#like yeah its hot but would it kill you to at least write your shit in character

[allthatdivides2]

just watched the new hunger games movie and i want to talk about it so bad but i went in the tag and its all fucking x reader fics because they cast snow as a prettyboy blonde twink 😭😭😭

[feligayzed]

WRITING JUMPSCARE 💥💥💥

This was a short little drabble I scribbled up a HOT minute ago when I first saw the nefarious "destroy painter" screenshot, along with Zeal's comment about how Sebastian would kill you without thought....or something along those lines you get the idea

The first and only time I've written in 2nd person 😢 sorry you are NOT kissing the fish

Once again I don't do endings ENJOY

Wc: 582

You're walking down a hallway when a vent pops out of the wall. Subconsciously you're expecting a remark from Sebastian, beckoning you inside, but the soft-spoken words never come. The absence of the greeting unnerves you, but you're familiar, so you don't hesitate to duck inside the vent.

He's not there.

You're dumbfounded. He's always there, coiled in the corner of his shop, his findings neatly displayed along his flank. Always. You know of the mutant's obsession with data, and you've got quite a haul, so why-?

You're barely half a step inside when you're wrenched off your feet, a haggard gasp forcing its way from your lungs as you're slammed up into the wall with remarkable force.

"Let's ditch the formalities, yeah?"

Static swims in your vision and you can feel yourself fading, but a sharp backhand to the face jerks you back to reality. Instinctively you reach up to coddle the sting, but the stunned gears in your mind suddenly start churning. You're dangling. You're choking. Your hands instead fly to the massive fist straining around your neck, feet scrambling for purchase. The effort is futile.

Sebastian's face is inches from yours, jagged teeth bared in a snarl. Scales scrape against concrete as he repositions his long serpentine body, tail lashing dangerously behind him. His third hand twitches for the shotgun at his side, but he doesn't draw it. The space is suffocating. You're trapped.

"I know who you are, and you know what you did. Are you satisfied? Do you feel accomplished? Do you feel vindicated, that it was a righteous decision, that he deserved it, so why should you feel guilty?"

His voice is laced with venom, a gutteral growl rising in his chest. The pinprick of claws in your neck is hardly noticed as a primal fear jumpstarts your heart, blood pounding in your ears. What is this about? Who?? Your terrified mind races to put together the pieces, what the hell could have made him react like this. The fucking computer....??

You open your mouth to get a desperate word in, but his fist clenches tighter, cutting you off completely. His eyes flash cold and lethal, and you see now that there is no humanity left in his feral gaze. At least not for you.

"You're fucking pathetic. You, and all the other desperate pieces of shit they sent down here. I should slaughter you all. Right here, right now. I'm tired, Expendable. Sick and fucking tired of granting you all politeness. Why should I? Why should I, when all that you are is a disgusting, worthless, undeserving sack of shit they could easily get their greedy hands on.

You're nothing. No one will miss you. No one will wonder about you. No one will be here to clean up your bloody mess. I'm going to tear you apart, limb from fucking limb, and I'm going to relish it. All this talk of mercy, it's all bullshit. You're going to rot down here, and I'm going to revel in the knowledge."

In a jerking motion too fast to register, you're sent sprawling onto the dusty concrete floor. White hot pain bloomed down your sides, and distantly you knew your ribs had shattered. Unfortunately that was the least of your concerns. His bulk moved to block the vent you came in from, and you slumped in defeat as any hope of escape bled out through the punctures in your neck.

"Eat shit and die loser." The End!!

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF

So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)

Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..

Which we can all agree is boring...

BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!

We be getting creative with it

Eg.

"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"

"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"

(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)

AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL

English could never compare ✨

BUT ANYWAYS

how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?

The eay their face would drop

We would make a couple of people cry

AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US

Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*

Your thoughts?

Love yaaaa~

ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!

Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??

I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-

like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.

I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see

Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️

GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE

and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,

😭 BRO IM CRYING

“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-

(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)

idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,

OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-

OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???

everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,

or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot

or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao

STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)

AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:

“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)

JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG

STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol

oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭

Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀

“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND

Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”

which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG

☆

i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth

which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]

which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!

☆

Safe Travels 0rah,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[doubledown]

Yall already know the drill no MLM fetish people as for minors go while I'd prefer you not to interact I cant control what you do

So this is abit of a specific fic for a certain someone ( you know who you are pooks 💕 )

The reader is Latino with a brown complextion feel free to imagine them in whatever shade you want

The reader will be male and masc terms will be used for them

Some Spanish will be in this used in this fic but a translation with be provided so dont worry about havin to go to google translate

This will most likely be around 2 or 3 parts depending on my motivation

ALSO I HAVE NOT WATCHED THE MOVIE so uh if its not like canon him I'm sorry 🧍‍♀️

Degration, Hook up, Hand job, Public Sex, Cheating, S_lf h_rm ( not described implied tho ), HEAVY Voice Kink

HEAVY on criticism. Trying out a new writing style since I noticed that the one I currently due really doesn't stimulate my brain enough which leads to writer's block. SO YEAH LMFAO HAVE FUN ( P.S THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITEEE AND IT IS KINDA LONG SO SEAT BACKK AND ENJOYYYYYYY )🧍‍♀️

-------------------------------------------------------

Your mama says I'm a fool

And yeah, maybe that's true 'cause I can't

stop thinkin' 'bout you

I'm tryin'

I'm tryin' not to forget my words

'Cause when I'm around you, I tend to keep

changin' my mind

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Miguel murmered as the smell of heavy whiskey and cheap liquor crowded around him. He wasn't a drinker at all. He hadn't even thought about it. Well.....not until today. Everything was just going to shit. So he figured he drown himself in something other then self destruction and exhaustion. At least this would kill his worries for awhile after all what's the point of multiverse travel if you couldn't do somewhere where you were unknown? A place you could simply escape without anybody finding you or judging you for your actions. Nobody to put a strong and dominate front for. Just simply unknown and out of touch. " What's on your mind to drink tonight? " The bartender asked abit of a friendly smile on his face. Miguel honestly didn't know what to choose so he just said the first brand of liquor that came to mind. " Just a few shots of fireball.." He said resting his arms on the bar. " Alright hot shot your drinks will be ready in abit. " The bartender said quickly soon off to go take other orders while simultaneously making drinks. He couldn't say he wasn't impressed in all honesty but he had seen it done by failedly by parker. He always tended to try things that really didn't suit him. The bartender looked up and Miguel heart almost sunk in his chest when he spoke. " Buyin a drink or did ya miss me y/n? " The bartender asked leaning over the bar giving a peck on the lips to you.

He couldn't look. He wouldn't look. Yet the gentle rumble in your voice was something that always had a hold on him. " Why not both? " You teased catching onto your lover's lip in your teeth before letting go with a smirk. " You know what I like cariño. " [ darling/dear ] Cariño. Cariño Cariño Cariño Cariño...Even after years away from each other the word still made him his heart burn. Just the way your accent just drove him mad was something that he couldn't even begin to explain. Yet he knew it wasn't his place to feel that way nor right. You two were seperated now. But he wished that things had gone very differently.

" Miguel......Surprised to see you here. " You said your tone neutral but he could feel the hiss of anger in your eyes. You two broke up on a rather...messy note. Things were just too much and miguel wasn't excatly helping with being fuckin spider man and shit. You didn't- No. You couldn't do it. You weren't gonna live in fear that somebody may one day hurt you because they may have followed him home or some shit. So you suggested he retire from doing the whole superhero thing. And he didn't at all take it well. The two of you argued about it for days which turned into weeks. Things were said and one thing led to the other and soon you two weren't even remotely related anymore. He choose people he didn't even know over you. And it stung like hell. But you moved on and forward. And to see him in such a low state....it....it messed with you abit. It brought back some things that you really wished you had buried lower..

" Y/N. It's nice to see you again. " He said with a small smile. You had always been rather...eye pleasing to put it appropriately. Everything just fit so perfectly on you. Every feature on your face to every hair on you head was completely and utterly put together so...Intoxicatingly. And your voice....fuck your voice.... " Ah Im guessin you guys have past? " The voice of your lover pulled him away before his thoughts had a chance to tip off. " Yeah. He's an old friend. " You said simply without bothering to look at the other man. You already you tired from work and really didnt want want to deal with your partner gettin all pissy that your ex is here. " Just a shot of jack daniels Mí Corazón. " you purred. [ My heart ] You knew what your voice did to Miguel. You know what you could gain from him just with a few soft I love yous or just simply saying his name the way he liked. He was a slut for words. Literally. And you had no sympthay for him left in you to care. After all it seemed more like a personal problem then anything. Sucks to suck.

You sat down next to Miguel resting you arms on the bar slightly leaning just enough for that slight arch in your back to show. It was wrong you knew that. Quietly seducing your ex while your partner was right in front of you. But after all you had to return the favor. Finding those texts from all those different guys. You wondered how many times he had fucked some guy while on shift. More importantly how many of them were here now. Miguel was weak when it came to you. He always had been. And the way he shifted in his seat when ever you spoke or the way he seemed so dazzedly focused on your features only proved that he still was a little whore for you. But you weren't gonna simply just give him what he wanted. No. That be too merciful. He needed to beg. Like bitch in heat. He needed to beg like fucking him was a need. Like he couldn't survive without you stuffing him full of what he knew craved.

Miguel cleared his throat and diverted his eyes to his drink as the bartender brough back his drink. " I didn't know you were into liquor. " You said with abit of a curious tone. When did he start drinking?? He always had hated the smell of alcohol at least you thought he did. He used to get onto you about drinking all the time goin on and on about how it could mess up your liver and such. Yet here he was puttin his feelings into a cup. Crazy how things change. " And I thought you didn't fall under stress. " He muttered taking drinking it down in a quick motion. He gagged slightly before swallowing a rather displeasing look on his face. " What? The bite too much for you amor? " [ Love ] You snarked a teasing smile on your face. " No. It's just stronger then what I'm used to. " He mumbled clearly embarrassed by his own reaction. The wound between you too was still fairly fresh. Even more unattended then you both thought. The dismissed jab from Miguel only just proved it.

You swished your drink around not even really wantin it in all honesty. It just felt all surreal and awkward having him around. It just didn't feel natural anymore. And you hated it so fuckin much. Your thoughts were brought out by your rather oblivious boyfriend giving you a kiss on the forehead. " Hey sorry to interrupt you in your space but I gotta head out for a bit. A friend from work needs help movin some furniture. " He said with a smile. " Don't worry about the bar ken is already gettin ready for his shift. " He continued giving you a finally peck before leaving. So that's how he did it. He made a lame ass excuse and left before he could be asked questions. Huh. It was the only thought that came into your mind. At this point feelin guilty was out of the picture entirely. After all if he could go have fun why couldn't you.

You leaned up slightly your left hand grazing the other's thigh as he stiffened. He looked at you confusedly and you simply looked at him for permission. You had always been abit of a fan for open things. It obviously took him a minute to realize what you wanted to do and the clear surprise look on his face almost made you laugh. Yet odd enough he moved his seat abit closer to you despite it. " Hm. Seems like somebody missed old times. " You hummed to yourself teasing his cock through his jeans. He shifted in his seat as he rested his hand on his forehead trying his hardest not to thrust up for attention. You slowly but carefully unzipped his jeans and the entire time the poor man was figiting in his seat. " Desperate much? " You murmed loosely as you teased the head of his swollen cock.

He huffed sharply as he shifted his weight toward your as you wrapped your pretty hands around his cock and pumped it at a rather fast pace. A small whimper came from his throat as you stroked him precum dripping as your pace became relentless. He put his head down on the bar ledge his one hand covering his mouth trying so hard to quiet his soft rambles of pleasure. He twitched and pulsed as what seemed like hours to him as his responses simply got harder and harder to hide. At this point he was pratically mind numb with pleasure and being a whiny mess of a man. Yet you weren't done with your pretty boy just yet. Things were simply getting started.

[itsohh]

The Engagement

A/N: Female reader, I’m calling them parts even though its a series and not a multichapter fic. Feels good to write some angst. Floreance and the Machine was good. Encore was the best part of the concert ngl.

Summary: In the middle of a mission, Simon picks properly the worst possible time to ask you a rather important question. 

Word count:  1519

Warnings: Angst, injury

AO3 Masterlist Series Masterlist

Sometimes missions went well, all according to plan with little problems. Quick and easy. In and out. Five minutes gain intel, kill some people and get out. In other cases, things went poorly. Intel could be wrong, there could be more people than expected. There had been the odd time that the blueprints supplied were out of date. Unfortunately for you, out of those two options, this situation was the latter.

Communication was hard it hear, static breaking through every order, every command. Only the briefest of words could be heard through them. Jammers. "Captain?" Gaz's voice was a shout next to you and although you heard him next to you, his voice never came through the com.

"What do we do now?" He turned to you, keeping an eye on your combined surroundings. Cover allowed the pair of you to talk.

"The missions a bust, fuck. We have to hope that Soap managed to complete it. For now, we head to extraction."

"Copy."

Gunfire consumed the air and slowly but surely the pair of you made decent time to the extraction point. It was certainly far too hot for a proper extraction but you had hoped that the others would at least regroup with you there. When you neared a crackling broke through your communications and you heard the sound of your Captain's voice.

"Captain!" You ducked down behind cover, Gaz following your lead. "Captain, can you hear me?"

"--- Copy --- Gaz?"

"With me."

"Good --- extraction --- Ghost --- hurt --- south ---"

"Negative sir, repeat?"

"--- Half a klick southwest --- extraction---" With a roar of buzzing the Captain went silent.

"Captain? Captain?" No reply.

Scoped in, Gaz peaked over your cover to examine the estimated location that Price had spoken. "It's on the other side of this hill, if we can get to it the hill will act as cover for a heli." You nodded at the man.

"Right, let's get to extraction then."

If one thing could go right it was probably the best thing that could go right. Just as Gaz had said, on the other side of the hill a chopper lay in wait. The pilot was there with another person next to him.

"Good to see the pair of you. Was a mission on its own trying to get ahold of anyone." The pilot welcomed the pair of you aboard.

"Yeah, there's a bunch of interference, we think someone is jamming." Gaz spoke while the pair of you attached yourselves to a tether.

"Have you heard from any of the others?" You leaned over the seat slightly to look through the front of the helicopter.

"Negative, not since we had the initial call."

"Shit, any exspected ETA?"

"Negative again Doctor. We have cover here for extraction but I doubt for long."

"Hey, I think I can see them!" Gaz's voice had you snap back and look through the open side. Two figures were tight together while another covered their back. A few blinks and you were able to make out how Ghost leaned on Soap while Price was behind them. Right away from the posture, you could tell that Ghost was injured.

"Fuck!" Immediately you started to prepare. Scissors and emergency bandages were pulled out of your medic pack while your mind turned fully into medical care mode as Gaz and Soap helped Ghost into the chopper. "Lie him down, Gaz strap his leg in. Exit wound Soap? Any other wounds?"

"Negative, still in his lower torso. He's lost a lot of blood." True to his words, blood covered Ghost's shoulder and chest as well as his hands and Soap. "It went right through his vest. Sniper."

"Help me get him out of it. I can't see with it on."

"On it." Like a well-oiled machine, the pair of you removed his vest and you promptly started to cut away his shirt underneath.

"Bullets still inside Ghost, don't know how deep but I need to stop this blood flow." Your focus was completely on your partner- no, patient. So much so that you didn't notice the chopper lift off the ground or Price's concerned gaze. Light strained gasps were muffled through his mask were all that he could manage to get out.

"What I'm going to do is wrap you up okay? Going to stop that blood flow so we can operate when we have more blood." You tore your eyes off him to glance at Soap. "Help me angle him for a second. This needs to go around him." Something akin to a groan rumbled from Ghost’s body as the pair of you lift him off the ground slightly, just enough for you to slip the bandage around him. There was a sudden movement from Ghost as his hand snapped out and wrapped itself around Soap's wrist. “It’s okay Ghost, we will put you down in a second.”

Yet Ghost didn’t let go. “Lay him back down.” Your eyes could only afford to dart between the two men for a second, needing to secure the bandage. With what little strength Ghost had, he pulled Soap's hand towards his chest, their eyes having a conversation.

“Don’t tell me you actually…” When Ghost didn’t let go of the man, Soap let out a curse under his breath and his hand went to the front pocket of his pushed-aside vest.

“John?” Eyes flashing up you gave him a confused look.

“This- he.” Soap swallowed and opened the small box and there sat a metal band. A small simple ring with engraving on the inside. “He wants to marry you.” What. You froze for a second. Simon was asking you to marry him? Your mind was transported back to when the pair of you had been joking about it, just months ago. A hypothetical he wished to make into a reality. He wanted you to be with him for the rest of his life, someone to love and cherish. To spend every waking moment by your side. That fact circled in your mind. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

...

The rest of his ever-shortening dying life! You snapped out of your frozen daze, wide eyes as you forced yourself into your focused state again. Any longer could have killed him.

“Are you serious Simon? No. I’m not accepting a proposal from Soap.” You pulled the bandage sight and finished securing it. “Do you think my medical skills are that piss poor that you're going to fucking die? No, you're living Simon and then you can ask me yourself.” Your voice hissed, passion in your eyes. There was anger but not an anger that could be described as mad. You were scared, terrified of losing him. Simon was acting like he was already gone, that this was his final moments. There would be no tomorrow. No more waking up in his arms, no more cheeky dark jokes under his breath. No more late nights watching the world go by. No more holidays together, warm and safe in the comfort of your shared bath. No more staring into those beautiful and expressive brown eyes of his.

Yet you couldn't accept that. Couldn't accept what he had decided. You hadn't spent all those years becoming a doctor only for the most important person in your life to die in your hands. He would live, he would see tomorrow. He would ask you to marry him with his own mouth, in the privacy of each other's company. Mask removed and smile full of heart. Simon would be there at the end of the aisle and Price would deliver you to him.

Gaz would cry and Soap would tease him but follow suit. Simon would retire with you every night after. Right there at your side. Exhausted but happy to be in each other's company. Perhaps one day in the future one of you would go on a mission and never return or perhaps the pair of you would grow old together, retire and be a pair of grumpy old people, still so in love after so long of life together. Yet he didn't think that dream would come true. Simon thought he was going to die here. But no he wouldn't, you had decided he was going to live and god help anyone who implied otherwise.

Ghost's body shook, just a tad. Barely noticeable at all and for a second your eyes scanned for any other wound that you had missed. That was until you realised he was laughing. The hand that had previously been around Soap's wrist, reached for you. His blood-stained gloves graced your face, a kiss of contact. One that stained your face crimson with his fleeting life. And he continued to shake, continue to laugh. Expresion hidden away behind his mask but with eyes so gentle and full of kindness. A look only ever reserved for the pair of you. Laughing ever so slightly as his eyes slowly closed and didn't open up.

[whatwedointhecraft]

Writeblr Interview Tag!

Thank you to @dearunreliablenarrator for the tag

I tag @waltzshouldbewriting @violetcancerian @watermeezer @cherrybombfangirlwrites and anyone who wants to do this

Short stories, novels, or poems?

All of them. Its fun and good to practise having a variety

What genre do you prefer reading?

I love fantasy as my main, but my second favourite is crime/ true crime and things like Agatha Christie

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Both. I like to have a variety so I can get stuff done and not stress about some fun projects whilst outlining the serious ones that need a lot of work

What music do you listen to while writing?

Mostly musicals, right now its Wait For Me/Reprise from Hadestown, and then there's things like Linkin Park New Divide and Numb

Favorite books/movies?

Favourite books: Any Agatha Christie, Skulduggery Pleasant or A Good Girls Guide To Murder the trilogy

Favourite movies: Lilo and Stitch, Monsters Inc, Pirates of the Carribbean, Inside Out 1 and 2, Shrek 1 and 2

Any current WIPs?

Keep The Peace is part of my series Amongst The Chaos, an adult fantasy slice-of-life supernatural series where its a bunch of characters living in the city of Nottingham, and meeting up at various places to get together and talk about events that have happened in their lives as they live amongst the supernatural - e.g Angels. Demons, Ghosts and the like and their reactions to the chaos.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

jogging bottoms and a lilo and stitch t-shirt or a game of thrones t-shirt, stich trainers, a stitch handbag and a sunflower lanyard.

Create a character description of yourself: 

Fat non-binary person really into eating and crafting and loves to dye hair different colours, cannot see for shit without glasses and cannot drive.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Yes and no. All my characters are original, but sometimes my mother will suggest 'oh, write about our family, your nephews, the cats' ect and to be honest with you, ive never figured out how to fit them in, so i dont.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Oh yeah, absolutely. I will kill whoever I want to, whenever I want to. I'm not afraid to get violent with the deaths, but I gotta do it justice

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Tea, Hot Chocolate or different juices, depending what's in my reach and i'm interested in.

Slow or fast writer?

It depends on how motivated i am, when im not in writers block i can write 2k within like 2 hours

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

Everything - the books i read, the games i play, the music i listen to.Bad writing pisses me off real bad and I know I can do better

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

A librarian or writer completely done wih the city being destroyed by the supernatural but being really intrigued and trying not to die.

Most fav book cliche:

I cannot answer.

Least favorite cliche:

curing disabilities. like fuck off with that shit, give them their aids back and we dont need to cure autism, we're fine the way we are

Favorite scene to write?

all of them, i just cannot pick one thing i love. Its just... the whole process of writing that I love and I wouldn't change it fot the world

Reason for writing?

Because its a part of what makes me, me and i wouldnt have it any other way. I am a writer, its in my blood. I enjoy the creation, the creativity, the uniqueness of my own voice

[ghouldtime]

As a fellow writer that tries to bring a little more variety to the COD tag, I just wanted to say thank you for talking about the problem in the fandom!

I only saw one other person other than me talking about it, and honestly, I was almost starting to think that I was the weird one for judging the romanticisation and fetishisation of abuse when so many people enjoy it.

Like, I'm all for writing whatever you want, even terrible topics, but... sensibly? I genuinely don't understand how someone could write about rape or abuse without treating it like the awful, disgusting thing it is.

I often get told that I just want to have the 'moral high ground' and that's why I say that, but that's not the point at all. We all enjoy characters that have done some questionable stuff, starting with the cod men themselves. I'm just... worried I guess, about how many people find abuse enjoyable to read.

I wish people would at least tag this stuff properly.

Anyway, sorry for ranting, I'm glad I found your blog! 🖤

Oh the anon coward crawled back into my inbox to flail onto their back and utter, "Superiority complex". That's it. That's all they have to say. What about it? Who knows. I'm assuming they're trying to imply that I have one but they didn't write anything else, so I'm just going with they like saying random words (going to start anon messaging people things like carbonated hot dog water with no context to leave them befuddled the rest of the day)

It's a HUGE problem that I've seen and I'm honestly sick of it. I legit can't open the basic tags without being hit with it. No matter what or who you block, more ALWAYS pop up. I'm not saying flat out "Don't write these topics altogether". Like, COD is a video game about war and killing people?? There's going to be awful shit. Ignoring that entirely is doing a great disservice and censoring writing just because a topic is uncomfortable is extremely counter productive.

Also, adding this, I literally never said don't write it at all - to the anons who came for me, you're just mad because you can't read and are being called out on turning something horrible into an attractive/hot thing.

I'm saying "write it sensibly with respect for the topic and the victims of it. It's not a fetish it's not something for you to play the good ol' meat fiddle too. Real thing that affects real people and what you're writing, even if it's fictional, DOES AFFECT THE REAL WORLD". Literally, not that hard. So what if I'm told I'm taking a moral high ground? Cause I, sorry let me put on my reading glasses-🤏 👓

I have the moral high ground because I don't fetishize rape, abuse, incest, sexual assault, stalking, and the other long list of actual crimes that people are apparently treating like they're kinks - because I'm saying to not treat them as sexy time things and to instead give them proper respect when you're writing them. That's supposed to be moral high ground???? If so, I'm alright with that.

You're not the weird one. This is just common sense and sometimes terrible things are so normalized in fandoms that it's just one big echo chamber so it keeps being said and done, and people keep repeating it, and it spreads and spreads. Like, I'm not the weird one for going "hey fantasizing about a man abusing a woman and finding it so attractive you write about it and turn it into smut is weird." At that point, that's not an intrusive thought, that's a WELL AND CONSCIOUS decision when you plop your hand down and start typing away at the keyboard. It's a conscious decision when you ignore the actual harm it causes and keep on writing it.

"Write whatever you want" doesn't mean that what you write will be free from judgement. I'm all for write whatever makes you happy, I don't give a shit there. But when it starts to affect ACTUAL people, yeah, then we have an issue and I'm going to speak up about it.

Also, I can't "Don't like don't read" BECAUSE ITS NOT TAGGED PROPERLY, no one censors properly. The mature censor for SEXUAL CONTENT is absolutely free to use. Half the time, you're just thrown head first in and you're like "oh, oh this is fetish stuff, this is really gross fetish stuff". Its just so blatantly posted, no proper tags, just flat out in your face. I just avoid tags all together now unfortunately but what else can ya do. It's exhausting to interact and look in that regard so I just don't

My blog will ALWAYS be free from that and will ALWAYS be a safe space for those who want to avoid it. Not going to change that nor am I ever going to back down or go back on my word here.

Sorry for all the heavy stuff recently y'all but this MATTERS significantly to me as a victim of some of the stuff aforementioned above. I'm not going into details but it's a thing very personal to me and it's absolutely INSANE of what is treated as okay/what is done and I'm never, ever going to be okay with the incorrect depiction of this shit and the blatant fetishization/romanticization of it

[blubushie]

hiii u know who this is ;3 i have abad questions!!!

do u feel older or younger than u are?

whats ur favorite thing about urself?

if u could tell ur younger self anything what would it be?

would u rather float alone in space or float alone at sea?

what if aliens invaded the planet and they were hot

what bug have u eaten the most of (by accident?)

whats ur most justified paranoia?

if u had a year to live what would u do with it?

whats something u hate?

what keeps u up at night? (besides the obvious)

what do u do early in the morning when u should be sleeping?

whats the worst pain uve ever felt?

how high is ur pain tolerance?

whats the worst movie uve ever seen?

whats ur favorite piece of clothing?

whats an unpopular opinion u have?

whats ur earliest memory?

do u sing when ur alone?

we know uve taken them, but have u ever saved someones life?

what tattoos do u have?

Heh I do know who this is!! I've missed your lists :]

Do you feel older or younger than you are?

Probably younger. I'm 23 but more immature than my father and siblings were at my age. But I prefer calling it a "zest for life." ;]

2. What's your favourite thing about yourself?

Steady hands.

3. If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be?

Not everyone is trustworthy. Trust your gut.

4. Would you rather float alone in space or alone at sea?

Alone at sea. Waves are calming and help me sleep. Some of the best sleep I've ever had has been at sea.

5. What if aliens invaded the planet (and they were hot)?

I'd clap some alien cheeks, obviously.

6. What bug have you eaten the most of (by accident)?

Flies.

7. What's your most justified paranoia?

Everyone's out to kill, hurt me, or take advantage of me.

8. If you had a year to live, what would you do with it?

Return to Australia and immediately go bush so the government can't find me. Let me die out there where I belong.

9. What's something you hate?

Dumb teenagers who speed and/or tailgate. Also people who overtake and don't use their fucking indicators. But especially teenagers who speed and those that think speeding is cool/skite about speeding. Yeah, yeah, it's fun to go fast, do it when there aren't other fucking cars on the road so if you crash at least you only kill yourself instead of both of us. I've got places to be and I'd like to get there with my anatomy intact, cheers.

10. What keeps you up at night?

Memories of that time I was kidnapped and interrogated heavily for sixteen hours.

Also groceries. "You gotta to the shops tomorrow and get milk, and stop at the servo and get petrol, and-"

11. What do you do early in the morning when you should be sleeping?

Sleeping. I actually have a pretty healthy sleep schedule. I'm 23, my arse cannot pull all-nighters like it used to.

But if I'm not sleeping, I'm writing. Or lying in bed and trying to sleep.

12. What's the worst pain you've ever felt?

Toss-up between scarification for indigenous initiation ceremony and being partially disembowelled by an angry pig. The scarification was slower so the pain lasted longer and was worse mentally because I knew it was coming the whole time so had more than enough time to scare the shit out of myself, but I'd argue the Pig Incident was actually worse on the overall level of pain. Feeling something sharp moving inside your body is a special kind of weird.

13. How high is your pain tolerance?

Tolerance? High. I feel pain easy but I'm good at fighting through it and not letting it get the better of me.

14. What's the worst movie you've ever seen?

Pan Man. It's fucking hilarious. Terrible plot-wise and budget wise, but perfect in its hilarity and execution. It's my favourite "so bad it's good" movie.

15. What's your favourite piece of clothing?

Necklace.

16. What's an unpopular opinion you have?

Beer tastes better as tinnies over bottled. So does fizz. I don't know why but the carbonation holds better and it tastes more... crisp? It's just better.

17. What's your earliest memory?

Lying in a hospital bed when I was three, staring up at the lights in the room, because a plastic surgeon just sutured my left eyebrow back together after I fell face-first into the coffee table and busted it open. My mum was at work and my dad was supposed to be watching me, but he was on the phone and I was jumping about on the couch. She still hasn't forgiven him. The scar's not even noticeable unless you're close enough to see the lines of the stroma of my irises. So unfortunately I don't have a "cool" eye scar like the blokes do in the movies.

18. Do you sing when you're alone?

If I know the song and it's in my range and I'm in a good enough mood, yes.

19. Have you ever saved someone's life?

Yes.

20. What tattoos do you have?

I have a dingo tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. Sometime soon, maybe around the start of next month, I'm looking to get Kaz tattooed on my outer forearm from elbow to wrist.

[banjjakz]

"oh shit someones already figured it out" hehe i saw right through ur tricks LMAO just thought that gloomy yandere shoko would b Very hot (oh pretty neurotic woman w eyebags... u have captivated me). that was my argument. that one meme that says "my pussy has led me to places i wouldnt even go with a gun" HAHAHA

and abt final girl thoughts... squeezes ur gojo in my hand.... hes so dear to me, in all of his charming asshole and eldritch horror glamour. no cuz the way he chuckles and grins while demeaning reader !! he is not driven by pure love but by deeply rooted obsession, and its only suguru whos at its core- not reader. i love how neither gojo or reader respected each other despite their interactions taking place in the "gojo route". sure it is an otome route but you get no sweet lovin at all! you get literallyreduced to shreds, dissolved into particles scattered across the universe instead! sighs dreamily. anti-otome final girl fanfiction written by banjjakz youre so dear to me........

btw the gojo dsm comment took me out LMAO kinda unrelated but i know psychologists would NOT b welcomed in the jjk world lmao. the stigma around mental health matters between non-sorcerers pales in comparison to how a mental health professional would b treated by a higher-up, for instance. supposing ur goal is to have young sorcerers manage their negative emotions so that they dont go mental and die before they turn 18 then youre unfortunately getting executed for sabotage at best... i remember reading a yuuta fic in which it was mentioned that he had seen a psychologist after the rika incident. makes me wonder if thatd mean hes learnt (within that au) lets say breathing exercises and if he practises them whenever he gets anxious. every other sorcerer watching him like: https://www.tiktok.com/@androidg1rl/video/7291743972991503649

anyways sorry 4 rambling lolll thanks 4 writing final girlll loved it smmm and will be waiting for the secret endings eagerly :> !

no truly like serial bereavement was written for yuuta fans sure whatever but the actual intended audience is the #real sick and twisted individuals with a penchant for off-putting women who lowkey look like they'd be into consensual vivisection

"anti-otome" why am i obsessed with this label LOL wow this is really high praise anon like thank you???? crying.... we are inventing new genres of fiction over here..... just another day on banjjakz.tumblr.com

as for gojo's route, yeah, to be quite honest i can't in good faith imagine him in any lifetime or in any universe with anyone other than suguru. not even in a sappy stsg otp way, but like, just going off of my own personal notes of his characterization.... to me, pairing him with someone else -- even a self-indulgent MC -- would be egregiously out-of-character LOL. this was actually a point of writer's block for me as i was drafting final girl. like, i knew i wanted to tackle satoru. but i also knew there was no way i could convincingly or ethically produce a route where you were the object of his affections. had to take the cowards way out and have him kill you, lol, but at least we get lore? (more will be revealed in the final updates... i promise...)

KJHKSJDK mental healthcare in the sorcery world is actually insane like let's focus on physical healthcare and increasing the life expectancy first maybe

also if you'd like to slide the link to this therapized!yuuta fic.... [eyes emoji]

[valleynix]

I'm up to date 🥰 chapter 24 ✅️

1. 《Everything had been so… calm.》 That's dangerous

2. Pain💔😔 But well I'm biased. Miranda’s behaviour is a bit confusing tho, with how she almost killed them and then was nice and then put them in the Megamycete (tho she says it was to keep them safe. But well, not sane). She's a bit lost but like, she tried to be nice 😭 maybe there's still a chance 😔✋🏻

3. I LOVE THEM PLEASE

They're so silly and sweet. It's so nice to have Lunatic watch over Reader now 🥺

4. Miranda’s literally Reader's (evil) fairy godmother, watching them their whole childhood to ensure they'll grow up so she can experiment on them 😭

Now can she follow Maleficent and love them and save them please

5. Miranda I'll hold your hand while I tell you this, it won't work

6. The conflicting feelings are so real. Like sometimes as we learn more the situation turns out to be so far more complicated and complex

7. AAAAAAAAAAAA I always love those hugs in tptm

Also the moment when Dani joined and hugged them both and poor Cass was trapped 😭❤️

8. SOBBING this is so beautiful and that "I want you to live for me" hits hard

9. 《"Good." She sniffles a little as she glares at you. "Because I will find you in the afterlife and I will bring you back just to kill you again."》

I love this woman <3

10.

11. 《She’s so awkward that it’s almost sickening. How can someone like her be so bad at flirting?》

I love my loser, awkward Cassandra. My fav Cassandra out there.

12. It'd be wonderful news if it was their head bc even Red themselves could easily cut their own finger to do that just so they were thinking they're dead

But if it was this 《If Miranda had done it, was her leaving a finger her way of a truce? Hm. Maybe-》 then yay cool. Miranda out there leaving snacks and fingers of Reader’s enemies and like "are we good yet, little bird?"

13. Nice to have some peace after all the horrors of the previous chapters. At least it's balanced 😭 It was all so sweet. The Dimis being happy Reader’s back and Lunny being there.

The peace will end soon, probably, it can never last too long. So I'm awaiting the continuation and the horrors. It's good to be back at reading and it's good you keep writing it 🫶🏻 It's not a light story but tptm always brightens up my mood and the plot is so cool. It deserves to be the top re8 fic fr

SO EXCITED TO READ THIS. i’ve had a shit day and this just made it sm better ❤️

1. calm is never a good thing 😭

2. she’s trying </3 we have to remember that she’s very unsure of what to do and where to go from here. she’s been snapped out of that “trance” she’s been in for YEARS and is seeing the errors of her ways. not that she’ll ever apologize, but she’s trying.

3. THE SIBLINGS EVER. my favorite duo

4. yeah… she is a little fucked up 💀 but! at least that meant she could recognize when she was going too far… haha… ha…

5. Miranda, poor woman… listen to reason 😭

6. it’s hard knowing that someone is horrible and has done bad things to you, but then they start acting kinder?? and it’s genuine? and then you’re like… okay maybe i was wrong…? it’s very confusing and conflicting but it’s how a lot of people feel when faced with similar situations

7. MY FAVORITE HUGS. being in that group hug would fr cure me of all illnesses.

8. i was so afraid this scene wouldn’t make sense :’) because Cassandra is not a super emotional person and for her to cry?? she was so upset but i wanted her to be mad that she was showing how vulnerable she was 😭

9. romance at its finest

10. HER!!!

11. she’s such a dork and we love her for it LMAO

12. 🌝🌝

13. it actually won’t be TOO bad for a hot minute… the next chapter deals with some stuff and plot but it’s also got funny and soft moments. the heartbreak will come much later with- no, i shan’t say…

thank you so much for allowing me a peek into your mind as you read. it genuinely makes me so happy to see your favorite moments or ones that stuck out to you ❤️

[frosteee-variation]

man, i suck at coming up with questions. uhhhh. tell me about one of your ocs

anon you don’t know what you unleashed with that comment and that comment alone /lh /j

ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK A HOT SEC I. AM GOING TO WRITE A LOT. YOU ASKED FOR ONE BUT CHANCES ARE I MIGHT MAKE A FOLLOW UP POST TALKING ABOUT THE OTHER ONE BECAUSE THEY’RE BOTH TIED TOGETHER STORY-WISE

okay okay okay okay. so. so. technically the closest thing i’ve got to “true” ocs and the ones who i haven’t talked about enough on here are the sacares. cinis and vindi sacare. and dear god do they have a lot going on with them. holy SHIT do they have a lot going on with them.

so so so so SO for context as well they’re being used in a roleplay thing I’ve got going on with some friends where it’s like pretty much an isekai ig but a) I’m not that versed in anime and b) everyone’s from different universes and they’re all fucked in one way or another so spoiler alert they both die but we’ll get to that

So the Sacares. Like, as a whole. The Sacares were this family/order of paladins, right? Monster hunters. Their whole deal was serving the goddess of luck by maintaining the natural sort of “balance” of their plane by taking out unnatural threats that were kind of like invasive species almost. The undead. The eldritch. Demons. Things like that! Sort of things that would bring misfortune in one way or another.

Anyways, the Sacares were pretty damn renowned. Like, high-status. Near-noble. Which figures! They have a reputation! They’re very strict with training and such!!

So Cinis Sacare was one of the newer generation. And combat-wise? He was pretty good! He used a greatsword and was pretty unwieldy, but he had grit and charm and ended up becoming something of a figurehead for the Sacares socially. He was the guy who you saw in the street and recognized, and it usually meant good fortune when you did. I mean, there could be monsters abound, but also he could have just been going for a walk. He was a chill guy overall, y’know? Devout paladin, but also just sort of a goofy fella and that made him a pretty great conversationalist.

So one day the Sacares got word of this eldritch plant-thing going and taking over a town’s crops. Like, TAKING OVER. Imagine like invasive kudzu but if it had vines as thick as a redwood’s roots and was both spined and also had hints of Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors. Not fun. Luckily though, they’ve dealt with these types of things before and go in a group to face it. They go and observe the place for a while, try their best not to disturb anything or trigger any sort of reaction out of the plant. And they do pretty well!

unnnnntil cinis, having been told his entire life that he’s pretty much The Guy of All Time™ and is virtually unstoppable, decides that it would be a GREAT idea to just cut to the chase and start striking the thing.

Cinis realizes way too late that he is! VERY unprepared!! And he dies!!! The first time, at least. Stay with me for a second.

You know cordyceps, yeah? Zombie ant fungus? You know how useful it would be for a big eldritch carnivorous plant to have a part of itself walking around that could actually kill things without having to wait for them to come to it first? Especially something with a massive cleaver of a weapon, training, and armor? Pretty useful!!

So Cinis gets zombified. Ish? I don’t know where that one post is about necrobotany using plants and such to fill in for muscles and such but that’s what happens. He’s still left with his sentience, though. It repairs him and pretty much holds him to “kill things and feed them to me or die for good/kill us both” sort of deal, and he’s stuck in that situation now. He tries to go to the Sacares and go “hey guys I’m alive actually” but he immediately gets exiled so now it’s just sort of a bad situation all around. He revokes his weapon, picks up an old woodcutter’s axe in its stead, and heads off to wander for a while.

Now, being held together by bone and bark are uh. Not. Really good. For the state of you. Not wanting to bring harm to others, he mostly sticks to the woods and outskirts, still fighting monsters because it’s a) all that he really knows and b) he still wants to help people despite everything that happened. And I mean, it’s a compromise? The plant’s fed, he’s not eating people, it’s alright for the time being. He dons a cloak to hide his identity alongside the slow decay and starts being seen as this sort of “monster in the woods” legend. He doesn’t mind it, though. (he actually kind of does it’s just that he’s of the mind that he’d be the same way if he was faced with himself and instead internalizes the whole thing while continuing to try his best)

Anyways, this goes on for. A while. A good amount of years. He gets a reputation, but nobody ever bothers to actually get to know the guy. Because. Y’know. Flesh-eating plant zombie. Most of him more vine than human at this point, to the point where he’s like 7 feet tall because a) the sacares are pretty fucking tall in the first place (like 6 feet) and b) it’s a little hard to keep human proportions when you’re. y’know. again. a monstrous plant.

So one day he walks into a village. He’s started doing this on occasion, just rarely. Just to trade things and check up on people on all that because he still cares. More jaded, less sociable, definitely more intimidating, but it’s not like anyone would recognize him as the dead Cinis Sacare, yeah? And it’s not like anyone’s going to bother him if they worry that he can maul them, so we’re good.

But actually!! Just kidding! Someone caught word of his presence in the woods because he lingers around those areas for a few weeks in general and gathers an angry mob to take him down! Specifically, a Sacare does it! So everything’s kind of fucked and he can’t really get out of that situation and he dies a second time!!

Andddd that’s where the whole roleplay bit comes in so he’s back but like. Somewhere else. And everyone’s also just as fucked and wholly unfamiliar with his world’s deal so they’re just sort of chill with him because to them he’s this weirdly tall dude who may or may not be made of plants who also said one time that if they wanted to see what was at the bottom of a mountain that he could “probably make that” with no explanation whatsoever.

He’s still a little goofy. He’s still pretty compassionate! He’s just. Ough. Man’s seen all of The Horrors. But it’s fine probably because we’re all doing this for character arcs with our OCs and hopefully we can find a solution to. All of that.

either way i love cinis sacare he’s so so so silly to me <3

[writethrough]

Hello ^^

I saw that your requests are open, so if its okay may I ask for a Eddie Munson x reader? In which reader is trying to escape Vecna but the music stops, so Eddie continues it by singing it for her?

Track Two

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Warnings: Vecna, mutual pining, angst, mean Eddie for a hot sec

Word Count: 2863

A/N: Holy shit, I did not think I'd get this done before the new year. Thank you so much for your patience! This is my first Eddie fic so I really wanted it to be at its best! I loved writing his character and I look forward to doing more in the future. I hope you enjoy!

*featuring "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac*

You had just returned from your accidental visit to the Upside Down. After Steve was pulled in, it didn’t take long for the rest of you to follow. You hadn’t thought it could be more frightening than the first time you were there, but you were wrong. The red flashes of thunder, the vines covering nearly every surface, the knowledge that Vecna could pop up at any minute? It terrified you.

You’d never been so thankful to be back in Eddie’s trailer. Still, your second home felt far from that with the gate in the ceiling.

You had to focus on the positives: you were all safe, relatively—Max was nowhere near out of the woods. Eddie was with you—you could tell he was on edge, but when he met your gaze, he seemed to relax a little. At least he wasn’t alone in that boat house anymore. And you were on your way for supplies. If Vecna wanted to try and take one of you, you weren’t going down without a fight.

Eddie sensed that you were going too deep into your thoughts, so he knocked your knee with his.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, leaning close, his shoulder touching yours.

The corner of your mouth tugged upward. “They’re worth a nickel, actually.”

He whistled. “Wow, inflation’s no joke.”

You giggled—leave it to Eddie to make light of a dire situation.

“There it is,” he said softly, glancing from your mouth back to your eyes.

You rolled them. “Yeah, yeah, you and your dumb jokes.”

“I thought that was pretty clever.” He pouted.

You pushed your shoulder against his lightly. “Wasn’t bad.”

He pushed back. “So, you gonna tell me what’s up?”

You sighed. “Just…thinking.”

“Don’t,” he urged. It still surprised you how well Eddie knew you, even after all these years. It was like he could read your mind. Which, given that El existed, isn’t too far-fetched.

“Can’t help it.” You gave him a sad smile. “Not when all this shit is affecting you now.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll both be. Long as we have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah.” You tried to sound convincing. “We’ll be fine.”

He wished he could wipe the doubt on your face away. But this wasn’t one of his campaigns that he could erase and start from scratch. This was…This was unbelievable.

Your head tilted, eyes narrowed as you stared at the RV wall.

“(Y/N)?” Eddie asked. “You okay?”

You inhaled sharply, not daring to look away.

“I see it,” you whispered.

His brow furrowed. “See what?”

“The clock.”

—

You had stayed in the RV with Eddie and Dustin, trying to keep your hands from trembling. They tried to convince you everything would be okay, that they would kill Vecna before he could touch you. But their voices muffled as you lost yourself in every scenario.

When your group had piled back in, it was decided you’d make a quick stop at your house to pick up your favorite song and cassette player. None of it registered, though. You were too consumed with your imagination to hear anything they said.

You pulled up in front of your house, both of your parents at work. Eddie led you, Steve, Nancy, and Robin through the front door. Nancy had ordered the kids to stay there. She knew your dad kept survival tools in the basement and figured it couldn’t hurt to have a few more weapons and maybe a first aid kit.

She and Steve went to get that stuff as the rest of you went to your room.

Eddie was hesitant to leave your immediate side.

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly. “Look at me, please?”

You did. Those pretty brown eyes did little to warm you like they usually did.

“We’ve got this,” he said. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

You nodded slowly, not quite believing him.

“Hey,” he grabbed your hand, “I mean it.”

His hand in yours drew you back to reality. He always had this innate ability to make you feel better—to make you feel like you weren’t alone. It was one thing that never ceased to impress you. He had never not been there for you.

“Thank you,” you said. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His lips tilted up slightly. “I do.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head.

“You’d let me take the fall for the murders.”

Your eyes narrowed. “...What are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “If you didn’t know me, you’d believe I was the one who killed everyone. You’d think I was a murderer, too.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, Eddie. I could never think that. Not even if we weren’t friends.”

“You can tell yourself that, but it doesn’t change the truth,” he said, sliding his hand to your wrist.

“Why…Why are you saying all this?” You wanted to rip your arm away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to stay put.

“Because it’s the truth,” he said. “Even if you’re not ready to acknowledge it.”

His voice deepened.

You blinked.

And when you opened your eyes, your room was gone. Eddie was gone.

And Vecna had taken his place.

—

The beginning of your senior year was a week away. The beginning of Eddie’s second attempt to graduate had him anxious. And when that happened, he fidgeted. And when he fidgeted, it was usually through your stuff.

“I need to get you some real music,” he said, pushing aside whatever cassette he was holding.

“I need to get you some real taste,” you quipped, glancing up with a smirk.

He faced you, hand clutching his chest and mouth agape. “Ow!”

You giggled. “Just pick something! You may like it.”

He scrunched his nose. “I may have to if your stash doesn’t get any better.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint tapping of cassette case against case created a rhythm. You were unconsciously moving your foot to it when it stopped.

“Now this, I can get behind.” He held up one of your Fleetwood Mac albums, promptly putting it in your stereo.

“Play track two,” you said, closing your eyes.

The opening notes to the song filtered through the air as Eddie lay beside you, arms brushing.

“You ready for next week?” he asked quietly.

“Physically or mentally?” You turned your head to him.

He shrugged. “Both.”

“I guess. Just not ready for what comes after.” You were always comfortable around Eddie. He didn’t judge you for what you wore or how you acted. You told him everything. Well, almost everything.

He didn’t need to know your feelings for him. They were better kept in a box deep within your heart. You didn’t need to complicate something that was already near perfect.

“I get that,” he said, lying on his side. “I just hope I’ll have those anxieties with you.”

You gave him a soft smile. When he got the news about repeating senior year, he was more frustrated than you’d ever seen him. He wanted to get out of Hawkins, make a name for himself besides “The Freak,” and play music for whoever would listen.

He had come to your house afterward and worked himself close to tears with his head in his hands. You didn’t know what to do, so you talked to him about everything you’d do together as seniors—how you both had another year to be “kids,” so to speak. And that seemed to calm him down. He was just happy he had you with him, a thought he would express many times throughout the coming school year.

“I’ve got you, Eds,” you said, squeezing his fingers.

He gave you a grateful smile. “I know.”

—

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eddie panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked as she and Steve arrived in your room. Your whitened eyes were enough of an answer.

“Get her song!” Steve urged, looking at Eddie already searching through your music.

He let out a string of curses. “I forgot she told me she needed a new one!” He held up the cracked cassette. You accidentally dropped it when switching it out and didn’t have the heart to throw it away before you got another.

“What do we do?” Robin asked.

“Does she have another favorite song?” Steve moved to help rifle through your collection.

“She’s literally been listening to this for years! I don’t think she knows other songs exist!” Eddie said, gripping the roots of his hair.

It had been on whenever he saw you. If it came on while you were hanging out in his room listening to the stereo, you turned it up. You threw it in when he’d pick you up. The only reason he knew the song was because of you. The only reason he could sing every word of it was that—!

Eddie scrambled to get as close to you as possible. Standing so he could hold your biceps and look into your whitened eyes.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“I’m gonna sing it,” Eddie said, trying to pump himself up.

“Do you think that will work?” Eddie could hear the doubt in Nancy’s voice.

“It’s the only shot she has,” Eddie said.

This was his best friend. The person he went to with his campaign ideas, when he needed comfort, or when he passed a test—really anything. You had always been there for him. No matter what was going on in your life, if he needed you, you were there. Now, it was his turn.

This had to work—he had to save you. He didn’t want to imagine how he’d make it through life without you. You were it for him. He had a feeling since he spotted you in the hallway wearing a Black Sabbath shirt. Then, he knew for sure when you cussed out Jason Carver for being “the dumbest douchebag with the longest stick up his ass” when he wouldn’t quit harassing Eddie.

His time with you was his favorite. Whenever you weren’t around, he wondered when he could see you again. He’d do anything to make you laugh. He’d do anything to protect you.

He inhaled deeply, slowly nodding to the beat in his head, and then, he sang.

“Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom…”

—

Red lightning flashed all around you, Vecna’s voice the thunder.

“It will be over quickly,” he said, the wet squelch of his feet getting louder.

Vines tightened around your wrists and ankles, pulling you taut against the trunk of them behind you.

You tried to surge forward, to rip them off and run, but your muscles burned, and it hurt to breathe. This was it. Vecna was already so close. There was no way Eddie or the others would save you, especially without your song.

You wanted to smack yourself for not replacing it. You would die because of one little choice to leave it to another date.

At least you got to spend your last few hours with Eddie. Even if it was preparing for Vecna, you still got to be near him—you got to talk to him one last time. You only hoped he’d remember you as you were and not the broken pile you’d be once it was all over.

You hoped his name would be cleared, he’d graduate, and he’d live out his biggest dreams. And stay safe. You just needed him to be safe.

As Vecna stood before you, you settled on an image of a smiling Eddie, that big grin he’d give you when he wanted to play you a song he taught himself. It only widened when you applauded as if you were in the front row of one of his concerts. You could almost hear him saying, “Prettiest audience I’ve ever played for.”

…

Wait…

…You could hear his voice.

But he wasn’t being his cheesy, flirty self.

…He was singing.

“...Well, who am I to keep you down…”

Your song. He was singing your song!

With Eddie’s voice, the air in your lungs fueled you. It was enough distraction for Vecna to glance over his shoulder as a portal opened. That was all you needed.

The vines loosened, or maybe you had a surge of strength. Next thing you knew, you were running. Running toward the portal, running toward your friends, running toward Eddie, standing right in front of you, and singing.

“You can not escape me, (Y/N),” Vecna said, sending the vines after you.

But you barely heard him. All you could focus on was Eddie’s voice and how each lyric sunk deep into your bones and propelled you forward. 

The vines gained on you.

Your feet were sore.

He was right there.

You reached out, and the shimmering tickled your fingertips as his voice faded and a vine slithered around your ankle.

“...When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know…”

—

The new year was just around the corner as you and Eddie holed up in his room for the day. You’d taken a year off to save up some money for college, and Eddie was a few months into his third senior year.

He was furiously scribbling at his desk: a new campaign, he said. You never minded these days. You enjoyed the peacefulness of simply being in the same room as Eddie, doing your own things.

The stereo was set to a hum—background noise helped him concentrate. When the music stopped, you got up to switch the cassette. You knew Eddie’s collection like your own: Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden—if it was metal, it was here. That’s why this new album took you off guard.

You held the Fleetwood Mac cassette up. “When did you get this?”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder. “Last week.” He shrugged. “It’s a good album.”

He turned back to his campaign, hoping his voice sounded normal. He didn’t want you to know he bought it so you’d always have that song with you. He didn’t want you to know that when you weren’t here, he listened to it like you were. He really didn’t want you to know that it had slowly become one of his favorites because you listened to it when you were both together.

And maybe he had imagined swaying with you to that song. He’d light some candles, hold you against him, and wish he could stay like that forever.

But that’s all it was, just some wish.

He could hear the smile in your voice as you spoke. “Looks like you finally got some taste.”

And though you couldn’t see it, he rolled his eyes, a smile on his own lips. “Guess you’re a good influence on me.”

—

You gasped, knees buckling as you returned to your body. Eddie quickly caught you, lowering you to the floor where he pulled you close, one of his legs behind you and the other under your own.

Tears streamed down your face as you curled as best you could into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your head in its crook.

You had been so cold there, even though all you saw was red; it was like the place tried to freeze you solid. Eddie’s warm hands rubbing your back pushed the chill in your bones away. His grip was the only thing grounding you, telling you that you were where you belonged.

One of his hands moved to stroke your head. “I’m here. I’ve got you now." He breathed you in. "You’re back, sweetheart.”

He tried to bring you closer, placing his head atop yours and holding you by your shoulder and knees—like he could keep Vecna from grabbing you again.

So, when you calmed and began to pull away, he almost yanked you back to his body.

Once you both rose from the floor, the others urged you back to the RV, Eddie’s arm around your waist.

He took your hand when you sat on the back bench as the rest of the group discussed the plan. Nancy had thought to grab your walkman and headphones, and Max had thrown all her music in her backpack and had a copy of the album you needed.

Your headphones rested around your neck, the song softly playing. You wanted to help everyone figure out how to kill Vecna, but the only thing you could focus on was the phantom vines encircling your wrists.

You kept expecting them to be there when you looked away from one of your friends. Eddie must have noticed you weren’t paying attention, his knee nudging yours as he furrowed his brow in concern.

He knew you weren’t okay. Neither of you were okay. So, he did the one thing he could think of and squeezed your hand before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You leaned into it, needing him more than you could ever express.

“I’m right here,” he whispered into your ear.

You turned your head slightly so your foreheads were together.

“You always are,” you whispered back. As long as you had Eddie by your side, you would fight. You would win. And maybe afterward, you’d tell him you loved him.

[cinnamonest]

Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real  ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed. 

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.

[pleasantanathema]

Kenny Ackerman | of Death and Cigars

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Bloodplay, Blood Tasting, Bloody Bathwater, Biting, Age Gap, Kenny says cunny because of course he would 

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Back by popular demand, it’s the dirty old man. This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate ❤️

          The warm bathwater was ghoulish, slowly bleeding from pink to red the longer you sat in it.

           At least Kenny didn’t look bad wet. Or bloody, for that matter. But you were used to seeing him caked in crimson, often found stains of it left in the rough patches of his beard. It’s all part of the job, kid. And it was, blood was something you expected out of mercenary work. What you didn’t anticipate was how much you’d enjoy the cleanup, how much you’d take pleasure in sitting between Kenny’s naked legs and let his calloused knuckles wipe someone else’s blood from your skin.

           “Got a little on your mouth,” the water splashed as he raised his hand, swiping at your bottom lip, having to repeat the motion a few times to remove the smear, “what did you fucking do, drink his blood?”

           Your eyes rolled, “I bit him, he was trying to reach around for my knife.”

           Kenny only huffed, flicking water on your face before leaning back and stretching his arms along the edge of the tub. His knuckles popped and his neck cracked as he rolled it, little echoes into the dimly lit room as you fell into silence. You continued to rake a soiled cloth across your arms, most of the water still streaking red over your skin despite your persistence.

           “Got some on your back,” he noted, and you could feel his eyes on you, burning spots into your spine.

           “Well, wipe it off. Isn’t that what you’re here for? To ‘wash my back’?”

           “Nah, I’m just here to look at you naked.”

           You groaned, attempting to reach around to your back to clean, fingers aching from the reach. Kenny watched you struggle for a bit before swatting your hand away, gathering the rag in his fist so he could scrub rather brutishly at the elusive plane between your shoulder blades.

           The embarrassment of being naked around him had washed away after the first few times you performed this ritual. It was just easier to get clean this way, and you didn’t particularly enjoy waiting for him to bathe first just so you could step into ice cold, murky water. Plus, there were some nights when he was actually tender, started to open up withered petals in the sun and talk about his past whenever he’d had too much to drink before sitting in the water.

           You glanced over your shoulder at him, not bothering to hide your curiosity as your eyes flickered over his features. His long hair clung to his shoulders, wrinkles pulled around his mouth from where he held it to the side in concentration. His lean shoulders were freckles from days in the sun, muscles in his arms rolling as he attempted to wash away the scarlet splotches from your skin.

           He’d taught you how to slaughter people in his own gruesome, throat-splitting way. He’d hand picked you for the Anti-Personnel Control squad—said he saw something vicious in you, and maybe he did.

           “Don’t look at me with those big eyes, kid. You’re gonna make my cock hard.”

           “Your cock’s already hard.”

           “Then maybe you should clean that next. Sure your mouth would do better than a rag.”

           You mumbled something about him being disgusting, but kept most of it trapped in your throat. His hands felt particularly good kneading into your back. Not to mention the last time you’d been too sassy with him, he let you go to bed bloody. You reeked of iron for days.

           You stood in the tub, carefully posturing your feet around his outstretched legs, keeping your back to him as you stretched and prepped to leave. But as you turned to the side, you caught a glimpse of blood in his hairline, something he never thinks about since he’s always in his fucking hat.

           “There’s—ugh fuck it,” you knelt back down, caging his thighs with your own so you could sit in his lap and work at chipping away at the dried, grimy substance with your nails.

           “Now that’s more like it,” he unabashedly moved his hands to your waist, long fingers skimming upward to brush the underside of your breasts, “shame you have to keep these pretty tits covered all day.”

           “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

           “Hey, you agreed to bath time with dear old Kenny.”

           He had a point, but you didn’t have to explain yourself. Not to him.

           You kept having to tilt his chin up and away from staring at your chest so you could weave your fingers into the surprisingly thick strands of hair. Droplets started forming at his forehead from your actions, water turning red as it absorbed the remnants of a very dirty and very busy night.

           “You feel good in my lap,” he hummed, rocking you forward so you could feel just how much he meant with it with the cock straining against his stomach. You attempted to lift yourself away from him, but he only pulled you closer, brought your breasts up to his face so he could lick the water away from one of your nipples. You hated the jolt of pleasure that raced down your skin at the lewd touch, biting your tongue avoid any untoward sound slipping out.

           Kenny repeated the action when you didn’t pull away, this time his tongue flat, placing a long, hot stripe over your nipple and over the curve of your breast.

           “Stop that.”

           “Do you really want me to?”

           He didn’t give you the chance to answer, instead enveloped your hardened peak with his warm mouth. You shivered at the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, the hands in his hair pulling him toward you instead of pushing away. He smirked against your tit, tip of tongue circling your nipple until he finally heard you moan. It was the faintest sound, one you barely recognized came from your mouth, but he heard it.

           His hand on your hip sunk lower under the water line, thumb tracing the inside of your thigh, creeping closer to the one place he hadn’t dared to touch before. Well, that wasn’t quite true; he’d attempted once before, but you scratched his wrist so hard that he bled. This time you didn’t bother to stop him, the curiosity of what his fingers would feel like nearly killing you.

           “Bet you’ve got a real tight cunny, don’t you?”

           “Kenny���” you scold stopped mid-breath as his middle finger brushed your clit, pushing farther back to probe at your tight hole. He started sucking at your breast, taking the fat in between his teeth as he groaned at the feeling of your folds against his hand.

           You were glad you couldn’t see the delight in his eyes when you sat deeper into his lap, urging his fingers to explore further, to press up inside you just so you could know how it felt. He obliged your silent request, sinking his finger into your heat and feeling the moan that reverberated from your chest.

           It felt good, and he knew just how to curl his knuckle, how to swipe his thumb against your clit in the same motion to have your head falling back. Your hips rolled against your better judgement, encouraging him to nestle a second finger inside of you, pumping them both and stretching you apart.

           “Yeah you like that, don’t you? Little whore likes her cunny stuffed.”

           “If only I could stuff your fucking mouth.”

           “Next time.”

           You weren’t sure if it was frustration or ecstasy that trickled down your back and settled in your stomach, but you didn’t care, not when his fingers started pushing a little harder. Kenny’s lips started to make a trail up your chest, messy, wet kisses that had your skin burning under his beard. He stopped at your neck, wicked tongue daring to lap at the bloody water that pooled against your collarbone.

           “Fuck I can’t take this teasing shit. Sit on my cock.”

           Demands from him weren’t uncommon, he was your superior, after all, but this one had your cheeks flushing. You gasped when he uncurled his fingers from inside of you, shaking his wrist under the water like he was cleaning them. Your hands fell down to his shoulders, nails pressing into the muscled sinews as you lowered yourself just like he told you to.

           You tried to look away from him as you felt his cockhead breach that first ring of muscle, your cunt too willingly sucking him in, but he caught your jaw, making you look down at him. His grey eyes were always piercing, like they were cutting through you like a knife twisting in flesh, and this time was no different. It was like he was looking through you, reading the jumbled thoughts rolling in your head as you started to sink down his length.

           A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You’ve still got a little blood on your lips. Let me clean that for you.”

           His kiss was rough, assertive, mouth slanting against yours in a mixture of control and desperation. For a moment, you thought not to kiss him back, a metallic flash of crimson hitting your tongue signaling that he was, indeed, telling the truth. But your mouth opened of its own will when his lengthy cock finally bottomed out inside of you.

           One of his hands looped around the back of your neck, crushing your mouth against his as he started to rock you in his lap. You felt startlingly full, cock spreading your insides as you started to move with him.

           A small pang of disgust hit you when his tongue snaked into your mouth, but you washed that down with the taste of him, with the taste of blood and tobacco, of death and cigars.

           Your clit was sliding perfectly against the thatch of wiry black curls at the base of his cock, pleasure brewing in your pussy and traveling to your fingers, your toes. When he pulled away from your lips, his tongue licked at your cheek before he started to bounce you harder in his lap. Bloodstained water sloshed from the edges of the tub, sinking into the grout and tiles.

           “I’ve come in my hand so many times thinking about you, kid.” He laughed at the look on your face from his confession. “Ain’t gonna take me long to cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

           “God I fucking hate you,” you hissed, but you kept up the pace, feeling that rather blissful and dreadful pull of orgasm.

           “That so? Then why’re you just getting tighter around me? Feels like you like my cock.”

           You didn’t have the effort for a retort, your head falling to his shoulder as you began to ride him harder, ready to cum and go dwell in the shame afterwards.

           Kenny was panting, clearly enjoying himself as his big hands groped at your ass, helping you slide along his cock under the water. You hated that he smelled good, hated that he felt good, hated that he knew exactly what he was doing, pulling your cheeks apart and making you spread and used.

           “Bite me.”

           You almost didn’t hear him over your own whimpers, gritting out a simple, “What?”

           “You h-heard me, kid. Bite me like you did that fucker earlier. Wanna see what it feels like.”

           It was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. You caught your breath, blinking your eyes for a second so you could see straight through the haze of pleasure. You chose the tender spot between neck and shoulder, sinking your teeth into his tawny skin slowly, putting pressure on your canines so he’d feel that thrill of pain.

           He moaned so loudly it actually made you flush, made your ears burn from how lewd it sounded. It spurred you to bite harder, to sink so deep into flesh that you felt his own blood slip past your lips.

           The pulsing of his cock made you see colors, made you gasp and release his shoulder and nearly double over from the euphoria that rippled through your body. He stopped moving, but your body still shook, slapped with a climax you didn’t expect just from feeling cum pour inside your cunt, from feeling his cock twitch and throb and explode inside you. You spasmed around him, brows pinching together as you tried to come back to your senses.

           You supposed he wasn’t kidding about not going to last long, you just felt embarrassment creep over your psyche at the fact that you’d fallen right behind him, wasting away in his lap.

           After a few moments, you finally sat back, groaning at that too-full feeling of still having him inside of you. You gripped his jaw like he did yours earlier, bringing him back to life to look up at you.

           “You can have your blood back,” you slid your messy mouth against his, both of you moaning a little too deeply as you shared his taste between your tongues.

[anyoneseenadam]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader where they are cuddling and talking after a long day of work?

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: mental health/anxiety being mean, insecurity, asides from that it’s pure fluff and nice and lovey dovey

a/n: I love writing fluff omg, I went in a slightly different route that I intended with this one but I hope you like it :))))

------------------------------------------------------------------

You pushed the heavy wooden door of your home open, dragging your legs in as you fought to keep your eyes open. You pushed the door closed with your back, leaning your head against it, and closing your eyes for a second, before sliding down, still leaning against the door, and wrestling to remove you shoes with a huff.

You heard a cough ahead of you and looked up to see Azriel fondly watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still in his leathers, so you presumed he had just beat you home, his tired eyes sparkling with humour as he watched you struggle with your boots. You didn’t say anything as you stood and padded over to him on heavy feet, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing your eyes shut.

You didn’t want to think of the long week you had dealt with, you just wanted to bury yourself under a mountain of pillows and blankets and maybe wrap your limbs around Azriel like a koala bear. He wrapped his arms around you, scarred hands rubbing up and down your back as the two of you stood together in silence, simply breathing in the other and allowing your souls to be reacquainted.

When you first met Azriel he had wandered into your shop on a whim, wanting to get Feyre some flowers to congratulate her on the pregnancy and he remembered Elain had mentioned this shop being one of her favourites. He had expected to be in and out, not in the mood for a long conversation, or any conversation for that matter. But as soon as he saw your pretty face, your flowy, dress that stopped just above your dirt covered knees, all his plans were thrown out the window.

“Can I help you?” you had asked, sweet-lipped, your voice sounding the way cherries tasted, sweet but with a deeper richness. A smooth tone that he could listen to for hours.

He ended up buying as many flowers as he could without seeming insane, not wanting you to ever stop speaking, wanting you to explain the meaning behind every flower in your store if it meant he got to stay with you.

You had noticed him as well of course. Who wouldn’t, he was beautiful and carried himself with so much grace and poise that you were sure he was a fallen angel. You had lengthened your descriptions of the flowers, face heating when you realised you were rambling and fighting a grin when he asked you to continue.

You had invited him to sit with you as you were brewing tea and he had accepted, sipping tentatively at the tea you told him you grew yourself, the greenhouse in your garden perfect for the needed flowers. The two of you had spoken for hours before he left, ignoring the confused looks from his friends when he came home with six separate bouquets of flowers. Instead deciding to picture your pretty face as he lay in bed that night, finally getting rest for the first time in weeks.

Now, you were wrapped up in his arms, still not speaking. He didn’t worry too much, he knew that sometimes you weren’t ready to speak, that some days you just needed some quiet to process your day and come back to yourself. When you had first explained the way you would drift from your own mind, feeling as if you were floating above your own body Azriel had almost cried, the realisation that maybe he wasn’t the only one in the world, that maybe there was someone for him after all.

He lifted you into his arms and carried you to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the plants littered around the house, before shifting you onto one hip like a baby, knowing you wouldn’t be letting go any time soon. He set about brewing your favourite tea, smiling as he picked up the pot that you had shared the fifth time he came to visit you.

The store had been closed but you had invited him, so he pushed in, cringing at himself when he realised how early he was but all his thoughts came to a halt when he heard that sweet voice of yours coming from your apartment above your shop.

“My lovers got humour, she's the giggle at a funeral, knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner. If the Heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece, every Sunday's getting more bleak a fresh poison each week- AH!” you screamed when you saw him standing in the doorway, pressing a hand to your heart as it slowed back to its regular beat. “Fuck you, oh my.”

He genuinely laughed then, not expecting to hear you swear. The girl who had green stained fingers and who fed stray cats, the girl who always decorated for every holiday and who apologised when she bumped into inanimate objects. Your face was hot to the touch and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes, so he had stopped laughing, moving to up your face, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“You have the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard.” He said sincerely but you scoffed,

“No I really don’t,” you laughed but he saw the insecurities then, “I know it’s whiny.” He frowned; your voice having been one of your most attractive traits in his eyes. He had started to see beneath your cracks then, but now with you wrapped around him he remembered how deep they went.

“Do you want to talk about it baby?” he asked carefully, not wanting to startle you, knowing how deep you could get in your head, tiny noises startling you when you were zoned out.

“Bad brain.” Was all you muttered, and he frowned but just kissed your forehead and continued making your tea. When he was done he carried both you and the tea through to your bedroom, setting the tea down before twisting you again and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you on the side of the bath and wet a cloth, cleaning the makeup from your face, and moisturising your skin before picking you back up and taking you back to your room. You slowly changed into one of his shirts and some loose boxers before crawling under the duvet and reaching your hands out to Azriel who had changed into his pyjama bottoms.

He crawled in next to you, pulling you into his chest, his wings wrapping around the two of you and then his shadows settling over both of you, protecting you from the outside world.

“How was your week?” he asked, one hand coming up to play with your hair knowing how much it relaxed you and feeling his heart warm when he felt you smile against his neck.

“Bit shit,”

“How so?”

“Just rude customers, and this one guy wanted like two dozen flowers which I made up but then he couldn’t pay and trashed the bouquets I had made him. Plus all the noise made my anxiety play up,” you muttered, and he frowned, not liking how put out you sounded.

“Want me to kill him?” he asked, only half-joking.

“I think that’s a bit extreme,” you laughed into his shoulder.

“Lightly maim then?”

“Maybe just a scare, make him think his house is haunted or something,”

“That I can do.” He smiled, kissing you, happy to have you partially back to him.

“What about you, how was your week, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

“I know, sorry. I’ve been doing some stuff for Rhys.”

“I’m presuming I’m not allowed to hear about it,” you said, well aware of how secretive his job was.

“It’s not a mission per say, I’m just babysitting.”

“Is it fun at least?” you asked, grinning at him cheekily and he scrunched up his face, thinking back over his week of baby sitting two horny Fae’s while he dreamt of being in your little apartment.

“Not the word I would use, they’re too horny for their own good.”

“The babies?!”

“No! NO! They’re not actually children!” he backtracked as you collapsed into a fit of giggles, Azriel joining you soon after. “You know I think they suspect something,” he said once you finally calmed down, “I think they’ve worked out I’m sneaking off.”

“Hmm, guess we have to kill them then.” You mused and Azriel grinned,

“Only reasonable course of action.”

“I mean we’d be fools not to,”

“Clearly.” He laughed, before tightening his grip, “seriously though, do you want to meet them?”

“I mean, yeah. I think it’d be nice,” he noticed your mood had shifted again and nudged you, imploring you to continue, “It’s just you’re all so accomplished and amazing, powerful people and I’m just… me.”

He tried to ignore the pain that stabbed into his heart at your self-deprecating words, having thought them about himself enough times to know how they felt. “Don’t say that, you’re an incredible person. And even if you weren’t the kindest, sweetest person I had ever met, you’re still the girl I love and honestly I think Cassian is one ex-girlfriend away from selling me to the highest bidder.”

You laughed and nuzzled in farther, “Kindest person you’ve ever met?”

“Well asides from the occasional death threats,”

“ah yes, ignoring that. Of course.” He laughed and kissed your forehead, eyes closing as he heard your voice get softer and your breath slower.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair as you felt your eyelids droop, the weight of the week lifted off of your shoulders as you buried yourself in Azriel’s arms, peaceful in his embrace.

“I love you.”

[the-passenger-if]

one of my favorite angst tropes is someone breaking up with their partner in order to keep them safe! how would the ros handle this if newman did this to them? (also, would any of the ro’s break up with newman to keep them safe?)

combining it with

How would the ROs react to Newman who just texts them out of nowhere and the message just say "I love you always bye sorry" as if Newman was in a hurry and no matter how hard they try to contact them, no one picks up.

also

some angST!! How would the ROs react to Newman breaking up with them after being together for a looooong time?

and

ROs reaction to Newman wanting to break up with them after a while of being together?

Jonny and Horizon would break up with Newman to keep them safe. Fiama knows she can keep both of them safe, and Roach will do their best but if they have to die then they will die together xD

Combining Newman just up and disappears one day with Newman breaks up with RO after being together for a long time.

Long angsty scenarios under the cut.

“Mommy… kisses me… on the… cheek. Cheek. Cheek, Bruno. Listen, cheeeek. That’s chek.”

Bruno mutters the word ‘cheek’ under his breath a few times before adding another ‘e’ just on top of the first one.

“No,” Fiama tells him. “Erase the word and rewrite it. Well this time.”

Her son scowls but he does as he’s told. His round eyes slip away from the exercise book to the front door and stay there.

“Bruno,” she calls him. “Bruno.” He looks at her, and she knows. She just knows what he’s thinking about. Who he’s thinking about. “Cheek.” She points at the book.

He writes down the word very slowly and forcefully on the page. She still can read the wrong word under it, but she decides to let it go.

“The chick eats corn,” Fiama continues, “The… chick… Chick, Bruno.”

He bites his lower lip, staring at her.

“Remember the chicks? Grandpa took you to see them…”

Bruno mutters ‘chick’ under his breath a couple of times, then his eyes go to the front door again.

“Bruno,” and she doesn’t want to lose her patience like this, but she’s tired and she wants to… she doesn’t know what she wants to do yet, but doing homework in the living room with a very distracted Bruno isn’t it.

Her boy scowls at her, pencil shaking in a tiny angry fist. He opens his mouth to retort when someone knocks on the door. His eyes widen, the scowl vanishes. He jumps off the chair, homework and pencil and Fiama completely forgotten.

“Bruno!” she calls out, but he’s already dashing to the door and yanking it open.

“Oh! Hi there, rabbit,” Fiama’s mother says.

“No!” Bruno replies trying to close the door again.

That’s when Fiama stands up and grabs him by the arm. “Don’t you shut the door in your grandma’s face!”

“Don’t you grab him like that!” her mother yells at her, and she lets go of Bruno as if he was a hot iron.

“Why are you here?” Bruno screams at Fiama’s mother. “I wanted it to be them!”

“Bruno!” Fiama scolds.

“No!” her boy yells at her. “This is your fault! You did this!” Then he’s running off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Fiama isn’t the type to care about metaphors, but right now she completely understands what people mean when they say 'it felt like a bucket of cold water'.

The one that breaks the silence is her mother. “Well, didn’t I tell you this would happen?”

“Not now, mom.” Fiama grits out.

“Let us hope it doesn’t affect Bruno too much…”

“I said not now.” The glare she sends her mother’s way is enough for the woman to shake her head and turn away.

Fiama closes the door very carefully, and then rests her back against it, scowl set on the table where Bruno’s homework was left unfinished. A thought like a flash; the table toppling over, books and pencils, and the ceramic fruit basket flying in the air. It passes quickly. Fiama is taking slow deep breaths. She still remembers what happened the last time she let her emotions get the best of her. That familiar wave of shame and guilt washes over her as she remembers Bruno’s stunned silence when he found her sobbing in her room, sat in the midst of broken pieces of whatever she had lying about in there.

A single tear rolls down her cheek, one Fiama swiftly washes away. She promises herself this is the last she’ll ever waste on them.

---

There's one lonely cloud floating in the blue sky and Jonny's eyes have been following its snail-like march for the last ten minutes or so. His neck is starting to feel stiff but he doesn't shift his position; watching the lazy parade happening outside of his window has kept his mind in silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

It isn’t surprising that it doesn’t last. Somebody is knocking on his bedroom door and Jonny really doesn't have the energy for this. He closes his eyes shut, focuses on the inverted shadow cloud burned in his tired retina. The door clicks open and he keeps still on his bed, chest barely moving. It's childish, he knows this, but it's the only thing that seems to keep Joaquin and Lucia from asking how he's doing or commenting about his love life, or even worse, trying to give him advice.

The visitor lingers there where they stand for another moment, before closing the door again. Jonny thinks he’s been left alone to go back to what apparently has become his favorite hobby as of late, when he hears approaching footsteps.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Don’t tell me they called you,” he says in a drawl, opening his eyes and fixing them on the man sitting on the bed across from his. Quino has the same green eyes, straight nose, and wavy brown hair Jonny has, however, his twin chooses to wear it shorter and well out of his face. He is, after all, the good-looking one.

“They didn’t,” Quino assures him with a conciliatory smile. Jonny’s skepticism must be written all over his face because his brother crosses his heart and shrugs.

“Why are you here?” Jonny knows why, but he also knows Quino too well and his twin has never been the type to start awkward conversations unless Jonny opens that door for him first.

“Do I need a reason? Can’t I—?”

“They broke up with me,” Jonny cuts him off, “I’m feeling like shit, I just want to sleep until I forget I ever met them, but every time people ask about it I think about them, and every time they tell me ‘it will pass’, and that I’ll ‘find someone new’ I just want to jump in front of a car.” Quino doesn’t say anything, he just nods while picking at his nails. Jonny rolls on his back, stares at the ceiling. “I know I’m way too old to be acting like this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“You aren’t too old to feel like shit, Jonny. You loved them, and they left you. It’s completely understandable.”

He presses his lips together. He did love them. He does love them still. Stupid, so stupid.

“If you want to cry—“

“Screw off.”

“Not in front of me, heaven forbid,” Quino says with mock horror, “but you should cry sometimes. Crying is good for you, you know?”

Maybe it is, Jonny guesses, but he might have cried himself dry the night Newman broke up with him over the phone. Over the fucking phone, of fucking course. He rubs at his dry eyes. He doesn’t want to think about that. “Yeah,” he mutters.

The silence stretches until Quino clears his throat. “So, do you want to know why I’m here or not?”

Jonny turns his head and then frowns at the tickets in his brother’s hand. He blinks twice, recognizing the iconic font printed on them at once. He sits up an instant later. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m inviting you to see Metallica in Columbia.”

“Their last two albums suck,” Jonny says, yet he still takes the ticket from Quino’s hand.

“What doesn’t?” his twin asks with a laugh, and this time Jonny can feel himself smile.

---

One of the humans is awake. Shit. Roach thought they had at least another hour or two, now they’ll have to deal with them and their overfamiliarity and their hands and their faces.

The stub between their lips trembles and they realize it has gone out. They take it, frown at it and then flick it off. It flies in an arc, landing among its dozen of dead brothers. Roach knows at least ten of those are theirs—not that the parking lot of this dingy motel could look any worse by having more dead cigs lying about.

They look for their smokes in the denim jacket they are wearing—a gift from a trucker with a tendency to comment on people’s appearances and leave his jacket behind when going to the restroom—and almost drop the entire pack when the door at their left opens.

“Those things will kill you,” says the woman coming out of their shared motel room.

“Life is killing me,” Roach replies without missing a beat, but they don’t smile; she won’t see their face anyway, not when the sun has yet to come out, and the only lightbulb over their head suddenly burned out.

“Do you have another one?”

She comes to sit next to them on the bench and Roach doesn’t need light to see the deep crow's feet at the corner of her eyes and the dark circles under them. Their conquests always look immensely better under synthetic lighting, once outside, once they’ve used one another, it’s like the spell breaks.

Roach holds two cigs between their lips and lights them with practiced ease. They offer one to their broken Juliette. It’s the least they can do; they do remember biting her hard at some point in the middle of their sexcapade… or maybe they bit one of the others, they aren’t sure anymore.

She accepts it with a thanks and takes a long drag. She sighs out the smoke, peers at Roach as if she could somehow pierce through the shadows and take a good look at them. “You are young, darling,” she croaks out. “Way too young to be doing this shit.”

“Smoking?” Roach asks innocently. Words read out from a script, tone sweet, face immobile. The face of a ghost really, one that haunts and judges them.

The woman shakes her head and then points with her thumb at the room behind them. “I bet you aren’t even thirty yet.” She tilts her head at them, eyes narrowing and still trying to see. “Whatever happened to you… you can opt out. It isn’t easy, but you can move on, you can leave your old self behind. It’s never too late…” A coughing fit interrupts her fortune cookie monologue, and Roach is super ready to skedaddle now.

They stand up, rub their hands together. “Speaking of,” they exclaim with fake enthusiasm, “I should hit the road now. It was a pleasure, really,” they add just as if they were wrapping a 5-cents bow around used pair of socks. Here, happy birthday.

Roach jogs off before she can add anything else.

“Hag,” they mutter around their cigarette. They stop as they catch a glimpse of their reflection in the window of a stripped car. The face scowling at them is silently judging them for stealing it and then using it to lure in humans. “It’s poetic, ok?” Roach explains with a tense grin. “You fucked me over so this is my way to return the favor, pet.” The reflection doesn’t reply, but Roach doesn’t care. They don’t care. They never cared, actually. Who said they ever did?

---

Slow, deep breaths. Inhale, one… two… three… four. Exhale, one… two… three… four… five… six…

Horizon opens their eyes. They are crouched in front of the ceremonial pitcher. Looking down at their reflection in the water makes something like a thumb-size metal ball roll in the back of their skull. They wince in pain and lose whatever little balance they had before. Horizon doesn’t yelp when they fall back on their ass; the sudden waves of nausea coming up like lava inside a volcano could turn a bad situation into a nightmarish one at the flip of a hat.

“Ah,” they whine in a whisper, “if there truly is anything out there, up there, or around, please make it stop.” They run a hand down their face, suppress a fiery belch.

They blindly look for the pitcher and submerge their other hand in the cold water. Dominus Dove and Domina Basil would blanch in horror and anger, but right now, this is the best Horizon has felt since Velour dragged them out of bed, wrapped their robes around them, and pushed them into their office.

Running wet, cold fingers through their messy hair is the best feeling in the world, so they continue this little ritual for a while… and another while… and a little longer…

The door opens just a crack and Horizon’s gaze jumps to Velour’s so fast that the metal ball comes back with a vengeance. An arrow piercing their brain back to front.

“Ahh!”

“This isn’t happening,” Velour hisses as they slink into the room and close the door behind them. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“This isn’t happening,” Horizon mutters trying to smile through the pain. They open their eyes to find a very frowny, very serious Velour staring down at them. The smile slips off their face like a slug going down the drain. “I’m so sorry, Velour.”

“As you should,” they reply coldly, and Horizon wants to cry because there’s so much more to their tone than just scorn; they are truly disappointed and they have all the right to be.

“I’m a mess,” the words sound strained to Horizon’s ears, and they can feel new tears threatening to spill down their face again.

Velour’s jaw tightens before they crouch down shaking their head. “You are drunk,” they whisper in a mellow way. “And we can’t let anyone know that.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Alright, I’ll tell them you are indisposed. Wait here, and please, stop playing with the sacred water, Domini.”

Horizon can feel themself blushing in embarrassment, but they nod nonetheless and almost don’t wince when the metal ball ricochets around their skull.

Velour steps out of the room, their voice booming in the cabin, “Domini Horizon has fallen ill with a fever. Today’s prayers will be under my supervision.”

“Are they ok?” somebody asks.

“Yes, but they are very tired and would appreciate being left alone in their cabin. Any concerns or questions you have can be brought to me.”

Efficiently, they march into the office again. “Lean on me, Domini,” they instruct and Horizon does as they say. A few moments later, The Domini is back on their feet and being herded out of the office and through the cabin. They keep their head down, letting their hair cover their face.

“Poor Domini,” another person loud-whispers, “they are drenched in sweat.”

Next to them, Velour tenses up, but they don’t let their discomfort show in any other way.

Once in Horizon’s cabin, their assistant sits them on the bed and fetches them a glass of water.

“They aren’t worth any of this, Domini,” Velour says, and Horizon keeps still, lips barely touching the water. They look up at their assistant but say nothing. “That’s all I wanted to say, and that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

Horizon puts down the glass on their lap, both hands holding it still. They lower their gaze before softly replying, “Noted.”

Velour makes to leave. They open the door before saying over their shoulder, “And stop drinking. If I come back to find you drunk again, I swear I’m leaving. For real this time.”

Horizon nods slowly, and doesn’t look up until Velour closes the door behind them. Once they are out, the Domini puts the glass down, next to the bed, carefully lies down, and lets the ugly sobs come gushing out of them like muddy water from a broken levee.