly as he sticks the pork in his mouth.

“He’s hardly a beast,” you chuckle, “He’s only excitable because he hasn’t learned yet.”

Tommen reaches over to pet Bells as Joffrey eyes the two of you.

“You know they say black cats are cursed,” he says, “Perhaps you’d be better off with a bird or a dog.”

You frown as you look up at him, completely bewildered by his harsh response to Bells’ playfulness. And that’s when you see it. The way Joffrey flinches every time Bells moves, his eyes wary of the animal.

A smirk spreads out on your lips as you look up at Joffrey. “Your Grace, don’t tell me you’re afraid of cats,” you tease him.

Cersei’s head immediately snaps to Joffrey and fixes on him. The King doesn’t say anything, simply glancing between you and the cat. You giggle — completely unaware of the rising tension — making Tommen and Myrcella laugh too.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you,” you say, “I promise.”

You put Bells down on the floor again and watch him scurry off somewhere before returning to the food on your plate. Myrcella asks you questions about your home with Tommen hanging on to every single word.

What you don’t notice is how quiet Joffrey has grown. Nor the glare he’s burning into you from where he sits.

[amarguerite]

Pov please 👀👀👀?

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

From the skating AU of Persuasion:

"You're in a good mood," Anne observed, as they waited in the hotel lobby for their shuttle to the airport. "You haven't stopped smiling since gala rehearsals."

"To be fair, Jamie smiles a lot," said Lizzy.

Jamie bit the insides of his lips. It was so hard not spoiling the surprise, given the months and months of text messages that could all be boiled down to:

Anne: Frederick just said I was pretty/ looked cute in my school uniform/ carried my skate bag/ declared absolute fealty to me and swore he would ride into battle wearing my colors, do u think he might like me back??

Jamie: I have no idea.

Anne: Now he's done something else ridiculously dreamy!!! I have SUCH A CRUSH

"He's just a smiley guy," said Lizzy. She elbowed Jamie in the side and looked pointedly at where Frederick, his toque pulled down low over his forehead, was standing behind Anne, texting something to his parents.

"Just... great to see you in person again," said Jamie. "You have to promise me you'll text me as soon as you're back in Montreal. I mean not immediately--" even someone as direct and as determined as Frederick Wentworth would probably have to wait a day or two to get everything together, or at least have to wait until it was snowing-- which reminded him! "And send me a pic next time it's snowing! I can't believe it snows more where you live than where we live."

Anne did him one better, and sent a selfie of Frederick kissing her cheek. Behind them was-- "Lizzy, help, how do I zoom in on this again?"

"How do you not know how to zoom in on a photo nii-san?" Lizzy complained. "You're worse than mom, I swear." But she got up and helped him zoom in enough to realize that Anne and Frederick were at a rink, and it was snowing, before she made a face at him. "I hope you're not going over all, like... prophetic on me. I legit do not want to get married."

"Not now, you mean." Jamie leaned his elbow on his desk and his chin on his hand, feeling so pleased and so happy for Anne-- and maybe, just the littlest, tiniest bit sad for himself. As complicated as it might be to start dating your pairs partner, at least that was really common. Everyone in pairs or ice dancing (except for sibling teams like him and Lizzy) tended so sell some romantic story on ice, and that fiction seemed to lead to the real thing so often. Jamie never wanted any other partner than Lizzy, who voiced all his disagreements for him, and understood exactly how to explain she wanted something done differently without setting him off in a spiral of worry about how terrible he was, and covered for him so much when he was too anxious to speak or learn anything. As much as he liked the girly romantic animes he and Lizzy pretended they watched because Lizzy liked them (she didn't; she endured them), and as much as he enjoyed watching all the other ice dancers cut romantically across the ice, he would shrivel up and die, right there on the ice, with everyone watching him, if he had to skate a romantic program with anyone. Even if (especially if?) he was skating with a cute guy.

Lizzy bumped his shoulder with her own. "Hey nii-san. You'll be swept off your feet too someday."

"Oh no, I wasn't--" He clicked out of the photo, mortified to think Lizzy thought he was jealous of his best friend, the nicest person in the world.

"I know you weren't," said Lizzy. "I have also been visited by the gift of prophesy." She dramatically put her hand to her forehead. "I see... a man in your future. Not tall and dark, but very handsome and super friendly, who won't make you talk at parties and will buy you roses every day as well as three dogs--"

"Three!"

Lizzy nodded solemnly. "Your three favorites. A ChowChow, a golden retriever, and a Newfoundland."

"No one is going to buy me three dogs," said Jamie, both delighted and embarrassed by this vision of his future.

"Of course not," said Lizzy. "Your Prince Charming will want to adopt because he'll be as nice as you."

[wisteria-whump]

ear infection whump because im very prone to ear infections and i may or may not be getting one or two rn

keep in mind ear infection symptoms and pain levels vary with severity and number of ear infections. the reason i say that and use the phrase "an ear infection or two" is because your whumpee can have an ear infection in each ear and can also have multiple different kinds of ear infection at one time occuring in one ear. my personal ear infection record, which i hope to never surpass, is 3 ear infections at once. had a run of the mill ear infection in each ear and also some fungus growing in my right ear from getting water stuck in there 😭 according to my doctor, my ear canals are abnormally shaped so my ears have a rough time.

first off, a whumpee with an ear infection(s) probably shouldn't be wearing earbuds or ear plugs or anything that goes in the ear because it causes excruciating pain. do with that what you will. im sure whumper would have fun with that.

it makes me want to shrivel up and die just thinking about it but.... whumper shoving q tips or other long objects in whumpees already painful ears 😬

the pain gets significantly worse at night and it's near unbearable

whumpee goes to the doctor and the doctor isn't very gentle when using tools to look inside their ear

speaking of which, the slightest movement of the ear (just pushing it any way that isn't its natural position) is incredibly painful

whumpee just laying there trying to will the pain to go away

whumpee trying literally everything to get water out of their ear