#its so nostalgic for so many reasons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months

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Hello! I’d love to read your vision of the LoD boys x MC in high school. (High school to adults, just high school, childhood. Anything!) Alllll the cliches appreciated, haha.

Coming-of-Age HC's with the LADS Guys

pairing: fem!reader x Zayne, fem!reader x Xavier, fem!reader x Rafayel

content: fluff, alternate universe (kinda)

Childhood with Zayne is filled with increasingly hot summers and snowy winters. It’s memories of an extroverted young girl dragging along her much more introverted best friend (well, Caleb’s friend first) to make popsicles under the blaze of the June sun and snowmen in the cold of January. In the same way snow melts with the coming of spring, you chip his shell away, making a friendship that’s stronger than any of your lifetimes.

Those years with Zayne are like a pleasant dream, soft and gentle, like his hand when he wipes away the tears from your cheeks whenever you fall or when he places a band-aid on one of the many injuries prone to an adventurous spirit.

Middle School with Zayne is when you first feel fragility in your friendship. You’re realizing you might be growing in different directions.

Zayne is intelligent, often getting attention for his grades and participating in scholars tournaments while you’re busy with your own hobbies and friends that come with them.

There’s hope your friendship will persevere each time you walk home together, each time he lets you share his umbrella on heavy rainy days, and each day he saves to spend with you.

High school with Zayne is confusing. Growing into adulthood is an exciting and nervous situation for anyone but even more-so when everyone but you seem to realize that you have feelings for your childhood friend.

Your grandma is constantly reminding you how smart and handsome Zayne has become. He’s going to study to be a doctor, you know! Maybe you should ask him to prom?

Caleb complains about how Zayne usually takes your side in arguments and does what you want all the time. He frequently teases you every time you sigh over the older boy. Isn’t getting a crush on your older brother’s friend too obvious?

They’re right though, and it’s awkward. What’s more awkward is the stolen kiss with Zayne in the new car his parents got him when he first got his license. You don’t talk about it even after he goes to college.

Meeting Zayne as an adult is nostalgic yet new as you learn about each other again. The trust you had in each other never truly left.

With each trinket, you realize he’s still the same Zayne, quiet and stern on the outside but with a patient and gentle center. However, his smart mouth still rears its head as frequently as it did back in high school.

You watch out for him more as an adult, because you see that he isn’t actually good at caring for himself despite all his intelligence. You make it so he can rely on you to get through the past days and future ones.

You try new things together. You adapt to how your views of the world differ so you can mold those differences together, creating one shared experience in the life you build with one another.

Childhood with Xavier is innocent. Being born on Philos is like being born in a fantasy book. Your world is sword training and ceremony rehearsals, your feet always chasing after the decorated knights and lightseekers before they board their spaceships. In your mind, the world is as limitless as the starry sky promised just beyond its surface.

Xavier is the same way. He says he likes sword training because it’s the only thing he’s good at. Truthfully, he loves that sword, carries it around with him everywhere like a third arm, and you love training with your new fellow student.

As you get older, things start to change for reasons you don’t really understand. The loss of innocence is slow, dragging out like the death of a star. It starts when silly days sword practicing becomes military drills. Then, Xavier’s ceremony rehearsals become real with each trial he has to overcome. It culminates when you find out that he will probably be betrothed one day against his will, which manifests into doubt that you would ever be on the list for a prince to marry.

Military Academy with Xavier offers a surprising amount of freedom as you discover yourself away from the watchful eyes of the royal family. It’s reintroducing him to your favorite snacks and music and sneaking out of the barracks to watch the stars and anything else he couldn’t do under the iron grip of his family.

There’s also many nights helping him study and focus so he can become the best version of himself because he still has rebellious tendencies after all these years.

These tendencies lead you to covering for him and also him talking you into one too many bad ideas. Ideas that leave you carrying one another home on stumbling legs after too many rounds with random wanderers or rounds with liquor way stronger than you know how to deal with.

It’s okay. You have each other to keep the other safe, so attached at the hip that Jeremiah always wonders where the other one is whenever he catches the two of you apart.

His light shines only for you. If you asked, he would give anything to make sure you’re happy: his time, his freedom, his life.

The jealousy and longing to be with you grates against the cage his title keeps around him whenever he sees someone else who has seen your light and fallen in love with you too. It’s written love letters, never signed, but left in your locker, the ones that smell like forget-me-nots and written in a prose that Xavier hopes you won’t recognize as his when he sees you fawning over the little notes.

Your looming graduation reignites the worries about your relationship. You have to come to terms with your respective role as a knight and Xavier as King. Xavier feels the same way.

Yet this part of your life quickly becomes filled with sweet nothings – promises to run away together, carried on his wishes to be with you for the rest of immortality, all wrapped in the little star charm carried on his sword. It makes you realize your feelings were requited all along.

Adulthood with Xavier fills like achieved dreams and nights you never want to end. It’s basking in the company of one another, adorned with kisses and released longing that couldn’t be given years prior.

It’s becoming more than just his guiding starlight but his entire galaxy, and he shows it with each kiss he gives you.

Childhood with Rafayel feels like you’re dreaming. Mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but there’s one right in front of you.

You learn so many things from him. He loves talking about almost anything from his culture to your culture. He loves art, the sunset, and music.

You bring him lots of things from land that you think he would like, spending long days at the beach trading items with him and showing him human toys. It becomes normal to strike out early every weekend to meet the Lemurian boy again and again.

He braids Lemurian ribbons and clips seashell accessories into your hair. He teaches you Lemurian lullabies and sayings. He often gets in trouble for accidentally gifting you family heirlooms without realizing the weight of said items. He just thought it was pretty. Even if he got in trouble, it was worth it to see you smile.

Your time together eventually develops into trying to think of ideas to explore further from the beach. You train to hold your breath a little longer with hopes of making it further into the sea than last time.

Your first kiss is because of the legend that Lemurian kisses can let one breathe underwater. It wasn’t really a big deal back then. However, the memory of it makes your face hot many years later when you think back on it.

The end of summer marks the slowdown of your free time together. It always ends with a pinky promise to spend your next free day with him.

Your 8th grade year with Rafayel is a collage of photos and videos filled with cawing seagulls, the serenade of his harmonica, and the first time your feet were able to touch the surface of the water. Rafayel always seems to want to show off his new powers as the next God of the Sea.

He’s still a child though, which means he is still insistent to sneak to school with you to see what human classes are like. He still talks too smartly to the other students, and you still have to talk him out of a fight with one of the other boys.

It’s an exhausting day but he seemed to have fun running around town with you, saving the day in the strip of pictures printed out from the photo booth and the memory of his first surface world sunset.

Your later teenage years offer even less time together but each time you visit him feels more meaningful than the last even though you can’t go further than the crackle of a bonfire at the edge of the beach. You’re happy with these late nights though because you love the boy from another world.

No matter how many years pass, he’ll always be the boy who gets shy and makes excuse after excuse to avoid singing for you despite being born a siren. He’s the boy who constantly complains about his classmates being idiots for saying you’re going to steal his blood and make him into oil and how they tease him for being friends with a human. He refuses to tell you that it’s more because of his crush on a human. Despite all that, he has no issue dropping hint after hint about how Lemurians can bond with others by giving one of their scales.

Years later, it still makes a lovely necklace to wear when he finally makes his choice to be on land, with you, his beloved bride.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #zayne fluff #rafayel fluff

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gloomwitchwrites · 11 months

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, suggestive themes, brief non-consensual grab (non-graphic)

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part One of Ink & Needle

Inside the club Riot Room, you meet a masked stranger.

Chapter Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

The puddle in the caved pavement ripples as a raindrop shatters its silent surface. Small, but growing larger and wider until the water is still again. Another raindrop falls from the sky and the process is repeated.

A beginning. An end. A beginning. An end. A—

Fresh start.

New roots.

The brick that starts the riot.

All things have a beginning. This moment is no different, because it feels like the start of something, and for so many fucking reasons.

And it’s not just the water. It isn’t only the water. There is a neon sign, and its reflection is in that tiny pool. A bright pink that is at odds with the old London architecture surrounding it. Maybe the color is melting, or maybe it’s your imagination, and your brain has finally kicked off and this is its farewell salute.

Why, when you are here for someone else’s beginning, does it really feel like yours? It’s not sour or sweet or foul or sticky but heavy as if your boots are filled with liquid cement.

This is supposed to be Evie’s night. This is her bar crawl. This is her marriage. This is her bachelorette party. But now you’re at the last place of the evening, and everything is suddenly barring down like an avalanche.

Riot Room blares the pink neon sign. It’s loud, and the very edges of your consciousness ache from how bright it is. You’re not even standing that close.

Below the sign is an archway with an open gate. A tall man in all-black stands off to the side of it checking IDs and handing out wristbands. From the open gate comes a pounding, shredding beat that you’re not sure is heavy metal, electronic, or a combination of the two.

Riot Room is completely different from the other places you’ve visited tonight. The four places before this were all quaint pubs with odd names and a nostalgic sense of comfort. Riot Room is a club. There is nothing quaint or nostalgic about it.

Two scantily clad women in black leather wearing large coats trot by, their heads bent close as they talk to each other. Their lips are painted a dark purple that resembles bruising as if they’ve been kissed roughly.

To your right, Sam’s gaze drops to span the length of one of the women. She looks on in appreciation, her pink-painted lips pursing with interest. Her dark skin is speckled with gold dust and her tight curls are bundled up on the top of her head in two big buns.

Sam’s gaze draws away from the woman’s bare legs. Her gaze falls on you, and you grin widely, knowing she’s been caught. The corner of her mouth quirks with a hint of smile.

She leans in until your shoulders touch. “It’s not like you weren’t looking.”

You lean in a bit more until your noses are close to brushing. “But I wasn’t the one who got caught.”

Sam laughs and pulls away, the sound of it bright and airy. She waves her hand as if trying to ward off evil.

Once she’s caught her breath, Sam leans around you, addressing the two women standing to your left. “Ready, ladies?”

Jade tilts her head, her blue ponytail shifting to fall over her right shoulder. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Did you pick this place, Sam? Seems like a ‘you’ kind of place.”

Sam nods toward Evie with one of her buns. “The bride-to-be agreed to this.”

You and Jade turn in unison. Evie shrugs. “I did.”

Jade snorts and holds out an outstretched hand toward the club. “You hate these kinds of places.”

“Oh my god,” mutters Sam throwing her arms up in the air, her gold bangles clacking against each other.

Evie laughs softly, and the sound is sweet enough to rot your teeth. That’s the thing about Evelyn Green. She is the nicest, most kind-hearted, selfless person you’ll ever meet. Rarely does this woman do anything for herself, and putting this evening together for her was a struggle. Not because she’s difficult, but because she wanted tonight to be about everyone, not just herself.

Evie’s button-nose scrunches slightly. “I told Sam I wanted to come. When am I ever going to go to a place like this after I marry Archie?”

Jade’s lips form into a thin line and she shakes her head. “Archie is the most un-pretentious rich boy I’ve ever met in my life. He’d love you even if you were a plastic bag. And he hates all those events the two of you go to anyway.”

“Yes,” agrees Evie. “But he’s required to go, and once we’re married, I will have to attend as well.” Her face falls slightly, and it’s understandable.

Evie’s fiancée comes from wealth—the old money kind. Archie’s great grandfather is of British nobility, and while Archie isn’t titled, that doesn’t really seem to matter. He is well-educated, and many of his closest friends and colleagues all run in the same circles.

Evie is not from that life. She grew up a poor coal miner’s daughter in southern Missouri. She managed to scrounge up enough money to move to Columbia to attend Mizzou and met Archie during an exchange program. She was in a park, and Archie was playing soccer with friends. Knocked her in the side of the head with the ball. Archie sat with her in the ambulance and the two went on a date the next day.

They’re in love, and it’s a gorgeous, beautiful thing. But not all of Archie’s family is supportive of their marriage. Many look down on her for her background. Evie acts like it doesn’t bother her, but you know different. Those events they attend together cut deep, tear into her until there is nothing left but her forced smile.

Jade sighs loudly and then turns toward Sam, pointing at her. “If I find out you forced her—”

Sam groans and then grabs Jade’s outstretched forearm, tucking Jade against her side as the two of them walk arm-in-arm towards the club. “Oh shove it, Jade,” mutters Sam.

Evie giggles and holds out her hand to you, wiggling her fingers. Grinning, you entwine your fingers with Evie’s and follow the bickering duo.

They argue all the way to the door. IDs are checked. Wristbands are handed out. A cover is paid. And then you’re walking through the gate, under the archway, and into an open courtyard.

That heaviness returns, and your boots feel like lead. Something about this place is different from the rest, and you cannot put a finger on what you’re sensing. It’s a change in the direction of the wind. It’s a falling autumn leaf. There is a shift happening, and you’re not aware of where it might come from.

The night sky is directly above your head, and you can see every star in the sky. To your immediate right—just inside the gate—is a coat check. Next to it is a stage where a man in a Jason Voorhees mask stands behind a DJ booth. He is shirtless, well-muscled, and covered in fake blood. Though both feet are on the ground, the rest of his body shakes and writhes with the intensity of the music. The bass is the loudest aspect, rattling around in your body until you start to feel dizzy.

On stage with DJ Voorhees are several other masked men. They too wear hockey masks, but they are all painted a different color. They don’t wear shirts either and they jump around on the stage, pushing and shoving each other, occasionally dropping down into the crowd to do the same before running to the stage.

The crowd is thick but mostly near the front of the stage. Beyond them on the far side of the courtyard is the bar. It’s long, spanning nearly the entire wall, with several bartenders and barbacks working along it. Next to the bar near the stage is a set of stairs that leads up into a building. People enter and exit through the door. There are windows but they’re entirely blacked out and you have no idea what might be back there.

You scan the length of the bar and find another set of stairs on the other end. This one descends and next to it is another gate—this one much smaller than the entrance—guarded by security. The back wall of the courtyard—the one facing the stage—is lined with people, but there is walking space between them and the crowd near the stage.

Evie’s smile widens, and you suddenly don’t care anymore. This is for her, even if you feel uneasy. Her happiness is the most important thing right now.

“I’m grabbing us drinks,” yells Sam over the music. She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder before she heads that way.

Evie steps a bit closer to you. She’s nervous but eager as she squeezes your hand.

One of the masked men jumps off the stage and into the crowd. They all yell and then he pops up, throwing himself in people’s faces. You instinctually step forward to block Evie as he darts around a club-goer and appears directly in front of you.

“Fuck off,” you yell when he pushes himself into your face. All you see is the purple-painted hockey mask and he won’t fucking move. He just stands there like an ill omen that won’t allow you to look away.

You’re about to speak, your lips and tongue forming the shape of what you want to say. Then, he disappears, as if knowing your intention.

Jade snags your upper arm and leans in, her gaze fixed on the point the guy slipped away to. “I’ll stay with Evie. Go check on Sam. Make sure she isn’t just buying us tequila shots.”

Evie reluctantly gives up your hand as you navigate the congested dancefloor. You have to twist your upper body to avoid collisions. Just through the crowd, you can just make out Sam’s buns. A man steps into your path. He isn’t looking—likely too drunk to even notice that you’re right behind him—and you step out of the way to avoid is wayward swagger.

But there are too many goddamn people, and you can’t avoid them all. Instead of him, you bump into someone else.

“Shit. Sorry. I—” You glance up. “Oh fuck.”

A wraith stands before you, all cold shadow and violent foreboding. Dark eyes surrounded by pale eyelashes observe you from behind a black balaclava. Around the mouth are skeleton teeth but they’re a tad faded which only adds to the ominous presence of this strange man. He is tall, and you have to bend your neck to see directly into his face, and that doesn’t even take into account how broad his shoulders are.

Space is non-existent. The only thing you understand about your surroundings is him. This man is a being out of hell, a creature of fire and blood, and yet you’re drawn to him. You are a pale moth, a gentle creature, and he is the pyre in which you will burn.

He takes hold of your upper arm, and his grip is strong. His strength is both a threat and a comfort. He could snap you in two, but it’s placement and how firmly he holds on to you tells you otherwise. This man is dangerous, and yet through the hardness is a softness in the brow that you recognize as concern. His dark eyes narrow, and as he pulls you closer to him, he leans in before his gaze moves to a stop over your right shoulder.

“You okay?”

It isn’t the wraith gripping your upper arm who’s addressing you. You glance over your left shoulder and meet a softer expression. Black hair cut short, tanned skin, and kind eyes. This man is completely different from the one that still holds onto your arm.

“Fine,” you murmur but realize he can’t hear you over the music. “I’m fine.” This time you project, and he nods.

“Gaz!” He turns away, and a different man holds out a plastic cup full of beer to him.

Gaz takes it and then this newcomer turns in your direction. You want to leave, to walk away, but that’s difficult when your upper arm is still in a vice grip. You shake it, trying to throw the stranger’s grasp, and make no ground. His hand stays put.

“Who’s this?” asks the newcomer, and you recognize the accent as a Scottish one.

“Some wanker ran into her. Knocked her right into Ghost.”

“Fucking hell. You good, Lt?”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, or if he does, you don’t hear him over the music. Shaking your arm again, you attempt to free yourself for a second time. Ghost still doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs you a little closer until you feel his body heat.

You hate being told what to do, and you especially hate men who cannot take a fucking hint. You try again, ready to smack the balaclava right off Ghost’s face if he doesn’t release you. But he does, and his grip is gone so suddenly that you nearly topple backward.

Acting bolder than you feel, you give Ghost your best scowl before turning toward Gaz, your mouth forming into a smile. “Thank you,” you say, excusing yourself quickly and heading toward the bar.

“What kind of a name is Ghost?” you mutter to yourself just as Sam turns around from the bar. She cradles six drinks in her arms like a newborn baby.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You reach for them, grabbing one before it tips over to spill across the floor.

“Jade sent you, didn’t she?” laughs Sam, handing you another plastic cup. “Can’t trust me after that tequila incident.”

“No comment,” you answer, making sure the drinks you’re holding are secure and won’t slip out of your grasp.

When you return to Jade and Evie, the two women have their arms wrapped around each other, swaying in a little circle, giggling hysterically. The moment you and Sam appear, Evie is pulling away from Jade, reaching for the gin and tonic you hold out to her. When the drinks are distributed, Sam and Jade have one in each hand while you and Evie only hold one.

Before this, the four of you visited four different pubs, and had plenty of drinks at each establishment. While it’s nearing the end of the night, there isn’t any reason for you to go overboard. Slowing down might be best, especially if Sam and Jade are going to double-fist drinks the rest of the night. Tomorrow—technically today at this hour—is supposed to be a spa day with some of the women from Archie’s family. Hungover is the last think you want to be while dealing with them.

As your lips suction around the head of the straw, you feel a pull, a tug toward the back wall of the courtyard. You resist the urge, refuse to look because you know who you’ll find. Instead, you suck on the straw, focus on the bite of the gin, sway your hips until the pounding beat is all you know in your veins.

But the pull won’t release. It won’t slacken. And the more and more you resist, the more it aches to not look, because no matter how startling his appearance is, it intrigues you, makes you think about how long it’s been and how you wish to be touched.

Would he keep the balaclava on? Would he take it off? And why does that intrigue you?

You start to turn, to surrender to the tug, and then snap back to reality, nearly knocking into Jade as you force yourself away from looking. The drink in your plastic cup sloshes harshly against the side but doesn’t spill over.

Evie leans in, her lips close to your ear, and she nods in the direction of the tug. “That guy won’t stop staring at you.”

“Who?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly who Evie is referring to.

“Mystery masked man.” Evie grins, her straw caught between her upper and lower teeth.

This time you look. There he is. Ghost, as his friends called him. He leans against the wall, the same small group of people surrounding him from earlier. They’re all talking, but Ghost is staring in your direction, and his gaze is locked in on you.

You quickly glance away and shrug even as a dull heat warms your limbs. “Looks like trouble.”

“Looks like a good time if you ask me.”

“Evie,” you gasp, bumping her shoulder.

“What?” she laughs, sucking up the last bit of her drink.

Jade goes up on her toes, her head swiveling back and forth. “Who are we looking at?”

Sam catches on and twists, glancing in the same direction. She’s successful first. “Oh my god.” Sam leans in until her cheek is pressed against your own. “That man is staring at you.”

“I know!” You pull back a bit, but Sam doesn’t let you go far.

She bumps your shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Hello. Have anyone waiting on you? No? Great. Let’s get out of here. You can even keep the mask on.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m not doing that.” You reach out and snag Evie’s arm. “And it’s her night. Why would I leave y’all for a hook-up?”

Sam finishes one of her drinks. She removes the straw and pops it into the other cup, doubling it up by putting the full plastic cup into the empty one. “Listen, if you won’t. I will. The guy next to him with the dark hair is an absolute snack. Even the older guy with the weird mustache is making my daddy issues purr.”

Jade’s eyes widen slightly. She nods enthusiastically. “Oh he is quite nice.”

“Right? Girl. I could take him and not in a fight.”

“Fine!” you exclaim. “I’ll go talk to him.” You turn toward Evie. “If you’re okay with it?”

Evie grins around her straw. You know what it means. Evie wants you to go because she wants to see everyone happy, but you wouldn’t call yourself excited. That heavy feeling is back, the one that feels like a new beginning.

The issue is that fresh starts are a cleansing. They are often a renewal. You think of cold water, of a slate wiped clean, but there are other markers for such things. Fire destroys but it also creates the opportunity for new life. Controlled burnings are a thing, and this man—this Ghost—can only be fire.

“I need a refill anyway,” you mutter, turning toward the bar, some of your confidence slipping.

You take a deep breath, the alcohol in your blood singing, giving you a feeling of lightness that makes your feet move of their own accord even as they want to drag. It is confounding. You don’t know what you want.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, moving ever closer to your wraith. He watches you the entire time. As you draw nearer, and your gazes lock, he straightens. Ghost pushes off from the wall like he’s expecting you to come to him. You notice the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his right hand clenches and unclenches in anticipation.

The gesture is so surprising, you lose all your nerve, walking right past him and to the bar. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s watching. His gaze is a drill, and you sense the bite of it at your back. Your palms are sweaty, and you discard your empty drink in the nearest trash bin.

You order another gin and tonic, handing over a crumpled pound note to the bartender. As you turn around, you notice that Ghost is gone. He isn’t leaning against the wall or even lingering with his friends. They’re still there, chatting away, but Ghost is missing.

Your heartrate kicks up and it’s suddenly so loud you don’t hear the thunderous pulsing beat of the music. It’s like you’re standing in a dark train tunnel, and everything is narrowing down to a single point. The crowd near the bar has grown in the last few minutes. People walk up and down the stairs next to the bar, and now that you’re actually focused on the building, you can some of the interior lights.

Evie, Sam, and Jade are out of sight, but you know they’re probably rolling their eyes, ready to question you about why you didn’t approach him. Better to accept your defeat and move on. Yes, there is a tug, a tether attached to this stranger that you cannot seem to shed, but you don’t know this person. There is no harm in not pushing this further, in moving on, and pretending you never met him in the first place.

“Whatever,” you mutter to yourself, as the roar of the music comes rushing back.

As you squeeze between two people, one of the mask-wearing men from the stage appears from nowhere. It’s the same guy from earlier. The one with the purple hockey mask who threw himself at you and Evie. You step back and bump into someone. That momentum only pushes you closer to him.

Purple-mask cages you in, lunges repeatedly like he’s going to grab you or hit you. It’s intimidating. Awful. You want to tell him to leave you alone, but the music is so loud you’d have to scream.

You step to the left to try and move around him, but he only puts himself back in your path. This time, you form the shape of a bite, ready to sting with your words, but all conscious thought leaves you the moment his hand makes contact.

He does touch. And it is not gentle.

He tugs on your jacket, then your top, then your jacket again. You bat is hand away, try to move out of range, but he is so much faster. His arm goes around you, and then he drags you in like you asked to dance.

“Let go!” You yank your arm free, but the guy still holds firm, guiding you deeper into the crowd.

Everything is hot. Tight. Overwhelming. Stealing all breath.

You pull again. “Let go!”

This time he does. This time, he disappears.

Ghost looms like a dark shadow, his hand around the guy’s neck. His palm is large to the point that Ghost’s hand easily encases the man’s throat.

“Touching a woman without her consent isn’t polite. In fact, I’ve killed men over less. How about you apologize to her, yeah?”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Ghost speak. Even over the music, you easily hear the rough, gruff timbre of his voice. It’s harsh like liquor and yet entirely smooth when it washes over your body and floods your senses.

Ghost drops the guy and he immediately bolts, darting through the crowd and pushing people out of his way. Ghost does not run after him.

Instead, he turns toward you and lowers himself enough to get close. All you see are his eyes which at first seemed dark, but now look like how light shines through a whiskey bottle.

“Did he hurt you?” The concern in his voice is genuine, and somehow that pleases you. There is a small trace of anger, but it’s fleeting, and not worthy of attention. Ghost isn’t worried about your purple-masked assailant. He’s worried about you.

You shake your head. “No.” Lick your lips. Breathe deep. “No. I’m fine.”

His pale eyelashes look like little halos. Is the hair on his head the same? Is it darker?

“You sure?” he asks, this time starting to straighten a bit.

“Yes. I just—I need some air.”

Ghost nods. “Come with me.” His hand gently rests against your elbow, and you accept it. This touch is not a threat, and you surrender to him, allowing him to lead you away from the crowd. They part easily as if on instinct. Maybe Ghost is truly that intimidating.

Ghost leads you to the far edge of the bar near the secondary set of stairs. He does not escort you down the stairs but to the other archway you noticed earlier. The security guard nods at the two of you and then you step down onto damp pavement in a little alleyway.

Your rescuer immediately pulls out a pack of smokes from the inside of his leather jacket. He selects one and then holds the pack out to you. You reach for one. It’s a reflex. You tend to smoke when you drink because it prevents you from drinking more than you need, but sometimes all you do is chain smoke and then you can’t talk the next day. It’s a terrible habit but one you haven’t been able to kick.

“Thank you,” you murmur once your cigarette is lit. He simply nods and pushes up his balaclava to suck on his own.

You try not to stare but you catch the faint hint of a long scar along the edge of his jaw. Beneath that, his entire neck is a solid black tattoo. You’ve seen them before, where people blackout parts of their body in ink. His stretches across the muscles in his neck, and when he inhales, you take note of every ripple of muscle. The strength there is astounding.

Glancing away quickly, pretending you weren’t admiring him, you clear your throat. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Ghost cannot be his name. There’s no way.

He exhales, the smoke drifting up into the air. “That important to you?”

“Yes.”

He stares at you for a moment. “Ghost.”

Fuck. Why’d you think he’d say anything different from a man wearing a balaclava out in public. It’s not his real name. That’s obvious, but you’re not sure if you want to push the matter. Yet it does make you wonder why he didn’t give you his real name.

You decide not to push it, giving him your name instead. As he exhales, the smoke fans upward to crown his head like a pair of horns before twisting off into the night sky.

“Why’d you scowl at me?” he asks, ashing his cigarette.

You run your tongue over your front teeth before speaking the lie. “I didn’t scowl.”

“But you were angry,” says Ghost, pointing his cigarette in your direction before he takes a drag.

“You wouldn’t let me go,” you counter, growing annoyed with this line of questioning.

“Someone knocked you down. You didn’t speak or look at me. And I’m the one you ran into. I was concerned.”

“For a complete stranger?”

“I’m a compassionate person.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “And yet you threatened to kill the man who touched me.”

Ghost points toward the gate, emphasizing each word with a light thrust of his hand. “The threat was deserved.”

I’ve killed men over less.

His words rattle around in your head. What normal person says something like that? The fact that he said it without fear makes you question what line of work he’s in.

Ghost drops his arm and takes another drag on his cigarette.

You should be afraid. You should walk back inside to your friends. That’s the safe thing to do. It’s the smart thing. But you’re feeling a bit bold—and a little annoyed. You want to know where this goes or if it’ll lead nowhere at all.

Straightening your shoulders, you drop your cigarette and put it out with the toe of your boot. “My friends think I should fuck you.”

It’s out of your mouth before you have the chance to think twice. Ghost’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth.

His head tilts slightly, and then turns in your direction. “What?”

You hate repeating yourself, but you’ve already said the words. You cannot take them back.

“My friends noticed you staring at me. Told me to talk to you. If I didn’t, one of them would have.”

Ghost fully shifts in your direction. He takes one step toward you. Another. There is a dark swagger there, and he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“You want to have it off?”

Yes.

“Thanks for the offer but I really should leave.” You start to step backward as if to return to the club.

Ghost must realize this because he moves like a bullet, blocking your path, planting one hand against the brick wall behind you. Your gaze falls on his hand and you notice all the tattoos. They cover his fingers and the back of his hand, disappearing under the sleeve of his black leather jacket.

“You’re taking the piss.” Ghost is smiling now but it’s not nefarious or cruel. He’s politely amused, and that is somehow worse. He leans in until you can smell the rich scent of his cologne. “You want to fuck or not?”

You swallow, desperately wanting to say yes. “I have to stay here. Can’t leave my friends.”

Ghost shakes his head and lowers his voice. “We don’t need to leave.”

The thick lust in his tone worms its way into your bones. From there, it oozes from the marrow, sinking into your blood and nerves, consuming every piece of you until your autonomy is nearly snatched from your control.

“You’re being awfully bold,” you murmur.

“You suggested it. I’m simply finishing it.”

“Don’t play games.”

“I’m not.” Ghost straightens a bit. “But I don’t want to unless you’re willing.”

He is sensing you hesitation, and it’s not that you don’t want to. It’s that you’re making excuses because that’s what you do. You step around things, shimmy by issues, and try to avoid as much as you can.

You cross your arms and pop a hip. “I am willing. But I don’t believe you when you say we don’t have to leave.”

He smirks. “So I can’t bend you over that box?” Ghost nods his head at a point behind you but you don’t even look.

“Very funny,” you deadpan.

Ghost straightens his back and his hand falls away from the wall. “This place has an underground area. Mostly employee only but there are a few back rooms where the…musical guests stay.”

“You know an awful lot about this place. Take women down there often?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Never. I like to scope a place out first.”

I’ve killed men over less.

What does he do for a living that he wears a fucking balaclava out in public and wants to “scope a place out” first? Every possibility flows in and then directly out of your head. Any of them could be possible.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself.”

He shrugs. “Up to you. Come with me or don’t.”

Ghost’s word and tone are casual, but you see the tension in every muscle and in the way he carries himself. There is a hesitation in him. A fear that you might say no. But the gin in your veins is strong, and it’s singing, convincing you to go with him.

When do you ever take risks?

“Okay,” you murmur. Then, more loudly. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Two

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

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marblejack · 6 months

Text

Watching RTGame Minecraft playthrough and Daniel's genuine fascination with vanilla experience made me reflect on how I view this game. It reminded me how I first discovered it decade ago, had the ultimate Minecraft experience of trying to figure stuff on my own (and miserably failing), then having a knowing friend behind my back teaching the basics™ and slowly getting on track from there. Surely, it's not a new game. And I feel like over the years, as I grew up, Minecraft-the-game slowly morphed into some hybrid virtual medium to hang out with friends for me. It became less of a world I get immersed in and more of an algorithm I'm really good at navigating and using its restrictions to my advantage. In a weird fashion, the only thing I can compare what modded Minecraft is to me is Hatsune Miku, an entity who functionally is an avatar with million faces and myriad stories for you to tell. In the same manner long ago modded Minecraft became a neutral base to create any game in (almost) any genre I felt like playing. It's a welcome development, but what I ultimately gave up in exchange is appreciation for simplicity of vanilla, and I became desensitized to it. Watching Daniel discover all these novelties with almost childlike wonder, I can't help but get nostalgic over how I used to see it, and how I never will be able to go back to it. That's so obvious, but so many decisions he makes I wouldn't, if I was playing. I'm probably one of those people who kept suggesting creating new world, until Daniel put effort in exploring it and discovering all those gorgeous places that I wouldn't. Seeing him roleplay and genuinely engage with the world surrounding him reminded me how decade ago I used to have a small house with a single dog on the edge of the cliff in the snowy taiga. I didn't really do anything to progress the game and was too scared to go into the caves to upgrade my tools to iron, so I tended to my little garden, fed my dog with chicken and wrote something in my only book and quill as a diary. It was all these same actions every single day, but I never felt bored. I felt isolated, but never lonely with my dog by my side, and as soon as sun had set, I was racing to my tiny hut, afraid of mobs, and my dog would feel really sad if one day I didn't return, after all. For some reason, decade later I remember everything to the tiniest detail. The layout of the house, the surrounding forest and what I wrote down back then. Since those times I had countless worlds and multiple projects, I used to speedrun Minecraft for fun and competition, but I remember so little about it all, a blurred memories of something that vaguely happened. But seeing Daniel build his tower, having beef with villagers stealing his sleeping spot, parting sea and for shits and giggles, spending two hours trying to draw a circle that functionally doesn't work for an assumption he lowkey gaslit himself into believing is true, filling out the maps of surrounding areas and looking for Bubblegum to lead home make me feel those exact feelings again. Maybe that's what it feels like to be the knowing friend sitting behind someone's back and teaching the ways of Minecraft. I never got to know what it feels like. After all, who hasn't played Minecraft nowadays?

#RTGame #Minecraft #RTGame minecraft #RTGame crowd #geometry

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bleachification · 6 days

Text

⸻ EVERYTHING IS BLUE

pairing: dabi x reader

word count: 2.2k

synopsis: when life gave you a second chance to meet your supposedly dead childhood friend, you never expected it to be in the form of a villainous encounter. your once beloved toya is now dabi—a cruel, twisted silhouette of the gentle boy he used to be.

note: includes mentions of grief and insomnia

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

There is a very famous saying: Love conquers all.

Supposedly love transcends time.

Space.

Death.

It buries sin and cures suffering, lightening the world and its burdens. It is presented with such a peculiar resemblance to what some herald as Heaven’s gift from above—a sublime feeling only justifiable by the overpowering divine or mystical. You see it in the stars; unreachable. In the sunsets and dawn; dazzling.

But you also see it in the darkness; for the act of love has made fools of many, robbing them blind of reason and humanity. It has made liars and killers—corrupted and instilled madness. And it seldom lets its victims go.

Love creates weakness.

You vowed to never let it make you weak again.

After all, the last time almost killed you. But who could blame you? Toya was dear to you. Toya was special. The closest thing to a soulmate you could ever fathom. The boy was your childhood best friend and the earliest memory of happiness you can recall. Now, that is all he is—a distant, fleeting memory that whispers of fractured promises and bygone dreams. He is never more than a nostalgic breeze tickling your skin, or a particularly bright star on an early winter night.

He exists between the lines of your past. Simply there. But never next to you. Never in arms reach.

As time passed agonizingly, you had slowly begun to forget the most basic things, such as the bright tenor of his laugh and the soft sound of his steps—sensations you used to know by heart.

Sometimes, you can only remember the features of his face by looking at an old photograph you had kept. It is one of black and white film, stained on the back and crinkled at the edges from the wear of time. In it, Toya is smiling, a small hand raised up in a wave at whoever was behind the camera. You can’t remember.

Was it your mother? His? You hope it was the former. She always adored Toya.

His left arm was slung over your shoulder and the both of you had cake and icing smudged on your faces, courtesy of one another.

That day—your birthday—is one of the last times you saw him alive.

So why on earth do you see that little boy in the eyes of a villain?

The face of a young man covered in gnarled purple scars is plastered across the city. Video footage from a high speed chase is being shown in an emergency broadcast on every single screen covering the downtown core.

His name is Dabi. Prominent member of the League of Villains. It is an organization the Pro Heroes—your colleagues—are adamantly trying to dismantle.

The man’s picture is blown up on the big screens alongside three other criminals, each involved in the chase currently carving through the city blocks.

Something about him is so familiar, but you can’t grasp exactly what.

Grief and nostalgia must be playing tricks again. To see a dead child’s face in a villain’s visage is ridiculous.

Laughable.

But it wouldn’t be the first time you had… hallucinated Toya’s image.

With a sigh, you peel your dry eyes away from the ward’s television and shut the channel off. The room is eerily silent in the late night, void of the tv’s noise. You like it. Silence helps calm the mind. Settles the chaos.

You stand and make your way out of the ward, down the empty hallway, and into your personal office. The room is clean and tidy, the only thing out of place is a stack of research papers strewn across your mahogany desk. You round the corner and settle into the soft velvet seat of your armchair before running your right hand along the underside of the table. A familiar click sounds as you locate the button and a small cabinet pops open from the left shelf.

Three bottles sit inside. Unassuming white ones with generic labels. You pop the smallest bottle open and dump a pill out. The red medication tastes like chalk as it grazes your tongue.

After a second of consideration, you take another, hoping these sleeping pills will be strong enough to stave off the nightmares and vivid hallucinations.

Hope. It’s such a small word, but also such a large one. Hope was all you had at one point. It was the only thing grounding you to a reality without him. You had hoped it was all a mistake—a joke, even. Toya would pop his head from the corner and yell: “Gotcha!”

He would be fine. Alive.

Anything but a husk of a human, burnt beyond recognition, suffocating in the flames of his own blood.

Now, hope is nothing but a pretty word to throw around when meaning is lost.

You close your eyes and lose yourself to a dreamless sleep.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

You are experiencing a startling sense of deja vu. The television glitches, interrupting regularly scheduled programming. A familiar figure appears.

I, Toya Todorioki, was born as the eldest son of Endeavour.

The world—your world freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the man on your screen.

You stand up, shaking. Then, you run. Heroes and medical staff alike shout after you, but it all fades into a blur. There is only one destination in your mind—and it is a dangerous, painful place.

It doesn’t take long for you to locate him. The city is in turmoil, buildings have been razed to the ground and rubble covers the once bustling space. You spot Shoto and his father up ahead, mere steps away. And in front of him stands Dabi—no—Toya. Your Toya.

His hair is white now, the natural color no longer concealed once he revealed his identity. The scars have spread from the last time you saw him online. No matter. You knew it. You knew it was him. How could you forget?

Enji rasps out something in disbelief.

Toya only smiles wide and responds with a sardonic confirmation. You could see it in their eyes—a living nightmare had come true for the Todoroki family.

But you? All you cared about was reaching Toya. None of them have seen you yet, so you take advantage of that by quietly making your way closer. The muffled voices turn clearer as the distance shrinks. Toya is speaking to his father and brother, words spilling out in frantic turmoil. The rawness of his voice rings through. Such intense anger and hatred cannot be faked. The two others are stricken by Toya’s address. You don’t blame them; the brutality of his language guts even you.

Shoto notices you first. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, but Toya notices anyway. Your old friend whips around in your direction. You freeze as his eyes land on you. Recognition immediately flashes across his face.

His face. You feel as though you have been hurtled through space and time, brought back to simpler days. A scraped knee on the playground. Food fights in the cafeteria. A million pinky promises made.

A kid you called your best friend, reduced to ash and bones.

These memories, both awful and radiant, wash over you with so much force you almost collapse. You silently praise yourself for keeping upright against the emotional onslaught.

“Y/N, get out of here!” Shoto yells out, urging you away in a panic.

You ignore him. Nothing else exists right now. Not Shoto. Not his father. Only him.

“Y/N.” The way Toya says your name is almost questioning. As if he can’t believe you’re even here.

You’ve somehow ended up right before him. Inches separate you, if barely.

“Hi Toya,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. It would crack otherwise.

He’s stunned, looking like the air was knocked from his lungs. Seconds fade into forever as his familiar gaze locks onto yours, searching—but for what, you can’t tell. It takes a moment for him to seemingly gather himself. The cynical persona quickly slides back into place.

“This is a nice surprise, but I’m afraid you have me all wrong. Toya is dead, Y/N. Dabi is all that is left—all that I am.”

You swallow. The air tastes of blood. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Don’t? Or won’t?

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you believe. C’mon, Y/N! Don’t tell me you still have faith in who I used to be. That kid you knew is dead. Gone forever.”

You shake your head, refusing to take in his words.

“And yet, you’re standing right in front of me… how…?” Without thinking, you raise a hand up to touch his cheek. You’re operating on instinct, not logic. It's the instinct to comfort him—just like he did for you when you were children.

But you stop yourself right before making contact with him, unsure. Toya’s gaze flits to your hand for a split second before returning to your face. There’s a question in his eyes—one you aren’t sure either of you can answer.

“Why pretend you care? It’s cruel,” he murmurs, a subtle accusation coating his tone.

“What are you talking about? Of course I care.” You answer, bewildered.

Pretend? How could he even begin to think that? When you’ve spent your entire life missing him?

“Then why did you move across the world the second you hit adulthood? You couldn’t even stay.”

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I grieved until what felt like my last breath. I left because every single second I stayed felt like reliving your death all over again.”

“And when you finally came back you were, what, healed? Moved on?” He laughs bitterly, arms spread in mockery.

“Moved on?” You shake your head, the pain in your throat almost suffocating. “I saw you everywhere. Not just in dreams and nightmares. Hallucinating a dead person… I thought I was losing my mind! Even right now I’m praying this isn’t some sick, twisted nightmare.”

He drops his arms as well as the smile on his face. “Well, you’re in luck, Y/N. This is very much real. See, I thought things could change. That the consequences meant something to them. They lived my death and nothing happened! They saw what it did to me—the power, the ego, the fucking obsession that ruined this family—and did nothing!

“He’s a disease, don’t you get it? They all are. I’m simply here to rid the world of that sickness. I’m the cure, Y/N. I’ll burn the rot right out of the earth.”

Endeavour scrambles. “Son, don’t do this! Don’t—!”

“Son? Son?” Toya sneers. “You lost that right a long time ago, oh mighty Number One Hero.”

“Toya, please.”

He turns back to you. “No. Sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but you don’t get to participate in this dance.”

“What? No, Toya wait–”

An arm circles your waist before you can get another word out, and all of a sudden, you’re being carried away at breakneck speeds.

Your screams are lost to the wind.

An explosion in the distance. Red taints the sky and fills your vision.

You have never felt so helpless.

The next time you see Toya—the little that is left of him—is at the end of it all. He is confined. Half-alive. Burnt beyond recognition. It is like he is dying all over again.

“I should hate you.”

You sit at his bedside, speaking your turn after his family just left.

Toya is… tired. You can see it in his eyes—at the lack of fire. The passionate, ambitious boy you once knew is truly and utterly gone.

But some of his kindness has returned. Or perhaps he has just accepted his fate, which is all the more heartbreaking.

“You’ve done… terrible things. Hurt so many people,” you pause, considering your next words. Three tiny things lodged in your throat, struggling to be set free into the world. “You hurt me.”

He doesn’t look at you. You’re not sure if that’s any worse than his silence.

“I didn’t think you would ever hurt me,” you whisper.

Silence drags on for what feels like the longest minute of your life. He still has not turned his head. Still has not acknowledged you. Your heart sinks. Maybe this really is it. Maybe there’s no affection left—all of it burned up with the last of his lingering sentiments.

You stand up, turning your back to him, ready to leave. For good.

“I didn’t think I would either,” Toya murmurs.

His soft voice breaks the silence—and it is overwhelming.

You haven't turned around to face him yet.

“In another life, would you have stayed?”

“I…” he swallows, voice rasping. “I don’t want to leave this life. Don’t want to leave you behind… not again.”

Tears are streaming down your face. You don’t care; you sit back down right next to him, where you rightly belong. The ache in your chest is so heavy you think it might pull you to the ground and bury you below its surface to try and muffle your misery. You almost wish it did.

Despite the pain, you muster out your next question.

“You think we could be happy?” You take Toya’s wounded hand in yours and gently squeeze, careful not to hurt him.

To your relief, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he squeezes back. It’s faint but the action is felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we could.”

And if another life exists, you are.

Undoubtedly so.

#bnha #mha #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi fanfic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #childhood friends

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gatorbites-imagines · 4 months

Note

Immortal with an immortal S/o pls(maybe where the s/o isn't a hero)

The Immortal x Immortal male reader

Headcanons

Im going off my personal headcanon that Immortals name is Abraham or Abe, just cuz its easier to write. A shorty but a goody. I was listening to old people music, cuz I kept imagining them acting like an old married couple.

Having an immortal partner would be something that helps Abes mental state quite a lot, since one of the reasons he struggles mentally is the fact that the people he loves keeps dying from one thing or another.

How you are immortal doesn’t really matter, even if it strong effects your physical appearance. As long as you can come back like immortal can, or somehow can’t die at all.

Maybe you stood by his side back during the beginning of his hero acts, back before it was called being a hero and it was just Abe wanting the best for the world and its people. But you quickly realize being a hero like that isn’t for you.

You do your own thing when Abe goes out to be a hero. You guys have both been alive for so long that neither of you really get jealous or worry too much if you don’t see each other for months. It’s nice to keep in touch though, and you guys make sure to meet up as much as you can.

Maybe you are more focused on something like the arts, performing, writing, and so on. Or you might even be more active in helping the little guy, like food banks and the likes.

Maybe you live in a cabin far away from the cities, up in the mountains where even the GDA leaves you alone. So, its somewhere Abe can come and just relax and be himself. Cue him coming back from a stressful meeting with the guardians, and he immediately relaxes when he hears the music playing from wherever you are.

You are both very old, which means your tastes are kinda dated. With you not being so busy being a hero, you can be a bit more modern, but there’s still lots of old things that make you nostalgic, and stuff you two like to do together.

I could imagine that Abe quite likes to do domestic things together the old way. Like cooking with the old tools, no modern machines or crazy inventions. Just you two, your hands, and whatever tools you guys have had since the 50s.

You guys would also dress quite old at times, even if it was on accident. People end up thinking you guys are some of those people who dress up and act out old times. It gets a little funny when you guys meet other people who do that, who all gush at how great your outfits are, unaware that it’s so good because its actually your clothes from back then.

Abe is also old school romantic. You bet he brings you flowers. You bet he still acts like he’s courting you like some kind of knight. And you bet he gets scandalized and flustered being too affectionate in public. You find it adorable though.

It’s a very common occurrence for you two to dance together. Be it in your kitchen or living room with oldies playing. Or at those clubs that are for the people dressing up and acting like it’s the 50s for fun.

You guys have most likely also been married for many many years. Way before it became illegal for two men to be married, and maybe even before marriage is as we know it now. But Abe would be so flustered thinking about marrying you again.

You can tell what he’s fumbling about since you’ve known him for so long, but its so endearing that you just let him work up the guts to propose again, probably for the 10th time in your guys long lives.

All in all, you help center Abe much more than he is in canon, since he doesn’t have to worry about you growing old and dying, or just you dying in general. He still worries of course, I don’t think he ever doesn’t worry, but its not as bad.

#male reader #invincible #the immortal #invincible immortal #invincible x male reader #invincible x reader #invincible headcanon #invincible imagine #the immortal imagine #the immortal headcanon #the immortal x male reader #the immortal x reader #invincible immortal imagine #invincible immortal headcanon #invincible immortal x male reader #invincible immortal x reader #invincible show #invincible comic

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phantomnecromancer · 3 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪Female Geto Suguru⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2.2k words Content warning 18+, nsfw, smut, masturbation (f + f), oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) geto in this fic is a woman btw! pt2 soon Synopsis

you. In reality, Geto Suguru saw you as nothing more than a convenient tool, a pawn in her intricate plans to manipulate curses and bend them to her will. While you showered her with gratitude and adoration, she plotted and schemed behind that facade of benevolence, using your devotion to further her own dark ambitions.

Note from the author Oh my god, I'm so sorry for the delay, I completely forgot about this account. I've been really eager to write a fic inspired by a female version of Geto. It seems like there are lots of fanarts but no fics about her female version, so I decided to create my own. Like I said, English isn't my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes! I really plan to keep writing for Fem Geto in the future, and I even got inspired to write more about Cult Geto because there don't seem to be many out there. Anyway, enjoy, and see you in part 2!"

―Geto suguru who was banished from jujutsu high

She is the worst curse user ever existed in the ultimate millennium

―The warm lights of the temple flickered to life. It seemed that it hadn't been in place for long; rumors circulated that the owner of the old temple frequently moved their residence. No one knew why they did it or if there was any malice behind his actions. The people didn't seem to care, as long as the burdens on their shoulders, forces they couldn't comprehend, were lifted from them. Those who visited said the owner appeared to be a very sweet person, asking for nothing in return for taking away the heavy sorrows and pain they carried.

The reason for your visit was a last grasp at hope. After consulting doctor after doctor, nothing seemed to alleviate your suffering. Gradually, you began to lose your sanity, reaching a point of no return. You felt watched, attacked, and even saw things that you knew were impossible in the earthly realm. Your pain was so intense that the thought of ending your life started to seem not so terrible.

Then, amidst the small talk of the village elders you heard about someone who, according to their words, was a god reincarnated on earth. She could lift all burdens, and her noble soul sought nothing in return. You never considered yourself a religious person; you believed it was a complete scam, a mockery of human beings to strip them of their money while maintaining a pure image in the name of a higher power. However, what did you have to lose? Your last will, crying out for a reason to live, a reason to continue existing in this earthly realm. It seemed that the location was uncertain and constantly changing, but it appeared to be on the outskirts of the village, along a road whose name you did not know.

The soles of your shoes echoed with each step as you drew closer. There was no longer any doubt; this was not the idle chatter of the old ones you had overheard a few nights ago. The temple stood before you, immaculate and serene, its presence undeniable. The fragrance of incense and sacred wood wafted through the air, enveloping you in a scent that stirred a nostalgic echo within the depths of your memory.

It was spring, the season of blossoms, and flowers adorned every corner of the sacred place, their vibrant hues adding a touch of grace to the temple's tranquility. Despite your skepticism and lack of faith in such matters, you could now understand the profound solace this sanctuary offered to its believers. The peace it bestowed upon them was almost palpable, a gentle whisper of calm in a world filled with chaos.

Now, standing before the grand wooden door, your nerves began to fray. Even in a place where the energy was supposed to be gentle and benevolent, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest. You couldn't tell if it was due to your past calamities, that darkness that seemed to follow you everywhere, or if this place simply gave you an uneasy feeling.

As you pushed the door, the creak of the wood flooded your ears, though it was no louder than the pounding of your heart or the white noise ringing in your ears. Stepping inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the temple's interior splendor. The walls were a rich saffron hue, and the corners were painted a beautiful chocolate color, so polished you were certain they were cleaned daily. Some walls were a deep olive, adorned with protective amulets. Before you stood a small staircase leading up to a dais with a sliding door. Your eyes wandered for a moment, your gaze fixed on the curling smoke of the incense placed on one of the shelves. It seemed there was someone there, yet your sight did not reveal them.

“Hello..?”

”―You spoke almost in a whisper, feeling like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs. Your hands were trembling and sweaty as you tried to dry them on the fabric of your skirt.―

Moments passed in a silence so profound that the only sound was the creaking of the wood beneath your shoes. Then, the sliding door opened, revealing a female figure. She was dressed in traditional Japanese attire, a "Gojo-Kesa." The woman was quite tall, especially compared to you, the difference in height stark and almost intimidating.

Her long hair was tied in a mid-bun, so black it could easily blend with the darkness of night. Her ears were adorned with black plug expanders, adding a distinctive touch to her appearance.

Her hands were clasped together, hidden within the sleeves of her traditional attire. She walked with such elegance that it was astonishing how she made almost no sound at all. As she reached the dais, she gracefully lowered herself to the floor, one arm resting on a red bench. A smile without showing her teeth spread across her face, radiating kindness and appearing entirely devoid of any ulterior motive.

"It seems I do not recognize your face, miss. You have never been here before, have you?"

―said the woman. Her eyes fixed intently on you, and you could feel her gaze as if she were trying to read you completely, peering into your very soul. All the while, she maintained that smile. Despite her persistent smile, which initially seemed kind, you couldn't help but feel it was turning into something more sinister. You couldn't shake the nervousness that gripped you; you wanted to speak, but your vocal cords seemed to be playing a cruel joke on you.―

Your voice came out almost in a whisper, your head spinning and feeling how your legs gradually weakened.

"N-no, I've never been here before,"

you felt the urge to escape, the air was thinning, and a pressure on your chest assured you it wasn't just your minor issue weighing you down.

"Headaches, dizziness, feeling watched, hallucinations, and paranoia isn’t it?"

she said, the smile creeping never leaving her face, almost as if she were mocking you. Her purple eyes stared at you as if finding amusement in your distress.

"H-how do you know that?" ―you stutter, your hands now clasped tightly in front of your body. ―

"Come closer to me, darling." her voice flowed like honey, contrasting with the mocking tone of her voice. Her hand gestured for you to approach her, her body still laying lazily towards the bench.

The sound of your shoes echoing on the polished wood was the only thing audible in the room. Her eyes never left yours, making her intimidating, yet her physical allure was undeniable. You had never felt physical attraction toward a woman before, especially someone who, with just a gaze, could make your stomach tighten and your head spin.

Her arm lazily lifted, as if she were swallowing something with her hand. Gradually, the heaviness that had been tormenting your shoulders began to dissipate. Your eyes widened in shock, a look of utter disbelief spreading across your face. Meanwhile, the woman's expression turned to one of satisfaction as she held what appeared to be a yellowish orange crystal ball.

"Better?" she says with a satisfied smile on her face, as if she knew and took pride in her powers. It was as if she saw you as an inferior being to her, as if you didn't matter, an empty shell.

You felt completely liberated, the weight on your shoulders finally gone, and that feeling was enough to overshadow your doubts and fear of the intimidating woman before you.

"How..?"

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

―Weeks passed, and it seemed you couldn't stop wandering around the same place whenever you could. You were so grateful to that woman that you felt you owed her your life. Her kind smile always thanked you for the small gestures, or that’s what you thought. Whether bringing incense or flowers to decorate the temple. You even stayed to clean and polish those chocolate-colored wood floors you adored so much.

Geto detested you, hiding that with her usual kind smile, applying sanitizer whenever she could, when you weren't looking or after you'd left. Yet, in her own words, you were the best-behaved monkey she'd ever seen. It seemed you genuinely believed she had made that gesture to help you, to help others, and to lift that weight from their shoulders. The reality was different: absorbing curses to store them and use them to her advantage for her new world.

"Miss Geto, I brought flowers! Where should I put them?"―

You say happily. almost adorably, holding a bouquet of lavender, Geto's favorite. Her gaze returns to you, briefly eyeing your petite figure, that fake smile without using her teeth that she usually gave you. She shifts her usual posture, spreading her arms to point with her finger at a white vase adorned with blue decorations.

Happily, you place the lavender bouquet in the vase, your smile never leaving your face. You even came often to pray, spreading gratitude to the strange woman you believed enjoyed your presence. You are so foolish, thinking she enjoyed those little conversations you had with her or thought well of you. She saw you as nothing more than a mere toy to be used, just a simple monkey and nothing more.

As you sat down to pray as usual, your knees on the floor, you cursed yourself for wearing such a short skirt. It rolled up to your thighs each time you bow your head to the ground, showing those white panties that you carefully chose every day you went to the temple, like she was going to see them. The thin fabric barely covering your puffy folds that were already soaking wet— poor baby It wasn't your fault— she just looked so pretty every time and you couldn’t resist yourself. You just wanted to catch her attention. You wanted her to see you, to know you existed. You lived for her praise and that small smile that tugged every time you remembered her favorite flower or her favorite scent.

You didn't know why you felt this way; you had never felt any physical or emotional attraction towards a woman before, but with her, it was different. You wanted her to see you, your heart pounded every time you saw her arrive or whenever her eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer.

And for mere seconds, you felt her gaze. Your head was on the ground, hands placed in front of you, and you deliberately shifted your hips forward, causing your skirt to lift, revealing the view of soaked panties, showing the thin fabric almost completely transparent with how wet your core was. You could feel how everytime you shifted yourself to sit down the friction in between bows, leaving a wet strip of juices all over the floor.

This action did not go unnoticed by the dark-haired woman, and for the first time, a slight smile crossed her lips. Her purple eyes carefully examined the girl's figure. Of course, she noticed your advances, every time you blushed when she looked at you for more than a few seconds, or when she gave you empty compliments but your eyes seemed to sparkle every time she said them.

I wouldn't lie to you; she didn't deny finding the power difference over you fascinating. You might even seem adorable to her in her own way. She might even consider you deserving in her new world—the only monkey she wouldn't mind having by her side.

When she saw you innocently stand up after pretending not to notice that you had done that just to get her attention, a small smile graced her lips. You innocently adjusted your skirt, and it seemed you didn't even bother to wipe that spot in the floor where your wet pussy grazed.

As usual, you bid her farewell with an innocent smile, lifting your head to meet her gaze, hands clasped together as you bowed slightly. Your eyes eager to take in every detail of the girl, hoping for her usual smile in return.

——————————————————————————————————―――――――

—She didn't deny it; she had spent a long time doing absolutely nothing since leaving the academy. Her world was her only priority; she needed nothing else, and nothing would give her more pleasure than the outcome of a world without monkeys. However, in the darkness of her room, it seemed to be the opposite.

Hand pressed into her sensitive bud, her index finger doing circular motions as she cupped one of her breasts pinching her nipple. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her mouth slightly open, and her back slightly arched. She felt ashamed to stoop so low—how could she, a monkey, wield such power over her? Days had passed, yet she couldn't stop thinking about her. She couldn't understand if it was her lack of intimacy in these past 10 years or simply falling for her charms. It was pathetic and it made her entire worldview shift—everything she believed was right, that mental state and opinion she had taken so long to accept, reduced to a mess of moans as she put two digits into her pussy pumping in and out. She could feel her walls clench more with the thought of her tongue inside your pussy, drinking your sweet juices. Her fingers finding that sweet spot that could make you see the stars in mere seconds. Her mind raced as she remembered you bending, showing that pretty cunt of yours, only serving to feed her thoughts further.

Note author : This fanfic almost made my head explode! I'm the biggest hater when it comes to multi-part fics, but I swear I even fell asleep with the laptop on my legs. I hope to finish it soon, hopefully within this week, and not take a whole month just to complete one part.

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deathbxnny · 25 days

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Soo do you remember when Boothill came out, so many people (me included) compared him to Arlechinno and say that he’s “genderbent Arlechinno” despite being literally the opposite of her?

Can i request Boothill with an Arlechinno!reader as a twin sibling?

Context:

Boothill and the reader are twins and they are the absolute opposites despite they’re similar appearances. One is loud and brash while the other is quiet and stoic, one is a normal kid while the other is for some reason cursed? No one in their little family knew why or how the reader have a curse but there wasnt much they can really do about it. Regardless, Boothill and the reader are as thick as thieves, never seen without the other. But then the IPC came and blew up their planet which finally seperated the two twins. The reader somehow survived bc of their curse but now they sometimes glitch (like how Arle does in her idle animation). Now the reader nor Boothill knows that the other survived for a while but then they bumped into each other and you can take the reins from here

Hope you have a lovely day/night!

(Somehow im in a Boothill fever.. i blame Nicholas (DanHeng’s VA) for his damn Boothill song)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Oooh, I really love this idea, Flower Anon!! I have to admit, though, that I struggled writing this so bad, so I'm sorry if it turned out horribly.

Thank you otherwise for your request and sorry it took so long!!<3

Content: Platonic relationships, twin sibling reader, angst, vague mentions of Boothills past, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

The summer we died in. (Boothill x Twin!Reader)

"If I didn't know yer so well, I would've maybe been shocked to see you alive." Your brother's southern drawl shook memories awake in your mind. Memories that had been left slumbering in the fields of your old home, under the warm sun and in the tall grass. And yet... you didn't feel anything.

"... I suppose I could say the same thing about you -" "-Boothill. That's the name now." You hum dully as you crossed your arms and turned your head away from the confused Trailblazer in front of you to look at him. You had come to Penacony for business, or rather revenge, only to be dragged into its mess on accident. You therefore didn't expect to see the remnants of your formerly dead brother standing before you.

But could you even consider him alive in the state he was in now? A blurry image of what he looked like once came to mind, yet melted away just as fast. You didn't actually remember how he looked like anymore.

"Boothill then."

Silence filled the air, the tension thick and suffocating, yet neither of your gazes faltered. You just... didn't know what to say. There was a time in which you'd childishly dream of seeing him again, the way you'd throw yourself into his arms and then return with him to your families farmhouse. You'd act like nothing happened, become the siblings again that you always were.

But the realisation that it was all just that, a dream, made you press your lips together in the near... disappointment? You should've known better than to become so disillusioned from everything, and yet the reality still hurt you deep, deep down, under the endless layers of your curse.

"Uhm... my apologies, but you know eachother?" Robin asked carefully, seemingly saying exactly what your other companions had been thinking. Your gaze thoughtfully shifted around the twisted yet nostalgic landscape of the dreamscape, not knowing how to answer. You knew eachother once. But now? You weren't sure. You had never met "Boothill". And your brother, therefore remains dead.

Said man scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh yeah, that's my twin -" "-Reallyyy??? You guys don't look nor act alike at all!" March gasped out, only to be quickly hushed by Dan Heng and the Trailblazer. "... Hah, did ya hear that? Things never change!" Boothill grinned at you the way he used to, another memory of pranks and mischief under the moonlight filling your head again, which you just waved away. "Some things don't. But most do... How did you make it?" "Always so straight to the point." Your brother's grin widened as his relief and excitement began seeping through at last. His shoulders relaxed, eyes crinkling with a familiar spark you found yourself nearly stepping away from.

"But let's just say I'm after the same man you are." Ofcourse he'd know exactly what you were in Penacony for. You were one in the same when it came to your wrath. You wanted revenge for your lost family and for eachother, unknowing of the others' fate beyond death. You would've found it funny if you could have felt anything at all.

"Right." You didn't want to know more than that yet. "How'd you get in? Doubt you swam in that lil' pool all the way here." He hummed, which made you tilt your head. Why was he so casual? Why was he acting like neither of you had died? That both of you were together all along throughout the years you missed? It was bizarre and yet so awfully fitting. "... Remember the curse?" You held up a clawed hand that glitched through the force of the dreamscape. You couldn't remember what made you gain this ability, having woken up this way after the catastrophe. But it came in handy in moments like these.

Robin raised a hand to her chin. "You... were able to bypass the dreamscape and just enter it?" "Yes." You replied, and Boothill chuckled at that. "Wish you got that sweet ability sooner. Would've helped us out lots during the ol' days." You stared ahead, nearly through him. Was he trying to cope with your appearance before him this way? Was he trying to deflect the realisation that he wasn't totally alone after all? You didn't know what to think.

"... Let's go together. I overheard your part of the plan from the Trailblazer, and time is running out. If we want to defeat Mr. Sunday, then we have to get going." You said, voice as intimidating and cold as it used to be. It seemed to snap everyone out of their confused daze as they proceeded with the plan. Boothill met your gaze amongst the general commotion of your companions quickly speaking over eachother before taking their own respective leaves.

You stood there, seemingly stuck on how to proceed, which felt so out of character for you. You were used to ordering people around, intimidating them, and demanding the near impossible. But here you were now, speechless and hesitant. Did this perhaps hit you harder than previously expected? Boothill just tipped his hat and led the way automatically, another memory flickering of him doing the same during your nightly pranks. You'd sneak out and hop over the wooden fence surrounding your home to bother your old, grumpy neighbor. Those days were always so warm, the summer heat seeping into the night that began to cool off on your skins.

Those days never seemed to end. It was never cold. Always warm, scorching warm. Burning, flames, smoke filling your lungs and then total destruction.

"-Remember that day? The last one." Yes, you did. It's all you thought about during your travels. It's what fueled your revenge. You said nothing in reply, but he didn't mind. "It was warm. Last day of summer they said but it didn't feel like it to us." The false night sky of the dreamscape stretched out over the extravagant city. You looked down on the dreamers who decided to live a lie rather than face reality. There was a time in which you'd find them pathetic, but now you see yourself in their crowd, gazing right up at you with an equally as unreadable face.

"It was the summer we died in. So I guess they were right. It was our last day." He loaded his gun and raised it to the sky, his body turned away from you. The bright lights below illuminated his sides, hair flowing in the wind whilst the hat covered his eyes. It was a foreign image, one you couldn't recognize. "Why... are you like this?" You asked after a moment of consideration, but what you really meant was why he didn't even feel affected by you being alive all along.

Yet then again... you didn't know if you felt anything either.

Despite your differences, you were the same deep down, he was right there too. And deep down, you realized too late that you weren't the same you used to be either. Death had taken you both. You weren't siblings here. You weren't related at all. The only thing connecting you was his shadow you stood in. But even that did little to shake you physically.

"Because it doesn't matter anymore who died that summer." He shot the flare into the air, hundreds of lights beginning to fill the night sky soon after. He looked back at you with a wild, unrestrained grin. "What matters is that we get the revenge we need for the dead, ain't that right? That's something your serious behind would say, at least."

You couldn't help but dully chuckle then. It was barely heard, so weak he could've nearly missed it, but he didn't. Stepping up next to him, out of his shadow, you gave him the faintest smile.

"You're right, Boothill... Let's get revenge for those who died that summer."

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr boothill x reader #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill

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linghxr · 9 months

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My 2023 in Mandopop/Chinese music (update & recs)

It’s been too long since I last shared some music recommendations/updates on what I’m listening to! Admittedly, I haven’t been discovering as many new artists because I’m busy listening to 薛之谦 on repeat. But we'll focus on the new.

You can check out my Spotify playlist featuring these songs (plus bonus ones). In addition, I’ve included YouTube links below.

五月天 / Mayday 五月天 is a legendary band, so of course I knew of them and had heard a few of their songs over the years. But I never proactively sought out their music until recently. I still haven’t had time to dive into their back catalog, but I’ve already found some songs I really love.

《我又初恋了》 I actually really didn’t like this song the first time I heard it, but it wormed its way into my brain. It’s just a lot of fun! Non-serious songs can be good too.

《转眼》 My favorite 五月天 song <3. I’m probably too young to fully appreciate the lyrics, but they make me feel so nostalgic and bittersweet, like transitioning to a new chapter of life and leaving the old behind.

《因为你所以我》 This song didn’t stand out to me at first, but it grew on me! I caught myself humming it a lot. It‘s kind of corny, but it sounds so full of hope.

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan I first started listening to 陈奕迅 a couple years ago after my Album a Day August challenge, but I’ve found that his music has grown on me over time. I believe I’ve only mentioned him once before, so I thought now was a good time to highlight my favorite of his songs.

《之外》 This is probably my favorite 陈奕迅 song. The lyrics convey a sense of hopelessness, but the overall song has a smooth, light sound.

《娱乐天空》 You know a song is good when it’s over 6 minutes long but feels like it flies by! It makes me want to get up, get moving, and be productive.

《烟味》 This song is dramatic, and I love it for that. Also has a hint of orchestral flavor.

《淘汰》 One of 陈奕迅’s most well-known songs—for a good reason. It has big Cpop ballad vibes but is definitely livelier.

白举纲 / Bai Jugang You’re going to notice several mentions of 披荆斩棘 in this post. That’s where I “met” 白举纲. I instantly liked his voice and loved seeing him with his “brother” 高瀚宇 and “dad” 张晋! You may also see his music under his English name, Pax Congo.

《被动失控》 This is the only song on the list you could headbang to.

《Shy Boy》 I love this song because it’s cute and includes a children’s rhyme that I learned as a kid: 找啊找啊找朋友找到一个好朋友.

苏诗丁 / Su Shiding At some point last year I did a one-month free trial of Apple Music. It was an interesting experience because the recommendations were very different from what Spotify tends to show me. I’m glad Apple Music led me to 苏诗丁!

《LUCIFER（傲慢宗罪）》 All I can say is that this song exudes coolness and confidence. It also has a fair bit of English, but honestly I had to look up the lyrics to tell what some of it was.

《梦幻病》 This song is from the same album. It’s dreamlike but gets more frantic as it builds. Overall, it’s just a bit…unsettling.

队长 / Young Captain I learned about 队长 from a random post on Instagram about his concert in Malaysia. I think these songs might have gone viral on 抖音 or something. I was surprised I liked them so much because they both have some rap (I’m not a rap fan), but it was love at first listen.

《11》 I love how this song builds towards the end. I spend the whole song waiting for the crescendo, and it’s great payoff.

《楼顶上的小斑鸠》 This song is like the slightly mellower sibling of the one above. But I ended up liking this one even more.

金志文 / Jin Zhiwen 金志文 was another artist who Apple Music recommended to me. I definitely need to explore his discography more but haven’t had the chance to do so yet. But he has some good stuff so far!

《自娱自乐》 Smooth and relaxing but in a fun way. Simple and no-frills but will put a smile on your face!

《远走高飞》 This one feels like enjoying the breeze on a beautiful sunny day. I also enjoy the duet with 徐佳莹 version.

163braces 163braces started out as a YouTuber posting song covers. I have watched a couple of her covers, but they didn’t leave much of an impression on me. I was pleasantly surprised by her foray into original music. I look forward to hearing what she does next!

《控制》 The song I would want as my “soundtrack” if I were a video game character. It’s energetic and loud.

《murmur》 Honestly this song is pretty similar to the first one. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing them. But hey, if ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

小鬼 / Lil Ghost 小鬼 did what I can best describe as “pulling an MGK” by going from more rap to kinda pop-punk? That MGK album was my guilty pleasure when in came out, so I’m all for 小鬼’s new direction.

《Last Day》 This song really gave me MGK vibes. It’s about half in English, but I often don't even notice when he switches between languages.

《不良少年》 I just know I would have loved this song so much in high school. It’s an angsty teen anthem.

《为明天写封信》 I can totally imagine this song playing at the end of a 2000s teen movie! Maybe while showing a montage of the main characters graduating.

《无所求必满载而归》 by 陈粒 / Chen Li This is technically cheating because I have recommended 陈粒 songs before, but it was at least a couple years ago. I heard this song covered on 披荆斩棘的哥哥 and immediately looked up the original. Honestly I should have known it was a 陈粒 song because you can totally tell it’s her style.

《轻红》 by 曹杨 / Young I keep coming back to this song! It’s from a drama soundtrack. I was super surprised the first time I listened to it because I thought it was going to be a typical ballad based on the first ~45 seconds or so—it wasn’t. There is also another version by 陈雪燃 (the king of cdrama OSTs). But I actually prefer the 曹杨 version.

《时光机》 by 吴克群 / Kenji Wu I was introduced to 吴克群 via 披荆斩棘2. He was instantly one of my favorite contestants after his team’s amazing 《新地球》 performance (check it out). This song is bouncy and a little dreamy. I kinda want to hear a remix with Harry Styles’ As It Was. I just wish it were longer than 3 minutes!

My Spotify Wrapped

I have a tradition of sharing my Spotify Wrapped, and I wanted to continue the streak in some form. So here's a quick rundown.

Top genre: 华语流行音乐 Representative city: Taipei Minutes: 21,750

Top artists

薛之谦 / Xue Zhiqian

林宥嘉 / Yoga Lin

五月天 / Mayday

李荣浩 / Li Ronghao

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan

Top songs

《木偶人》 - 薛之谦

《狐狸》 - 薛之谦

《骆驼》 - 薛之谦

《转眼》 - 五月天

《后来的我们》 - 五月天

Also, fellow Mandopop fans should check out the Mando Gap newsletter. I stumbled upon it this year, and I know it’s going to be a great resource for discovering new artists in 2024!

#chinese music recs #cpop #c-pop #c pop #mandopop #chinese music #chinese #mandarin #mandarin chinese #chinese language #studyblr #langblr #learning languages #language learning #chinese langblr #mandarin langblr #languageblr

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