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license-to-geek · 3 years ago

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Changes part two

Norman Osborn X Reader

A/N: thank you all for the notes on part one ! I’d just like to mention I’m British and therefore certain things in the story may not match up with American culture! For example years at college (or what I call uni), drinking ages etc etc. Everyone is set to be over 21 however.

Previously: in part one we saw the reader get bit by the spider, she’d previously been having an affair with Norman however her most recent interaction wasn’t entirely pleasant so she has retreated slightly. She comes into contact with the green goblin and has been kidnapped.

Summary: reader finally meets the green goblin and has a charity gala to attend!

Smut warning !

Word count approx 2200

Hope you all enjoy !

She could barely open her eyes. Her head was hanging heavy, her body weak. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, was that blood? She couldn’t reach up to her face and check her mask was in the way. A ringing bounced around her ears, then she noticed wind slapping her face. The sound of traffic, but it was far away. The floor was cold. She was sitting up right with her back against some concrete. Her senses slowly began to return to her. That’s when she finally snapped back into reality, a shrieking laughter ripping her out of her thoughts.

Standing before her was the green elf from earlier.

“You’re not dead. Not yet. Just paralysed temporarily.”

Her hand went to her mask to expose her mouth but it was a struggle. She finally managed it then spat out some blood that had been over crowding her mouth.

“Who are you ?” She asked.

“Some call me a Menace, some call me a monster some call me- the green goblin.” He announced proudly.

“Did you choose that name?” She held back a laugh, that might have been worse than the name she had ‘green elf’.

“Did you chose to be little spider ?” He countered.

“It’s spider-woman.” She shot back, spitting more blood out from her mouth. “What’s your deal green guy ?”

“I want you to join me. I’ve been watching you. It’s some neat trick that sense of yours.” He said bending his legs to be eye level.

Her vision was still hazey, she could just about recognise the colour of his eyes. Even they she wasn’t sure.

“Join you in what? Blowing up news paper offices and threatening editors ? What, did he offend you by writing a poor review of Jurassic park ?” (Probably where he got the inspiration for his suit, he resembled a little raptor in many aspects.)

He stood up at this point and took a few steps back.

“You’ve got a smart mouth little spider.” He sneered, his finger pointing at her.

“But is your brain smarter ? You fool don’t you see ! Me and you are gods amongst men. We could achieve anything-.”

“And women.” Her interruption caused the eccentric man to stop his monologue

“Excuse me?” He said.

With a small laugh she said “you said we are gods amongst men. I said and women. And I’d be a goddess, not so much a god. In Greek mythology Nox is arguably the most powerful entity and she’s a woman even Zeus-“

“Alright, alright ! I get your point.” He snapped.

Through her ramblings she’d bought some time and was now starting to regain full mobility.

He leant down towards her again this time grabbing her face. The leather gloves grazing her skin, almost enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“I could squash you like a bug, right now.” He mumbled gently shaking her chin from side to side, inspecting her face or rather mask.

“I’d like to see you try”

At this she jumped up grabbing the goblin by his throat and pinning him to the ground. She shot some webs to keep him down.

“See , the thing is you little green elf, I’m not a menace nor am I monster. I’m not a hero, I’m not villain. At best I’m some girl who is just trying to make her city a safer place. “

He attempted to get himself out of the webbing, wriggling and struggling. In response she’d put a foot on his chest and shot another two webs for added security.

“I never asked for these powers. But with them I have some kind of responsibility. And if you wanna get in my way, then go ahead and try. You won’t get very far. This is my city. And you can be damn sure I’m going to protect it. So no thanks, I won’t be joining you.”

And with the end of her monologue she went to leave, not before shooting some webs at the goblins glider to prevent it from moving.

“Godspeed little spider.” He muttered.

A week or so had passed since that incident. He must have used some sleeping gas on her that temporarily paralysed her powers or at least dialled them down, as well as her movements. There hadn’t been any other sightings of the green goblin, however she had done some research into who he might have been.

She had found nothing.

This evening she was due to attend another gala as Peter’s plus one, he was to be taking photographs of the event for the daily bugle. The event was something to do with a charity fundraiser. Mainly full of swanky rich people. Including the Osborns. She hadn’t spoken to Norman since that afternoon in the entrance hall.

For her attire she had treated herself to a new dress. An elegant black dress. Simple yet classy. She also made sure to bring a clutch big enough to fit her suit in. She’d made a habit of either wearing it everywhere or at least having it on hand.

Why were these galas always held in buildings which had entrances with thousands of steps? She wanted to attended a function not climb Everest? After hiking up the last remaining steps her and Peter had entered the luxurious hall arm in arm.

“You okay Peter ?” She asked looking over at him, he was wearing a dazed faced his eyes looking over into the distance. She followed his gaze and spotted MJ and Harry. Ah there it is. She felt for him, especially considering she looked absolutely stunning but was hanging off his best friends arm.

“Oh. Hey let’s get some Gin shall we? Take your mind off it?” She gently rubbing his arm in consolidation.

“Yeah okay (Y/N) I can’t have too much though. Got to do my job after all” Peter smiled sheepishly shaking his camera.

They sat at the bar for a short while before Peter got up to do his job.

“Really sorry (Y/N) , I’ll be back in a little while then you can finish that story about the old man on 29th street.” He apologised giving her a peck on the cheek.

Her and Peter hadn’t really been close but since MJ and Harry got together, (Y/N) and Pete had been hanging out more often. When she had the time of course.

“Sure, no problem Pete, go get em!” She smiled pumping her fist in the air as an act of encouragement.

Peter smiled at her and walked off camera in hand. She turned back to the bar and ordered another drink. Looking over her shoulder she scanned the room, looking for someone to talk to. She doubted she knew anyone there apart from the Osborns. The senior of which she wasn’t prepared to see. She missed him, a great deal. And the sex, dear god the sex was heavenly. But the sneaking around behind Harry’s back, the not being able to go for a cup of coffee together, it was heart breaking. And then there was the other day in the entrance hall. Maybe she doesn’t know him as well as she thought she did.

The bartender had made and handed a gin to her, to which she said thank you. Her legs carried her away from the bar to go outside to the back of the building for some air. She turned a corner and leant against a wall. The garden was beautiful, as she was admiring it she felt someone behind her, she turned around a little to quickly for a normal reaction but hey, spider senses right ?

“So this why you’ve been avoiding me.”

It was Norman. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, his hair perfectly slicked back, his face crossed between anger and glumness.

“What ?” She nearly choked on her drink in shock at seeing him, not even registering the question.

“It’s him isn’t it?” He spat, coming closer to face her properly, jealousy filled his eyes as he towered over her.

In complete confusion she replied “What? Who? What are you on about Norman ?”

“Peter fucking Parker, you’ve been fucking him behind my back haven’t you ? That’s why you’ve been so cold and distant.” Sneering, he pushed her against the wall, one hand remaining on the wall the other on her shoulder.

“Peter ? What ? No, you’ve lost your mind Norman.” She laughed in disbelief, her hands still gripping her clutch and glass.

“Don’t patronise me (Y/N) I’ve seen you two. Seen him sniffing around you. He can’t have my sons girl so he comes after mine instead.”

“You’ve gone insane Norman.”

“Have I? You’re mine.” He growled in her ear, pushing his chest against hers causing her to drop her glass, gin spilt on her shoes and his but he didn’t seem bothered.

“You’re mine. You belong to me.” He breathed against her neck, his hot breath heating her skin. A shiver ran down her body, like a single butterfly had bounced in her stomach.

“I don’t belong to anyone Norman.” She whispered, her voice wavering.

“Don’t lie to me.” He muttered, bringing a hand to run through her hair.

“How’s that a lie.” Her breathing was all over the place, every nerve in her body was now on fire. She didn’t know if she yearned for his touch or was repulsed by it.

“Who’s ever going to fuck you like I do. You’re addicted sweetheart and I’m the fucking drug don’t deny it.”

“I think your projecting here Norman.”

“Tell me to leave then.” He whispered. She could smell whiskey on his breath, she could feel his growing member through his suit trousers pressing against her middle. Involuntarily, her body reacted, her hips slightly raising up to meet his own. She felt her core heat up. No, how could she be turned on right now ?

She uttered some incoherent response that even she didn’t know what she said.

His lips went to her neck, teeth grazing her skin. One of Normans fingers ran from her throat, prodding her chest and sliding down her front towards her legs. With his free hand he slid it underneath her dress and gently investigated her panties, massaging over the area. To which he found to be soaking.

“I think you’re happier to see me then you’re letting on.” He mumbled in her ear.

“Mhmm” she muttered, exposing her neck to him further, to which he nibbled upon further, sucking at the area ever so carefully.

Normans fingers went underneath her knickers, he soon found her folds, his fingers coated her entrance, applying a come hither motion, pushing his hungers against her, massaging the area. She could only moan in response, ever so quietly.

“You want me.” He insisted, applying more pressure and continuing to suck on the skin of her neck. She was sure she’d have hickies in morning.

She didn’t reply, only welcomed his touch, opening her legs further for him to get a better access. He was playing a game, trying to prove a point, she knew that but by god he turned her on.

“You can open your legs for me all you want sweetheart. But until you admit you want me I’m not going to touch you any further.”

The response the women below him offered was a whimper.

“Admit it.” He hissed.

“For fuck sake norman just finger me.” She begged.

“Admit you want me.” He pushed her further against the wall.

“I want you.” She moaned opening her legs even further.

His mouth fell against hers, engulfing her in a kiss filled with desperation and longing. Like he was trying to send her a message, he hung onto her lips for dear life, like she was the life raft he’d been searching for.

Using his fingers he opened her folds and slid a finger into her core. This caused her to moan approvingly against his lips. He continued to finger fuck her, inserting a second finger and then a third. Her hips rocked against his hand, the position they where currently in wasn’t giving them the best angles but by god she was about to come at any moment.

And then his thumb reached for her clit, after sliding her panties down her legs to get better access. The motions from the thumb, circling her clit, just the right amount of pressures she was seeing stars.

“Cum.” He instructed, digging his fingers in deep and taking them out fast, god his rhythm was heavenly.

And as instructed she obliged and came hard and heavy on his hand, his lips straight on hers muffling her cries, they where still in public after all.

“(Y/N)!”called out Peter from around the corner, snapping her out of it and pulling her back into reality.

Norman pulled away and she saw a smirk on his face, he brought his fingers to his lips and swirled his tongue around each one, licking her juices clean.

She adjusted her hair and pulled up her knickers, quickly sorting herself out to make her presentable again. Norman straightened out his jacket.

Peter then appeared from around the corner.

“(Y/N) I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Oh hi Mr Osborn.” Peters eyes darted to the broken glass on the floor.

“Sorry Peter, I came out for some air and Norman was here too, he startled me a bit. I spilt my drink haha. Let’s go get another yeah?” She smiled walking away from Norman.

Only she’d dropped her clutch.

#norman osborn x reader #norman osborne #norman osborn #green goblin #green goblin x reader #LTGchanges

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insomniamamma · 4 years ago

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Blue Morning: Fennec Shand x F!Twi’lek Reader

A/n: for Writer Wednesday. Don't @ me about canon this second dose of the covid shot is kicking my ass. Thinking of that blue Twi'lek chained to Bib Fortuna's throne in the sneak peak we got of The Book of Boba Fett. I’m not sure who to tag so @autumnleaves1991-blog, and @clydesducktape, and @flightlessangelwings. Also, this is my first time writing fxf fic so please be gentle. ‘Spotchka froths’ are mentioned. Picture a neon blue Sno-Cone with booze.

Warnings: Mentions of enslavement, cannon typical violence, Fennec Shand in formal wear is her own warning, mentions of death in a mythical context. Food mentionsl Alcohol consumption.

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.” (i botched the prompt a little)

You scrunch your eyes shut, expecting the blaster-shot to be the last thing you ever hear, chain still gripped in your hands, as if you haven't tried this every day since being sold to Bib Fortuna. You tug the chain in your sleep sometimes, curled on the rough-hewn stone, wake yourself up doing it, Fortuna and his cronies laughing at you. You open your eyes and you are somehow not dead. The gunslinger stares at you, her mouth slightly upturned, jerks her head towards the tunnels, telling you to run. And so you do.

Your bare feet slap over the cool, damp stone of the tunnels, carrying you to your quarters without any thought. You have to go. Blaster fire echoes above. The door to your chambers slides open and you close it behind you. You can't lock it. Slave quarters have no locks. "Kriff." Your tiny closet holds only the filmy costumes you are permitted to wear. You can't make it across the desert in any of this. You have nothing to your name but these ribbons and silks. You don't even have proper boots, just dainty slippers meant for nothing except looking pretty in. Part of you thinks to just run. Just grab what you can and bolt, twin suns be damned. No, think, Blue, you've got to play it smart. There's speeders in the bay. Swoop bikes, you make it there and none of the rest of it will matter. Get a speeder and you can be to Mos Eisley before the suns have time to cook you, you think you know the way, stole glimpses through the half-shuttered windows of the hover-barge that brought you and the other unfortunates here. You grab a few things out of your quarters, the slippers, a few pieces of gaudy jewelry, probably fake, but might net you a handful of credits. Kark. The suns are going to cook you. You yank the threadbare sheet off your cot and wrap it around yourself in a makeshift robe. Now or never. You creep your way towards the bay. The vast doors are open, why wouldn't they be? The palace has plenty of speeder traffic, though you don't see anyone moving, maybe the raiders found what they wanted and cleared out, maybe-- "Going somewhere?" Dank farrik. Your skin prickles from the ends of your lekku to the tips of your toes. You raise your hands instinctively. The gunslinger. The one who shot through your chain and not your skull. “You told me to run," "And I assumed you weren't stupid," she says, "You got a pickup waiting? If not, you'll be dead in half a day." "You're going to give me back to him," "Who?" "Bib Fortuna." "Bib Fortuna is dead," she says. A ghost of a smile touches her lips, "But you are not. What's your next move? You got any contacts in Mos Eisley?" You shake your head. "Fennec? Sitrep." You hear the crackle of her comms. "Found a straggler," says Fennec, "Non-hostile." "Bring them up."

Fennec grips you arm lightly, leads you back up through the tunnels to the throne-room. Your insides quiver. Nothing good has ever happened to you in this room. The only thing that came close was when Fortuna would have one of his lackeys bring you the beautiful old Nabooan hallikset to play for a spell. He kept it displayed on the wall, just beyond the reach allowed by your chain, but when you were allowed to play, the room would grow quiet, the lackeys and scumbags and hangers on would stop their chatter and just listen, and there would be something like peace for however long Fortuna would grant it. He'd flick a hand at one of the guards who'd take the hallikset from your hands, and then he'd wrap an arm around you in a sideways hug, and sing your praises as if you were his talented daughter and not his property. And now he's dead, lying in a heap in front of his own throne. You eye the corpse. His eyes are wide open and clouded, obviously dead, but still-- "What have you brought me, Fen?" You look up at the man on the throne. Oh, Maker, a Mandalorian. You've never met one, but you've heard tales. They are feared for their efficiency and brutality in battle. And yet some of the stories paint them as honorable. "Found her in the vehicle bay," says Fennec. "Come here," he says, "Let me get a proper look at you." Fennec nudges you, her hand on the small of your back in a gentle push. "Go on," she murmurs, soft so only you can hear. You step around Bib Fortuna's cooling corpse like it might still try to reach out and grab you. The absurdity of the situation hits you. The man on the throne will decide your fate one way or another, a blaster shot through the heart or he'll send you packing or he'll keep you here, just another Bib Fortuna, maybe better and maybe worse and here you are, wrapped in a bedsheet. "Show me your hands," he says. The dark of his visor reveals nothing, but he offers his own gloved hands, palms up, so you do the same. The Mandalorian examines your hands. “So you have worked with your hands." “Yes, sir." "Good." You feel something loosen in your chest. If he was going to shoot you, he would have done it by now. He brushes your fingertips. "You play an instrument," he says. Your eyes flick to the wall where the hallikset hangs. "Yes," you say, "I was an apprentice--" Here you struggle, to translate what you were supposed to be into Basic, "Tale-singer?" Kriff, it sounds stupid in Basic. Before you were taken, you were tasked with knowing the stories, the songs of Ryloth, but also given the responsibility of finding new tales to tell, not all of them truthful. Utter fabrications and harsh truth are both equally dull, your mentor had told you, lie enough that the tale has interest, but keep truth enough that the message comes across. "Bard. I guess." "Show me." His helmet jerks towards the wall where the hallikset hangs. The collar is still around your neck, the stub of the chain thumps against your spine, but, for the first time since you were brought here, you go and get it by yourself, cradling it to your chest like a baby. You sit yourself at the foot of the throne and play like you have so many times before, the first song you learned, a lullaby old as Ryloth itself, the three moons racing across the sky as bothers, big brother and middle brother get in a fight, and the youngest wins the race. You sing in Ryl. You end the song. No one speaks. "I'm sorry. I'm rusty. It's been some time." The dark visor gives you nothing. You gingerly lean the hallikset against the throne and back up, careful not to tread on Fortuna's robes. You back into Fennec, who grips your arms gently. "What is your name, girl?" You give your name in Ryl. "But everyone just calls me Blue," you say. "I am Boba Fett." He says, "My associate is Fennec Shand. You work for us now. We will discuss the exact terms later. Take that collar off her, Fen. Find her some proper clothing." "You should have seen your face," Fennec grins at you. "Are you out of you suns-stroked mind?" You mean to yell, but it comes out more like a choked-off laugh "Why didn't you warn me?" You stab your arm back towards the throne room, "That's Boba karking Fett! If I'd've looked at him wrong he could've SHOT ME!" Fennec laughs, a brief baring of teeth. "He wouldn't have hurt you," she says, "He's Mandalorian." "What does that have to do with anything?" "Mandos have a habit of adopting people," says Fennec, "You are part of clan Fett now, like as not." No one touches you. No one makes you dance wearing leather and ribbons. For the first time since being abducted from Ryloth you are treated with dignity and respect. They pay you. It's not always much, but it's something, your own money, your own room with proper locks on the doors. Sometimes you play court musician, sometimes scribe, sometimes bartender, sometimes majordomo. Whatever role is required, your instructions are the same, eyes and ears. You are a soft thing in a crowd of hunters and hustlers, people have told you the most incredible things, thinking you are too naive, too stupid to understand, all happily spilled to Boba and Fennec over spotchka shots once the audience chamber clears out. And when Boba doesn't need you? You and Fennec are free to explore. The palace complex is huge, full of tunnels and chambers that the two of you are slowly mapping, marking the doorways and passages you've explored with bright paint. The B'omarr monks who built the palace still skitter through the passages. The first time you the two of you ran across one, Fennec drew her rifle. "No," you said and stepped between her and the stiffly walking spider droid, the brain inside it's housing bobbing gently in the cloudy liquid, "They have no weapons. They can't hurt us." You place your arm over hers and gently lower the rifle. "So you just let them wander around?" "They don't do anything. There's no point in hurting them." "Huh."

"Maker and stars," you mutter, "All this was down here the whole time?" The room looks like a Canto Bight rummage sale. All manner of art objects, furniture and rolled tapestries in stacks. Plast-sheeted clothing on racks. Paintings leaned haphazardly against the walls and each other. "You tell me," says Fennec, "This is your stomping ground." "Yeah, but I've never been this far down." You run a finger along one of the ornate frames, greasy with thick dust. "You think the boss will want any of this?" "Perhaps some of the art," says Fennec, "A lot of this is very old. Could fetch us some credits." You wander over to a rack of clothing, colorful dresses and robes in all lengths and cuts, some plain and some gaudy with pearls and lace. You lift the sheeting and stroke fabric that's softer than anything you've ever worn. "You might as well pick out a couple," says Fennec, "It'll all end up in market stall or a burn-pit anyway." "A couple? I'm taking this whole karking rack. Help me shove." "Stupid," she chides, "Let's call the mule-droid." "You know, this one with the dewflowers on it would look really nice on you." Fennec gives you that barely there smile, though her eyes glitter with merriment. “Never. In. Your. Life." You twitch your lekku in the equivalent of a shrug. "Fennec Shand, you are no fun." She raises an eyebrow. "I'm fun," she says, "I'm tons of fun." “Threatening to murder people does not count as fun." Fennec grins. "Don't knock it till you've tried it, Blue."

Slave One streaks up into the bright sky. Boba has to go off world for a handful of days, some sort of personal business to attend to. I expect to see this place still standing on my return, he'd said, try not to get yourselves arrested. "Who, us?" Said Fennec. "You end up in the drunk tank it comes out of your pay." "Noted."

"There's a festival in town tomorrow," you say, moving the cards in your hands. You and Fennec are playing Sabacc, a friendly game, no stakes, just to hone your skills and learn each other's tells so you can hustle in the cantinas. Not because you need to but because it's fun. "Yeah? An official one?" "No," you say, "Just a local thing." The Republic and the Empire both had sanctioned holidays, but in the Outer Rim that doesn't mean much. "The festival of the Twin Suns," you say, "It's about love. About being in love." You feel heat creeping from the tips of your lekku and over your face. You shake your head. "I don't know the whole story. Something about star-crossed lovers with a bad ending," you say. “You've never been," says Fennec. "No," you say, "But I always wanted to. They dance in the street. Everyone wears bright colors. Fortuna had after parties some times. Everyone seemed so happy." "We should go," says Fennec. "Really?" "Why not? Unless you just want to hang out and lose at Sabacc."

"Holy-karking-hell--" You mutter under your breath. Fennec wears a long, double-breasted jacket that looks straight out of some Old Republic holodrama, a tie the exact same blue as your skin tied at her throat, her traditional braid exchanged for something less severe, blue ribbon threaded through instead of the usual red. "Close you mouth before something flies in," she says. "Fen...wow," You clean up nice too. Let's go."

The Twin Suns Festival is every bit as loud and colorful as you imagined, brightly colored flags hang from every building, rainbow pennants and lanterns strung over the streets. Treaded crawlers drag mobile stages through the thronging streets, laden with musicians and dancers. Every so often, the sky explodes in a riot of fireworks. You and Fennec walk arm in arm so not to lose each other in the swelling crowd. You find a row of food stalls and share bantha kabobs so spicy your gums try to peel back from your teeth, followed by chilled spotchka froths to kill the burn. You share syrup smeared haroun bread and smile sticky smiles. In the streets, people hug, people kiss, people dance, all kinds of people, humans and Weequay and Twi'leks, a pair of Gamoreans lurk in a doorway and rub noses. A pair of Trandoshans point up at the starbursts of light splitting the night, their child laughing, gripping their parent's head ridges, a Bothan leans doubled over in laughter at something his Rodian friend just said. But not everything at the festival is happy chaos, as two of you wind your way towards the Great Square, things become more subdued. Rainbow colors still fly, but now the sills and doorways are lined with low burning lanterns and small candles. Small make-shift altars line the streets, again and again a portrait of two women, one in the simple garb of a moisture farmer, the other in a gown and headdress befitting a queen. Some iterations are crude, stick drawings pressed into tiles of sun-baked clay, others are ornate, woven tapestries threaded through with gold, bright pigments painted on stretched, scraped bantha hide. “This is them," you say, "The lovers. The twin suns." A pavilion stands in the center of the Great Square, draped in gauzy white fabric and lit with small hanging lanterns. Fennec takes your hand and tugs you towards it. "It's a shadow-play," she says, "I've never seen one." "Me neither." The Rodian at the tent entrance greets you warmly, presses printed flimsy flyers into your palms, a playbill of sorts, the names of the puppeteers and voice actors in bleared ink. You toss a few credits in the basket marked "donations" and make your way inside. You and Fennec seat yourselves towards the back. Children and smaller species sit on cushions right in front of the parchment screen. The screen is framed with heavy fabric on all sides to block the light.A few more patrons drift in and then they hood the lanterns. Delicately cut and articulated paper puppets tell the tale. The voices and narration are done in Basic and Huttese, one following the other, but the story is simple. A princess and the daughter of a moisture farmer fall in love. They keep the affair a secret until the princess is betrothed to an Outworld royal to cement a political alliance. The shadow-puppets dance behind the screen, backlit by flickering lanterns. A dance as old as the galaxy. A princess ensconced in a tower, pining for her true love. A clever pauper who scales the tower and frees her princess in the moonlight. Lovers who ran across the wastes and were swallowed up by the sands. "Searchers spread for days," says the narrator, "But the great dunes had drunk everything down. The hot winds erased every footprint." On the flickering screen two cut-paper women hold each other and slowly sink beneath swaying ripples of sand and then the line of the screen itself. "The shifting stands of our world are unforgiving," says the narrator. The light behind the stage changes color to the pinks and violets of dawn, "But it is said that the love the farmer and the princess had for each other was so powerful that the old gods of rock and wind and dune rejected their deaths." The shadowed dunes shift and sway and the lovers rise from beneath them, the ornate puppets replaced by simpler shapes, no crown for the princess, no dusty robes for the farmer just two mirror images facing each other. "Their souls rose from beneath the dunes and were carried on the currents of the Force--" They rise, paper girls floating in an imaginary sky "--to the suns that shine upon our world--" And with this the paper women flash into red flame, a collective oooh from the audience, and two stars appear, the greater and lesser Suns, cut from some red material that the light shines through, filling the white tent with ruddy light, the color of blood, but also of life "--The Suns of Tatooine burn hot, because, even through ages long lost and forgotten, their love for each other remains strong. The warmth you feel after the long cold night, that is their warmth, their gift to you, and to all of us."

There is a beat of silence and then applause erupts. Your cheeks are wet with tears. The puppeteers and narrators emerge from behind the dark curtains and bow. You paw at your face, hoping Fennec doesn't notice, which is futile. Fennec notices everything. She puts her arm around you and squeezes, her eyes seeking yours. "You ok, Blue?" She asks, but she's not teasing at all this time, her face gives nothing but concern. "Yeah, I'm good," you say, "I never knew the whole story. It's really kriffing sad. I kinda knew what to expect, but still--" Fennec tugs you to your feet. You were so engrossed in the shadow-play that you didn't realize you were still holding her hand. "C'mon," says Fennec. Her eyes shine in the low light, but that little smile creeps across her face, "Let's get a couple more of those spotchka froths so we can cry into them." You snort laughter. "That sounds like a plan."

"Oh, kriff," Fennec's expletive snaps you back to reality. You'd been lost in the music, grooving out to the horns, dancing because you wanted to and not because some sleemo holding the end of your chain expected it, moving your body in the way it wants to move. Fennec sounds scared and you are instantly a shade more sober. "Oh, kriff what?" "Kanjiklub," she says, and jerks her head towards the other side of the street, a trio of armed roughs argue loudly with a vendor, "They've got a price on my head. They see me, I'm dead." She pulls you into a shadowed doorway, "Quick, kiss me like you mean it!" You press your mouth to hers, flick at her lower lip with your tongue and she opens for you. The kiss is slow and languid, the gentle slide of your tongues, the plush heat of her mouth, the soft sounds she makes in the back of her throat. You cup her cheek, the pad of your thumb stroking the faint scars there. Her fingers brush the length of a lek, the faintest of touches but enough to light you up. You push her into the wall and kiss her harder. When you break the kiss, the two of you stand, foreheads pressed together, arms wound around each other, your chests heaving in tandem. "Hey Fen?" You breathe against her lips. "Yeah, Blue?" "I think..." you press your lips to hers again, a chaste kiss that she smiles into, "I think I meant it." "I think I meant it too," says Fennec, "How about we go home and do something about it?" "Yeah, let's go home. Just keep any eye out for those Kanjiklub goons." "What Kanjiklub goons?" She smirks and you huff. "Menace." "Your menace."

@honestly-shite , @draper-bobbie, @artemiseamoon

#writer wednesday #fennec shand x f!reader #fennec shand x f!twi'lek reader

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

Note

statement regarding the sudden disappearance of all my childhood memories and subsequent photos, gradually, over the course of four years

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Jasmine Harper, regarding the disappearance of all childhood memories and photographs over the course of four years. Original statement given July 21, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I can’t really remember when it was that I noticed. It was a gradual thing, but at the same time it felt so sudden… like I woke up one morning and they were all gone, or at least most of them were. But I know that isn’t what happened at all, is it? The more I think about it, the more I realise that I began to forget years and years before I realised something was truly wrong. I thought it was normal, you know? I thought it was just part of getting older. I mean, how many of us get out of university able to recall the full names of everyone in our first primary school class? I took Psychology for one of my A-Levels, actually, and when we did our module on memory that was one of the tests. I must have been able seventeen then, so it was before I noticed this happening. We had to take a sheet of paper and write down every full name we could remember from our first primary school class. I won by a landslide, and I had five names. Only five names! But that’s the thing – I used to have such a good memory when it came to my childhood. That’s why I can’t understand what’s happening.

I had a good childhood. This isn’t any childhood trauma or anything like that. I mean, there were some nasty moments in it, like any childhood is prone to have – I had a problem with bullies when I first started high school, nothing out of the ordinary but you know how cruel kids can be, and when you’re that age it sticks with you. My parents divorced when I was fourteen, but there was nothing specifically traumatic about that. It sucked, and I was sad to see them sad, but they remained civil through the whole thing and actually got on better afterwards, so it wasn’t like there were screaming matches or anything. They were careful to keep my brother and I updated on everything, which I was thankful for. It was nice, that they didn’t do what a lot of parents seem to do – treat us like small children, and not young adults who would also be affected by the situation. If I ever get a divorce, I hope to god it’s as pleasant as my parents’ was. There’s nothing in my childhood that I can pinpoint that might have caused this, and that seems to be a common cause of forgetting, at least – trauma, mental illness, something like that. I’ve… struggled with depression sometimes, but never anything that I didn’t get under control with the right combination of things. Really, I’m a completely normal, average person. There’s nothing that could have caused this at all. I’ve been to doctors, I’ve had brain scans, I was worried it was some kind of tumour or stroke, but no. Nothing. I’m perfectly healthy, but I don’t feel it.

As I said, it began gradually. I realised I was forgetting things; small things. The address of the house I lived in until I was five. Old phone numbers. The last names of childhood friends. Some of my teachers’ names. None of it was unusual. I’m pretty sure everyone forgets those things, so I wasn’t worried at all. A little annoyed sometimes, because it really felt like getting old, or I couldn’t randomly look somebody up on Facebook to see how they were doing or something, but really it wasn’t unusual at all. It was only when I started forgetting bigger things that I began to grow concerned. I mean, this was stuff that I shouldn’t forget at all, or that was relatively recent. I know for most people, childhood probably means when they were a smaller child; before they hit their teenage years, perhaps. Well, this seems to be taking the legal definition of child as its guide, because I found myself forgetting things that happened when I was sixteen, seventeen years old. I mean, that’s not that long ago! That’s not even ten years ago! I began to forget huge chunks of time; before I knew it I couldn’t recall my earliest memories, and then I couldn’t recall anything from primary school. It’s just blank, like trying to think about what was there before I was born. Still I told myself it wasn’t that much to worry about, but then it began creeping up and up, and back then I still had the photographs. I could look through photo albums or friends’ Facebook pages and see what I was forgetting: a birthday party at Alton Towers when we were eleven, the school ski trip to Italy when we were fourteen, our school’s knock-off idea of an American prom when we were seventeen. There I am, in all of the pictures, grinning and present and definitely there. But I can’t remember a thing about the day at all!

I finally accepted something was terribly wrong at my aunt’s wedding. She was getting married pretty later on in life because she was kind of wild as a young adult, didn’t want to settle down or anything. Everyone was fond of her – she always had the most interesting stories and she’s just a lot of fun to be around – and so the whole family was there to see her get married: all the surviving grandparents, great aunts and uncles, cousins, partners, friends, kids, even the dogs were invited. It was a beautiful summer day and everyone was having so much fun and I know this sounds stupid but I feel so mad that this had to happen on that day of all days, because nothing bad is supposed to happen at a wedding, right? Well, everything was fine until late into the reception, and we were all a little drunk but not overly so. I was sitting with my mum and brother at a table with some cousins and my aunt and her new wife, and we were all reminiscing about other crazy family parties and stuff. I was talking about my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary, that happened when I was twelve or thirteen. I was telling some story – of course I can’t even remember what it was now, but it was something about me and my brother and the cousins that were at the table with us, and I was talking about it just fine and then, literally mid-sentence, I forgot it. Not just what we were doing, but the whole event. I didn’t even know I was talking about the anniversary until my brother prompted me, and then it was just blank. My brother and cousins all picked up the story and I laughed along and played it up like I’d had a little too much wine, you know, haha, but I mean it when I say it was gone. And not only that – it felt taken from me. It felt as though somebody had reached into my head and just�� plucked the memory right out.

It bothered me so much that I went to visit my mum shortly afterwards. We sat down and had a few cups of tea and eventually I worked up the courage to ask if I could root around in the photo albums, saying that the wedding had reminded me of a few things I wanted to look at again – ironic, I know. Mum was of course down to get out all the albums – she never went digital, she doesn’t like not having physical albums to look through – so we dragged a bunch of them down and sat around the table to look. The first one was normal, just a family holiday to Florida when I was sixteen, but as we started going through the older albums I noticed there were pictures of me missing that I know for a fact existed. They were just gone, and then there were others where I knew I should be there but I wasn’t. And Mum didn’t think anything was strange! There was one picture, I remember it so clearly because we almost got into a big fight about it, and it was of my brother dressed as Spider Man on Halloween. I distinctly remember that night because I was dressed as the Pink Power Ranger and the costume was uncomfortable as hell, so I know I was there. I know I was in that picture, because it was such a ridiculous picture, the two of us in full bodied costumes like that, and I finally mentioned to my mum that I should be in there. Not aggressively or anything, just oh, I could have sworn I was in that one!, and she denied it and I insisted and she kept saying no, she was sure it was just George in that picture, but then I pointed out that George had his arm out in mid-air like it should be around someone. It was clearly around my shoulders. The height was right, his fingers were slightly curled like they were pressing in to my arm. Mum just looked for a moment, and I thought, briefly, that she might finally see it – but then she just said George was doing a Spider Man pose, like shooting a web from his wrist or something, and I just… I don’t even know. I just felt so hopeless, I almost cried. I was sure, so sure! Mum’s always taken photos, even now – every holiday, every event, even just going over for Sunday dinner. She’s told me several times I loved being in front of the camera as a kid, so I know there must have been way more pictures of me than that. Mum just didn’t get what I was on about, though, so I gave up in the end. There was no use fighting. What could I say?

Well, that was when I went to the doctor. I’ve already outlined how useless that was. Nothing wrong with me at all, apparently, but I’m sure most of them weren’t really taking me seriously. I was told it couldn’t be all my memories, and that photographs didn’t just vanish. I was seconds away from getting referred to a psychiatrist when I decided I would be better off shutting up about it. I’m not—I don’t think this is mental illness. I’ve looked it up so many times and I’ve read about people being delusional, you know, not believing they’re the ones in the picture, or that other people in the picture have been replaced, but that’s not what’s happening here. I haven’t read anything about like what’s happening to me. Nobody is out there saying they’re forgetting their entire childhood, birth to eighteen, and the pictures are vanishing along with it. There is something else going on here but I don’t know what. I’ve never done anything to deserve this, I’ve never messed around with anything I shouldn’t. If this is something like—like what you people investigate, I do not know when I would have come across it. I don’t even know what I mean by this. It seems ridiculous to even consider that it could be a ghost, or a curse, or—or God knows what.

A few weeks after this I went to Mum’s again, and one of the photo albums was still out. I looked through it and I was gone from every single picture. I was not there at all. Even the ones I saw only recently, I was gone from them. Just George on his own, and in the spaces where pictures of just me should be, other photos had replaced them. Just scenery shots, or views from the hotel balcony, or Christmas decorations and piles of presents, or spreads of holiday food. Nothing Mum would put in there herself. She likes to preserve the details, but her albums are for people. Her photos in the albums always have people or pets in them. I showed her, pretending it was just out of interest, but she seemed to not know what I meant. “I’ve always accessorised”, was what she said. Something about context, making it a pretty spread, keeping all the themes together. I don’t know. It was nothing that Mum would say, anyway. She was always so militant about it – at least up until recently.

I walked around the house a bit and of course I was gone from the rest of the pictures, too. My school photos were all gone, and all the framed pictures on bedside tables or shelves showed just my brother, or more scenery. There was one picture of the rose bush in the garden and I knew for a fact I was supposed to be standing in front of it, because it was my prom picture and I was wearing a dress the exact same shade of red as the roses, and Mum wanted to get a picture of me standing in front of it to show off the perfect colour match. There was just the rose bush, and even when I picked up the frame and looked closely at the picture, I could see no signs that it had ever been anything but. I wondered why it was still there, because pictures of just me usually vanished and got replaced by something else entirely, but then I saw in the corner, almost hidden by the frame, the faintest pink blur of part of my mother’s finger. Is that all it takes? Is one blurry finger worth more than my entire being? I don’t understand what’s going on!

I think… I think I could deal with it easier, if it wasn’t for the fact that everybody seems to think nothing is wrong. If it was just one of those weird things, I think I could live with it if my parents and brother were also with me on it, knowing it was weird, being concerned. I’ve looked everywhere and they’re all gone, all the photos, in every relative’s house and on Facebook. The earliest ones I can find are on my eighteenth birthday party. Everything before that is gone. I don’t remember anything. It’s like I materialised at age eighteen and there was nothing before that; I don’t even really know who I am anymore. I can’t know, because all the steps I took to get here are gone, and everything I learned about my family and friends as I grew up alongside them has vanished. I feel completely… completely detached, completely adrift, and I don’t know if I’m being paranoid but it just feels like there’s a little less of me every day. It’s like I spent eighteen years building up, and now I’m just… fading away.

I don’t know what to do.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

This is a fairly straightforward one to follow up. There isn’t really much to say. On the surface it does very much seem like a case for a doctor rather than the Institute, but some things do seem to back up part of the story, at least. Attempts to get in contact with Ms Harper were unsuccessful, as it seems she does not exist. There are a couple of records here and there of a Ms Harper matching the age and occupation that she provided with her statement, but when Tim contacted the workplaces involved, nobody could recall her. As for anything else – records such as a birth or death certificate, a driver’s license – there is nothing. Of course, she could have provided a fake name, but Tim managed to get in touch with George Harper, Ms Harper’s younger brother, and confirmed it was the same George Harper by asking a few questions about his childhood. He recalled several holidays and weddings that Ms Harper mentioned, though he mentioned nothing about a sister. When questioned about siblings, he was adamant he had never had one, and had grown up an only child. I’m not entirely sure how he did it, and nor am I inclined to want to know, but Tim managed to persuade Mr Harper to give him the contact information for his parents. Both stated that they had only one child – a son. The only Jasmine in the family seems to be Mrs Harper’s pet pug dog; apparently, Mrs Harper “always liked the name”, but had never had the chance to use it.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much more we can do regarding this one.

End recording.

#tma #statement prompts #my writing #fakements #long post #anon #asks

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youkiyoh · 5 years ago

Text

concerns

pairing : peter parker x reader

genre : superhero au

summary : being the girlfriend of a superhero has its perks. You love Peter with all your heart, and so did he. When you voice out your concerns over him getting into danger every night, a storm brews over your relationship. With your life at stake, what will Peter do to fix things?

My first ever marvel / tom writing, hope you enjoy!! :))

“Pete what’re you doing?”

“Cuddling you.”

“We’re suppose to be studying.” You giggle, leaning back against the headboard momentarily. “May’s gonna walk in.”

“I locked the door.” Peter whispers softly, wiggling his brows at you.

“Why’re you so clingy today?” You hum, smiling as the boy nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You lift one hand up to ruffle the curls that you love so much, earning a sigh from him.

“Just tired.” His words getting muffled against your skin. Peter lifts his head up, sending you a sleepy smile as he leans down to connect your lips together.

“Y/N are you staying- woah!”

“It’s nothing!” Peter jumps away from you, the rosiness apparent on both of your cheeks as May stood in the doorway, peeking out from between her fingertips. You clear your throat, straightening yourself back up. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

“Yeah, okay great.” She drops her hand to her side, nodding slightly. “I’m already preparing it, you two.. have fun.”

“Locked the door huh?” You smirk, hearing the door click shut.

“I swear I did.” Peter rolls his eyes, falling back against his bed. “That was embarrassing.”

“Is it?” You chuckle, leaning down to peck your boyfriend. “Come on, I need help with this chapter.” You pat his forearm, forcing Peter to get back up.

——————————————————————————

“So, how’s it going?” MJ asks, picking at her lunch. “Is dating Peter as amazing as you imagined it to be?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, your attention focused on your physics notebook in front of you. You had a test after this that you really wanted to do well on. You’ve spent the entire weekend studying for this.

“Y/N.” She snaps her fingers in front of your face, successfully gaining your attention for a short while. “Hey, you’ll do fine. Your lunch’s getting cold.”

“MJ, you know how bad I am at physics.” You groan, desperately trying to cramp the formulas into your brain. “Besides, this is graded!”

“You had a Physics genius tutor you the whole of Saturday.” MJ laughs, referring to Peter. “It must have rubbed off onto you a little.”

“Come on, close the damn book.” She orders, snatching the reading material out of your hands before you could protest. “No point doing last minute studying.”

MJ was right. The test wasn’t so bad after all. It was manageable, to your surprise.

Humming to the study playlist you had playing in the background, you click your tongue happily, solving yet another question.

A knock on your window had you peeking up from your pile of notes, a smile gracing your lips as you motion the figure outside your window to enter.

“Hey,” You greet, your smile fading slowly as you watched him limp his way in. “Peter?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He breathes out, slumping into your arms completely as you struggled to support his body weight. “Just a little sore.”

“Come on.” You grunt, laying him back down against your bed. “Take it off.”

He obeyed, tugging his mask off to reveal his battered up features.

“Crap, what the hell did you do?” You whisper harshly, grabbing his face in yours to look over his injuries, only to pull away when he winced slightly. “Sorry..”

“It was.. I don’t know, that guy was strong.”

“Take your suit off..” You whisper, rummaging through your cabinet to grab the medical kit you’re so used to by now.

“Pete that doesn’t look good.” You frown, looking over the gash at the side of his abdomen.

“It’ll heal.” He groans out, eyes squeezed shut. “I had it worse.”

“Stay still..”

“That guy’s still out there.” Peter spoke mostly to himself, pushing his hair back in frustration. You kept quiet, tucking the bandage snugly around his stomach.

“All done.”

“Thanks.” He smiles, running his hand over your knuckles. Normally you would have returned his affection, but not tonight. It probably wasn’t a good idea to get mad at your boyfriend especially when he’s in this state, but you couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“You okay?” Peter asks, sensing that something was off. You just nodded, placing the kit back to where it belongs. “Yeah, just.. it was a long day today.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He pats the spot next to him, scooting over slightly to grant you space.

“No it’s fine. You need to rest.” Finding him a pair of clothes he left at your house the other time, you toss it over to Peter.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, making his way over to you slowly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s the third time Peter.” You whisper, looking him straight in the eyes. Those eyes that you adored so much. “This is the third time I had to patch you up over the last 2 months.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? I’m worried!” You exclaim, being careful not to be too loud as your parents were probably sleeping. “You go out every night saving the world, what if you get seriously injured one day? What if you don’t come back? I wouldn’t know because you’d be out there and I won’t be able to find you and..”

Peter presses his lips against yours, something he’s used to doing whenever you rambled too much. This time he frowns however, not feeling you reciprocate.

“Are you that worried about me that you won’t even kiss me back?” He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

“And mad.” You spat, narrowing your eyes at him. “You taste like blood.”

“Come on Y/N, this is what I do, and you know I love it! You don’t have to be worried, I know how to take care of myself, I’m Spider-Man.”

“Which is why I can’t stop you can I?” You chuckle softly, running your hand gently over his bandaged injury.

“Not a chance.” Peter smirks, cupping your jaw as he leans down, smiling when you finally caved in and kissed him back.

“I love you.”

——————————————————————————

It’s true, dating a superhero is cool. There’s no doubt about that.

But watching as he fought people everyday but not being able to help? That sucked.

“You’re late.” You tap on your watch, turning your wrist to show Peter the time.

“10 minutes!” He exclaim, making his way into your room and dropping his backpack to the ground. “I got you these.”

“If this is how you’re going to make up for it,” Your eyes widen, grabbing the box of tarts from him. “You can be late all you want Parker.”

“I bet there’s other ways to make up for me being tardy you know..” The boy trailed off, sending you a suggestive look.

“What happened to the Peter that struggled to ask me out on a date?” You giggle, mouth full. “Where did he go?”

“He didn’t go anywhere.” Peter teases, popping a tart into his mouth. “He just got confident.”

“Mmhm.” You hum, moving to your table to get your materials ready for your study session.

“Can we not?” Peter asks, slamming your books back down. “We could watch a movie.”

“Don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

He shrugs, letting out a yawn. “I’m ready for it.”

“I get it, you’re smart.” You shake your head, deciding to give in to his request. Maybe a night off wouldn’t be so bad.

“So..Return of the Jedi?”

——————————————————————————

“Y/N?” Peter shakes you softly, prying your limbs off his body. “Hey.. wake up. I have to go.”

“Now?” You rub your eyes groggily, proceeding to cling onto your boyfriend tighter, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Yeah he’s been active at night. I have to figure it out.”

Obliging, you rolled over to the other side of your bed, opting to cuddle your pillow instead. “Okay, be safe.”

“I will.”

Slinging his bag over his shoulders, Peter presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before sliding your window open, swinging off into the night.

——————————————————————————

“Great.” Peter groans, falling onto the couch as he let out a dry cough. Applying pressure to the gash that got worse, he winced, peeking up to examine his wound. It was healing well after you patched him up the other day. Not anymore.

“Y/N’s gonna kill me..” Peter mutter to himself, staring blankly at the ceiling while waiting for Happy to get back to him.

That guy’s a tough one.

“Here, I’m here.” Happy’s voice echoed throughout the room and Peter slowly got up from his position.

“You do know how to stitch don’t you?” Peter asks, hitting the button on his chest to get out from the suit. “Because I’ll definitely need it this time.”

“This is gonna hurt.” Happy warns, thread and needle already in hand. Peter nods, squeezing his eyes shut as the sharp metal pierced through his skin.

Let’s just say stitches is now on the list of things Peter Parker hates.

——————————————————————————

“Hey.” You smile widely, nudging Peter’s shoulder with yours gently as you saw him in the hallway.

“Hi. You ready to go?”

“Yep,” You rub your hands together excitedly, popping the last syllabus of the word. “I’m starving.”

The hallways were buzzing with students considering classes just ended. Squeezing your way through the crowd, you heard a light groan from the boy when you accidentally elbowed his torso.

“Sorry!” You whisper, your features nothing but apologetic.

“It’s fine.” Peter purses his lips into a tight smile, urging you to continue forward. You frown, noticing the way his brows scrunch together in pain. It’s been a week since you fixed him up. Given his abilities, shouldn’t he have healed by now?

“How was it last night?” You ask casually while you and Peter grabbed lunch. “You have a cut.”

“Oh, as usual, nothing much.” Peter shrugs, his voice cracking a little. “Pretty good actually, only one person got robbed.”

You kept mum nevertheless, even though you knew immediately that he was hiding something. For someone who has such a huge secret to keep, you were surprised at how easily it is to see through your boyfriend when he lied.

Well, he did make it super obvious.

——————————————————————————

“I don’t see your shirt anywhere Y/N.” Peter scratches his head, rummaging through his closet to look for a grey sweater. The clothing you’ve claim to have left in his room when you last visited. “You sure you left it here?”

“I didn’t, it’s at home.” You stated truthfully, folding your arms together. “Pete, could you lift your shirt up?”

“What?”

“What? I just wanted to see how you’re healing.”

“I’m healing.. fine. Why’d you ask?” He waves you off, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped forward, gripping the clothing in your hand and lifting it up before he could protest.

“You call that healing fine?” You scoff, his shirt pulling back into place once Peter tugs your wrist forcefully away. “How bad was it last night?”

You didn’t have to lift his shirt to know that there were more injuries hiding underneath there.

“It’s just a cut Y/N, I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it. I’ve dealt with worse things before just so you know.”

“Yeah, just a cut now. You might be sliced in half the next time.”

Peter snaps his head up to you, his eyes staring at yours with a hint of anger. “Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?” You frown in disbelief, not liking where this was going. “I’m worried about you.”

“Well I’m just saying that you don’t have to be.” Peter rolls his eyes, his curls falling into his face. “I know what I’m doing Y/N. I won’t get killed.”

“Why do I even bother having this conversation with you..” You mumble, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You started it first.” Peter accuses, his chest heaving up and down.

“Because I care about you! Okay?!”

“Maybe you care too much! I don’t need it, seriously!”

You gulp, fists balled tightly against your side as you processed his words. Silence fell upon the room, neither of you speaking a word after the outburst.

“Just leave Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You know if Stark was still around, he’d care just as much.”

Grabbing your bag off the ground, you glanced at Peter, closing the door shut.

“Hey, everything okay there?” May asks the moment you clicked Peter’s door shut, scaring you a little. Blinking away the tears that you could feel forming, you gave her a tight smile, nodding softly.

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

With how loud the both of you had been shouting, she must have heard everything.

“I know where you’re coming from.” May sighs, rubbing your arm reassuringly. “I feel the same way sometimes.”

“He’s just.. stressed. Give him some time, I’m sure he didn’t mean any of that.”

“I know he doesn’t.” You shrug, silently thanking her for being so caring. “I should go, see you soon May.”

You hate fighting. You’ve always hated confrontation in general. Especially when it’s with someone you loved. You’ve never really fought with Peter throughout the 6 months of your relationship. It was usually all childish bickering.

You felt bad, definitely. Maybe he was right.. maybe you were being too clingy?

——————————————————————————

“Quick question, did you guys fight?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” Ned snorts, looking back and forth between you and Peter. “It kinda is.”

“Great to know.” You reply sarcastically, leaning your head against your palms as you aimlessly copied whatever was written on the board.

At lunch, you stuck to MJ while Peter did the same with Ned. They felt awkward. So did you.

So this is what fighting with your partner feels like.

As much as you were completely over the fight, you wanted to give Peter space. That’s what he wanted isn’t it?

——————————————————————————

Two days later, still nothing.

Chemistry’s the one class that the both of you would sit together. Mainly because it’s the only class that neither of you had other friends in.

Even with sitting next to each other, the tension was still there.

Looking over to Peter, you could care less if he caught you staring at this point. You just wanted to look at him.

He had a small cut on his right cheekbone that wasn’t there before.

Resisting the urge to reach out and touch him, you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your pen tighter.

When all of a sudden, Peter’s hand found yours.

His grip was extremely tight, and when you looked over, you notice how his hair was standing.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, his frown evident.

“Something’s wrong.” He whispers back, eyes darting back and forth out of the window. “I’m sensing something.”

“I need to go. Stay clear if anything happens, you hear me?” Peter warns, grabbing his bag swiftly and dashing out of the classroom.

“He’s got a.. his lunch was old.” You help him cover up. Your teacher was not pleased to say the least.

——————————————————————————

No calls, nothing.

You were worried sick. Every single time you call Peter, it sent you straight to voicemail. It’s been 7 hours since he dashed out of class, surely whatever happened would have been over by now?

A knock on your window had you jumping out of bed, and you swore you couldn’t have smiled brighter seeing the familiar red and blue suit appear outside your house.

So much so that you didn’t realise that it was a little..odd.

“Peter?” You whisper, grabbing his arm to help him in. “You don’t know how worried I was. I’m sorry about the fight, okay? I know I shouldn’t have interfered but I was.. whatever, you get what I mean.”

You frown when he wouldn’t budge, crouching outside your windowsill with zero intentions to enter. “Pete? Are you still mad at me?”

Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you watch as your boyfriend pull his mask off to reveal, well, someone that wasn’t your boyfriend.

Well, shit.

“Jumping into action, you grab onto the window handles, desperately pulling it down with as much force you could muster.

That guy was much quicker however, grabbing your wrists with the speed of lightning as you struggled against him to no avail.

You should have followed Peter to the gym more often.

“You miss your boyfriend that much? Let’s take you to him shall we?”

With a hit to the neck, your vision went black.

——————————————————————————

You woke up to a sore at the back of your neck. Reaching your hand up to soothe it, you realise you couldn’t.

Jolting to your senses, the memories came flooding back to you as you tugged at your wrists. They were bounded behind your back.

Frantically, you took in your surroundings, finding nothing. Everything was pitch black, it was almost as if you were blind.

“Hello?” You call out hoarsely, your voice echoing through the room, sending shivers down your spine. You continued wriggling through your constraints, hoping that the rope will magically break somehow, only to find yourself hissing in pain when they dug deep into your skin.

“Okay..” You mumble to yourself quietly, panic rising in your chest. “It’s fine, you’re fine, Peter will find you. He will.”

“Trying to comfort yourself?”

You flinch at the voice, whipping your head towards the source of it. “Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know, young lady.” He chuckles, the sound of his footsteps coming closer to you radiating off the ground. “All I need is for your boyfriend to know that you’re in my hands.”

You gulp, inching further into the chair that did nothing to protect you. You squeezed your eyes shut, finding his face dangerously close to yours.

“Let’s go wait for the boy, shall we?”

——————————————————————————

“Oh god..” You blink back the tears, desperately trying to hold them back in. The wind tonight wasn’t helping your situation at all, you being merely in a t-shirt and sweats.

At this point, these guys standing in front of you wasn’t even what you were afraid of. They would be, only if you weren’t at the edge of a 30 floor building’s rooftop right now. You’re terribly afraid of heights.

“You sure you didn’t accidentally kill him off?” The guy whose name you recognise as Mac spoke up. That’s what the other guys have been calling him.

“I’m sure he had it worse than getting hit by a train, right?” The guy holding onto you asks, tilting your chair forward in the process. You whimper slightly, the tears now rolling down your cheeks freely.

“If he doesn’t come in the next 10, just throw her off.” Mac grunts, walking down the roof.

Breathe Y/N, Peter’s gonna come soon.

And he did. Your boyfriend appeared soon enough, his suit dirtied in random places.

“You shouldn’t have touched her.” He growls, webbing the two other guys down immediately.

“Y/N..” He breathes out, grabbing you off the edge and untangled your ropes frantically. “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

Shaking your head, you tried to get a grip of yourself to warn Peter that he wasn’t done yet.

“Pete the guy, he went downstairs, he-”

“Peter Parker.”

Freezing in place, you gulp, eyes darting to meet the figure standing behind both of you. Peter tensed, his arm tightening under yours.

“Happy will be here soon.” He whispers, shooting a smile you can’t see. “Just stay here while I take care of him.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between the fighting pair, everything moving past you like a whirlwind. Opting to squat near the corner, you tried your best to shield yourself, hoping that the villain would somehow forget about your existence on the roof.

You thought wrong.

Taking advantage of Peter being on the ground, the man strides over to you and picked you up with ease, lifting you off the edge once again.

Tears made their way down your cheeks for the countless time that night as you gripped onto his arm for dear life. You could hear the faint sound of yells and pleas, but you were too scared to care.

Before you know it, you’re falling.

“Y/N!”

Everything was a blur, the vision of the roof getting distant with every passing second. This is it. You’re about to die.

Within the next second, you felt a warm body collide into yours, hugging you close for dear life as you hit the ground with a loud thud, surprisingly unscathed.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks from below you, his voice coming out as a groan. You clung tightly to him, a sob escaping your lips as you nod weakly, frightened out of your wits to say anything else.

All of a sudden, you heard what seemed like knives against grass as Peter switches your position, shielding you from whatever the hell was raining down upon you two.

“Y/N I need you to listen to me.” He whispers hastily, hands reaching down to your waist. “Happy’s here, I’m gonna swing you up to the jet okay? Just hang on to me.”

You nod once again because at this point, what choice did you have? Peter had only took you swinging through New York once and due to how new your relationship was, you didn’t tell him about your fear. Safe to say, that was the last time you’ve ever glide through the city.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you kept your eyes squeezed shut until you could no longer feel the cool breeze of the night and you felt yourself standing on something.

“Be careful.” You sniff, letting go of your boyfriend as he sets you down inside the jet. He nods, wiping your tear swiftly before shooting a web, swinging away from you and the opening of the jet closes.

“You good?” Happy yells from the pilot’s seat, glancing back slightly to look at you.

“Yeah.” You assure, hugging yourself closely as you sat down. “Just a little shaken. Where are we going?”

“Do you wanna go home?”

“No, my parents would freak out if they saw me like this.” You rejected the offer, shaking your head profusely. “I don’t have my phone with me.. could you get MJ to tell my parents I’m staying at hers tonight? They weren’t home when I left so..”

“Sure, easy.”

“Thanks Happy.”

——————————————————————————

The Avengers Facility was definitely different than what you imagined. Sure, you’ve heard about if from Peter but seeing it for yourself was.. unreal.

Tapping your foot impatiently against the ground, you grip your glass of water tighter in your hands as Peter was still not back yet. You pull your knees to your chest, completely engulfed in Peter’s scent. Happy had given you his clothes in the facility for you to change into.

“Y/N?” Your ears perk up at the mention of your name and you shot up immediately, relief flooding your body as Peter stood in front of you, absolutely worn out.

“Oh thank god..” You breathe out, a smile tugging your lips as you engulfed him in a hug.

“Hey..” He chuckles, hands wrapping around your waist. “You good?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, not really wanting to relive tonight’s incident again. Pulling away to look into his eyes, Peter smiles slightly at the way your brows scrunch together as you examine his beaten up features.

“Come on.” You mumble, grabbing his hand and tugging him along. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Actually,” You stop halfway, shaking your head at your stupidity. “Lead the way, I don’t know where I’m going, this place is huge.”

“Tell me about it.” Peter hums, pushing you towards what you suppose is the medical room.

——————————————————————————

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, dabbing the antiseptic solution against Peter’s chest as he leans against the counter. “I shouldn’t have got so worked up about it, I know how you feel about being Spider-Man, I just.. yeah. Won’t do it again. Promise.”

“Pretty sure I was the one being an asshole, but I don’t mind you apologising first. I could get used to this concept.”

“Shut up.” You push his shoulder playfully, your lips curling into a smile.

“I’m sorry too.” He finally whispers back, guilt evident in his voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive, I know you mean well. If I hadn’t caught you in time, I wouldn’t know how..”

“Just.. be more wary when you do this okay? The world needs you. I need you.” You whisper the last part.

“Anything for you. I promise, nothing of that sort will ever happen again. I’ll keep you safe.” Peter stares, his eyes darting down to your lips. Realising his intentions, you lift your head slightly as his lips brush across yours before he closes the space between you two.

His hand traces up to your jaw as he cups your face, pulling you flush against him to deepen the kiss. You unconsciously smile into the kiss, goosebumps lining your skin as Peter slips one hand under your shirt, tracing patterns against your back.

��May wasn’t kidding when she said you two will get frisky.” Peter groans, burying his head in the crook of your neck as Happy’s voice echoed through the corridor. You laugh, the heat creeping up to your cheeks, your hands reaching up to brush through his locks.

“I swear, I’m investing in a door lock.” Peter mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled.

“You probably should.” You hum along, tapping his forearm lightly. “Get up, put a shirt on or something.”

“How? You’re wearing mine.” He points out, motioning towards his sweater engulfing your small frame.

“Here.” You snort, tossing him one that you found earlier on. He can’t possibly only have one piece of clothing in this massive building.

Pulling the fabric over his head, Peter pauses for a second, his eyes narrowing into a tight line.

“How did.. Happy! Did you visit my Aunt just now?”

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tangleweave · 3 years ago

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How do you get your muse in the zone to work on asks/replies?

Favorite thread?

Are you easily distracted when doing replies/asks? Or are you “in the zone?”

Draft threads or word document?

Have you made OCs before?

Do you get inspiration from music? Images? Other?

How do you get your muse in the zone to work on asks/replies?

GUH. I don't have a good answer to this because I have seven muses, and all of them are fickle... oftentimes all at once! You would think that it affords me the opportunity to shift from one to another if there are muses I'm not feeling, but the truth is they're all twined into my inspiration to write in the first place. Sometimes I just have to make myself sit down and do it, and resign myself to the notion that my reply won't hit that character's tone 100% on the money. But I do get closer to the zone if I drown out the noise around me (I live in a loud house). The one tool I use most often to do this is my set of Bose 700 OTE headphones. Sometimes I'll listen to music I like to get me into a mood... but more often, I won't be listening to anything at all. I just need the quiet.

Favorite thread?

I don't think I can pin down a single favorite. I easily have three. The first is "Supremes", a slow-burn thread with @sigynthevictorious that's chock-full of action, angst, and romance. The second is "Rooftop Rendezvous", a novella thread with @brooklynislandgirl that establishes the beginning of one of my absolute favorite ships ever. Third is "Nat 2.0", a post-Endgame suspense/action thread with @the-blackest-spider that reunites two Avengers who got done very dirty by the MCU. (I'm not bitter.) All three of these writers are bursting to the seams with literary talent and it's my incredible honor and privilege to have a hand in inspiring them to words that knock me down with every post.

Are you easily distracted when doing replies/asks? Or are you “in the zone?”

I'm easily distracted, period. Though I'll admit that it's helpful to have asks and replies rather than trying to write a freeform starter because I at least have some structure and direction present in the prompt.

I mentioned the headphones earlier... those serve as both my personal remedy and my recommendation. Oftentimes, and regrettably, there are people in my house who don't take me seriously when they see me sitting at my desk struggling to write, because the struggle is internal and not visible. It tends to manifest as me staring off into space or listening to the music I need to get me into the zone, and they take it as invitation to give my brain something to do (no matter how many times I've tried to explain to them that I am not available for engagement right now, thank you). The headphones don't just negate most of the noise and attention-seeking methodology, they're also visible indicators that I'm not listening.

Draft threads or word document?

If I'm on mobile, draft thread. If I'm on desktop, I prefer Notepad for both Tumblr and Discord.

Have you made OCs before?

Not for Tumblr, no. Sometimes it's a struggle just to get my mainstream muses any roleplaying traction. Everybody loves playing with a Spider-Man, a Venom, or a Dr. Strange. Characters like Groot and Beta Ray Bill are more niche, and I get that, but it means there's less opportunity for them. With that in mind, I don't have the first clue how to interest people in interacting with an OC of my creation.

Do you get inspiration from music? Images? Other?

Absolutely. All of the above. I'm constantly sending and receiving pictures and GIFs that are inspiring, and I've got more than one shipping soundtrack queued up for just the right tone.

#morgansmornings #answered asks

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silenceofthecookies · 4 years ago

Text

Bleach matchup for @stooch-betch

Match up for either One Piece or Bleach~! I’m Biromantic Demisexual; although I tend to lean more towards guys. Age: 20 General appearance - most striking features, your fashion style, etc. Answer: I’m 5’2.5ft with a petite hourglass build, I have long, thick dark brown hair that reaches a little past my butt. My fashion sense is a mixture between Goth and Punk with a smidge of Grunge; mainly anything black with hints of fishnets, skinny jeans, chains, boots, and corsets. I tend to wear shirts that compliment my bigger than average chest due to trying to bring up my already low-self esteem but in a classy manner. I tend to hold a very hard RBF expression that people tend to believe I’m glaring at them when really I’m lost in thought. I tend to wear mainly winged eyeliner with mascara whenever I plan to go out, but on special occasions, I’ll do a full face of makeup with a cosplay-y flare. I have a couple of tattoos on my arms and scars scattered around my body from being a bit of a tomboy growing up.

MBTI, western zodiac chart, etc. Answer: INTP (The Logician), Scorpio, Year of the Dragon. My MBTI is pretty spot-on for the most part followed by being a Scorpio. My sister is an astrology nut and tells me that I’m a true Scorpio by numerous descriptions.

Personality, how you perceive yourself, and how people around you perceive you.* Answer: How I perceive myself is pretty much kind of all over the place. I’m really stubborn when I want to be and tend to be pretty aloof. I’m naturally apathetic but very understanding of emotions due to having a knick for Psychology. I tend to observe more than be the first to approach someone. Although I have low self-esteem, I try to build up my confidence by performing self-care days whenever I get a chance. It takes me a while to warm up to new people but once I can get a feel of a person, I slowly start to open up, which shocks most people. I’m very animated and pretty chatty once you get me going, I’m pretty sarcastic and tend to make a crap ton of references (while subconsciously expecting people to get what I’m talking about lmao). I think pretty fast on my feet, which sometimes gets me into some trouble due to accidentally hurting peoples’ feelings in which I don’t try to hurt anyone. I have so many walls built up due to past trauma that when people get to really know me, they say I have a soft interior that I try so hard to protect myself. Due to the walls I have built, I’m quick to anger and a bit of a hot-head. So whenever it comes to social interactions, I tend to overthink and silently bottle everything up. When it comes to friends, I have the bad habit of hiding my issues from them and putting them before myself. I’m told I give really good advice and an excellent listener, but I give almost too blunt of responses. I hate sugarcoating things and I’ll tend to say what is on my mind, that too gets me into problems. I am incredibly loyal to the people I’m close to, but I tend to show my love to them in a tough-love type of way. I have extremely dark humor with a dash of memes into the mix; which is one of the reasons why I tend to have a tight-knit friend group.

Hobbies, interests, life goals, etc.* Answer: I absolutely love creative writing! I tend to draw while dealing with writer’s block to make up the creative outlet. I adore doing cosplay makeup, I cosplay but I still have troubles styling wigs, sewing, and keeping on budget. When I’m really stuck on either drawing or writing, I watch anime, eating, and even napping. On the rarest occasions, I’ll play video games such as Pirate Warriors 4, Jump Force, and Sims 4 (Boy oh boy, I lowkey miss doing all-nighters on Sims 4). I'm heavily into Psychology and Criminal Psychology, both are just so fascinating to me that I love to know how the human brain works. I tend to ramble a lot when it comes to Psychology and makes jokes referring to it, although rarely anyone understands what the hell I’m talking about. I have a burning passion for the Paranormal, Cryptids, Urban Legends, and some Conspiracy Theories! I’ll never mess around with an Oujia Board, I’m more than happy to go into a haunted house for the thrills! But because of my love for horror, horror movies don’t really have an effect on me anymore- I tend to laugh at them which makes me a horrible scary movie buddy. I strive to become a Criminal Psychologist or even a therapist that specializes in Personality Disorders. But as a realistic goal, to become a voice actor while being an author on the side, but my vocal range is too low for most female characters but too high for male characters.

Favorites, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, fears.* Answer: I love food~! Mostly Asian and Mexican for the most part due to what I grew up within my family. But my favorite has to be the meats, any kind at all! From cow tongue to prime rib (Unironically Prime Rib is my all-time favorite food as long it’s cooked rare.). I’m very open to trying out new foods as long I don’t have a clue what’s in it or the smell is divine! My dad is the cook of my house, thus while I’m cooking, he tends to take the wheel because it gives him anxiety. But I can cook a mean steak. I love listening to music of any kind; mostly alternative, rock, dubstep, and whatever Ashnikko has going on. I will go crazy if I don’t listen to music throughout my daily life. I like hiking and going on adventurous walks, taking in the scenery while it helps me relax my mind. As much as I am a heavy introvert, I enjoy shopping and a bit of a shopaholic. I also have a fascination with death! Not in a necrophiliac manner, but the whole entire concept of it! I also love animals, I have a big soft spot for them but I really like it when they know I’m the alpha- In other words, when it comes to domestic pets, I love the well-behaved ones. I yearn to have a pet ball python and/or ferret of my own! I hate rude arrogant people who think they’re holier than thou. Especially when it comes to the workplace and they expect you to do everything for them, then continue to talk to you as if you’re below them. I really dislike impoliteness and people with no manners whatsoever. One of my major pet peeves is uncleanliness anywhere, I’m a bit of a germaphobe and cannot stand messy people. With this pandemic going on, it made my germophobia skyrocket even more. I have this irrational fear of being alone, having the thought that everyone around me just tolerates me and doesn’t actually like me flows through my mind a lot. I tend to overthink this a lot to the point it puts me in depressive states, but with some reassurance, I can bounce back. Another thing I fear to death is cockroaches and giant moths; of any kind to be entirely honest. I’m not scared of spiders (I adore them), beetles, ants, etc. but when it comes to these two, I’m either screaming and dipping out or trying to fistfight a moth.

Any additional info you would like to share, fun facts, etc. Answer: I pretty much summed what I had in a nutshell up above. But I got a few more things I can mention for some trivia: I used to be an alto back in my school’s choir, I still sing on occasion but only when I think I’m alone. My friends and sister like to compare me to other characters such as Loki from Marvel, Diva from Blood+, April Ludgate from Parks & Rec, Edward Elric or Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, etc.; They’re not entirely wrong. I cannot dance for the life of me, so anyone who offers to dance with them, they’re going to be dancing with the 90s Barbie doll. I’m an insomniac that gets the midnight munchies, I’ll never in bed but expect to find me rummaging through the kitchen for a snack. There are some things about a relationship that can be a make it or break it for me. I have massive trust issues due to past experiences as well as a fear of commitment. I struggle with anxiety and depression that is overshadowed by my anger, so someone who is patient enough to take the chance to understand me. Reassurance is another big thing I hold because there are going to be days where I start to believe I’m no longer desirable. Loyalty and consent are another two big things with me, I cannot stand toxicity in a relationship. It’s either you’re all in for it or just dip out. I also value someone who can make me laugh and understand I’m not a very affectionate person. I’m kinda like a cat, I like having space. Cheaters, Narcissists, and pathological liars are what keep me away from relationships. I already have enough self-esteem issues and trust issues that my standards in relationships are nearly unrealistic. Little white lies can slide because of surprises or pranks, but when it comes to lying compulsively will really piss me off. Man up to your shit, that is all I’m asking. My Love Language is quality time and words of affirmation, although I don’t mind some cuddles and physical touch. I’m honestly so touch-starved that I internally freak out when someone I like hugs or touches me, but I’m not opposed to it. Honestly, just spending time with that person whether be sitting in the same room doing two completely different things or just watching a shitty YouTube video. I want someone who isn’t afraid to admit I’m their lover, they’re proud to say I’m theirs and to go in public with me. Dates, coffee dates, going out running errands, late-night adventures, going to cons with me, and sharing hobbies! I’m all down for that!! I want a best friend as well as a lover in the relationship.

I match you with...

Sado Yasutora

Chad may be a scary-looking person to those who don’t know him, but his still waters run deep. He is a very loving and passionate person and most of all, he’s perceptive of the people around him. Once he’s taken an interest in you, he’ll patiently wait for you to open up to him, getting to know you by just being around you. He is in no rush since rushing a relationship is rarely a good thing and he wants to do it right or not at all.

Because of his thick skin and his understanding of people, there’s very little you can do that will scare or hurt him. He will take your blunt responses as a sign of honesty and you speaking your mind, two things he greatly values. Even your dark humour won’t faze him.

Chad may be a silent person in general, but that changes when it comes to the people he cares about. He becomes a bit more vocal and always speaks his mind, but it may come across a little weird because he is not too used to expressing his emotions. His does however make his words of love all that more impactful, and he’ll make sure to chase away any doubts you may have that he loves you. His calm and understanding personality is a great help when you’re feeling down.

Chad’s main love language is quality time. As long as you are around, he doesn’t mind what you are doing. No matter how much he likes his friends, there are times when he just wants to spend time with you alone. He greatly enjoys hiking and adventurous talks, much like you, so that’s a common date plan. He’s also a pretty good cook, with his specialty being Mexican food, as he grew up there. Cooking and eating together is his idea of a perfect night in.

When it comes to you, he’ll never be ashamed to admit you’re his. It doesn’t matter if his friends try to tease him about having a girlfriend, he doesn’t see any reason to be embarrassed about it. If anything, he’s a little happy to say it out loud. Being secretive about being a relationship would just make him insecure about it being real or a joke, so he prefers to be open about it.

Chad’s main focus in the relationship it you, what you’re comfortable with and what you want. He is a highly loyal friend, and just as loyal as a boyfriend. Despite him being friends with all different kinds of people, you will never have to worry about him cheating on you. Consent is also a very big thing for him. If you leave it up to him, new steps in the relationship will come very slowly and are spoken about beforehand, just so he’s sure you are comfortable with it.

Chad, much like you, doesn’t get too hung up on physical displays of affection. He enjoys a hug every now and again, but he’s not the clingy type. When you are in the mood for a hug though, Chad gives the absolute best ones.

#bleach matchup #matchmaker cookie #cookie writes #matchup #600 followers event #requested #stooch-betch #scheduled post

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rosaline-kei · 4 years ago

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If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 1/2

Synopsis: Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: i’m chill with writing yandere stuff i guess? But remember guys, don’t be a yandere in real life lmao. I hope this was okay, considering i don’t really watch/play yandere animes/games?? I think?? Except for the classics y’know, like Mirai Nikki haha. That aside, thank you for enjoying Bare! (which y’all can read on my Ao3 lmao). Also, the time period / current time setting of this is messy but shhh.......

Control.

While many cadets would think otherwise, Armin had always struggled with control, sometimes even more than Eren.

Murderous urges never ceased to come creeping up his spine, crawling its way into his heart; strangling it and him entirely—pleading for him to let them go. To let loose whenever anyone goes a little too close to her; whenever anyone dares to invade her personal space, trespassing in his territory.

But Armin knew how to play his cards. Behind his innocent and naïve appearance, deep inside the insanity that dances around his heart like a frisky pup, he was an intelligent and strategic man, who knew how to play this game.

Killing Eren was never, could never be an option. Even if that reckless boy dragged Mikasa down into the turbulence that surrounded him, even if that dense idiot carelessly spat insensitive rubbish in Mikasa’s direction, even if one day he might finally become a sensible man, who was capable of loving her—he can’t kill him. And it was not just because they shared a history together, because they shared a bond.

It was because he knew Eren’s death would send Mikasa in a spiral down into the depths of hell or null. He had the horrid chance of witnessing it once; the impact of Eren’s death on Mikasa.

And it was because he loves Mikasa, he didn’t want her to suffer through that again, so he kept Eren and a few others that appeared to be close (but not that dangerously close) to Mikasa. He didn’t, and never wanted to see her hurt. Besides, he would often think, there are other fathomable and less bloody ways of making her mine, before anyone else.

For now, Armin wasn’t fixated in eliminating the ‘what if’ possibilities where Mikasa winded up with someone else that wasn’t him. For now, he chose to instead focus on his next step in this messed-up game. And for now, in this game, he decided to let them live.

Call him obsessive, but the blonde was lovesick.

Armin didn’t remember how his feelings escalated into this splendid travesty; how this wicked side of him woke. What he did remember was that one day, a day where Eren was absent, a day where it was just the two of them, a day where Armin really had the chance to admire and marvel in the Ackerman’s heavenly presence, did he start to fall.

“Armin…? Are you alright?” Mikasa asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You appeared… troubled earlier, was it because you saw him?” The concern emanating from her tone was enough to throw Armin’s senses off a cliff; and that was barely an exaggeration. Anything, and maybe everything that came out of her mouth was considered a melody to Armin.

Her.

Everything about her was a soothing melody. Her voice, her breath, her heartbeat. Even just her looks. That much was enough to compose a symphony in Armin’s head.

“No… it’s nothing.” Armin assured with a hum as he turned towards her direction, putting on the brightest smile he could manage in the dim-lit room that they were to rest in. For a motel in the underground, this far exceeded Armin’s expectation. Despite the poor lighting along with the peelings of decayed wallpaper hanging loose from the cracked, yellowed walls, Armin had honestly anticipated for the condition of this room to be much worse, with insects possibly crawling about, spiders readying to defend their territory or hunt.

Regardless, as long as Mikasa was comfortable, it was fine.

That aside, the last thing Armin had expected was to see that man who harassed him back then, when he was forced to doll up, dress up as Historia Reiss. Then again, the fact that the two of them were ordered to investigate these parts of the underground for clues regarding a separate issue (one that was fortunately not about Eren being kidnapped, again) was even more unexpected, bewildering even. The crippling world existing on the surface was chaos enough, and Armin would’ve had expected for Levi to keep them around in case that Ripper would show up since they were vital members of his squad. Or at least, not send two cadets on a mission alone, having to navigate the unfamiliar underground the first time by themselves, with a poorly drawn map that could’ve been mistaken with a child’s doodle. Then again, as much as he’d like to question his decision, he didn’t have an opportunity to. Who knows what was going behind the scenes? Armin couldn’t help but ponder.

On the bright side, he was alone with Mikasa.

On the darker side, however…

“If anything, I should be asking you that, Mikasa.” Armin remarked, his smile and other features morphing into something more worried. “You looked… uncomfortable, out there.” It took him every ounce of effort to not let his maliciousness seep through and poison his tone when he thought back to the stares Mikasa received—particularly by one herd of obnoxious barbarians that were bold and foolish enough to cackle out inappropriately snide remarks about her oriental features as they made their way towards the bar.

It made his blood boil.

“…I just don’t understand why people like them exist, that is all. I don’t have time to be concerned with people like them.” She said coldly; a tone and sentiment Armin hoped to never be on the receiving end of. What’d he ever do if Mikasa were to hate him? Or if Mikasa were to find out his… tendencies?

Armin didn’t plan to find out. He was a curious soul, but not that curious.

Slowly, Mikasa shifted herself slightly to the left side of the bed before patting the vacant right side. “Lay down… there’s room. Besides, that couch looks like it could be invested with termites.” She offered calmly, resisting a yawn.

“E-Eh?!” Armin stuttered, face flushed. He had been too busy… scheming, and had forgotten that there was a possibility of them having to share a bed.

It wasn’t the first time but… he wanted to feel her warmth, so badly, so desperately. He wanted to cling onto her, and never, never let her go. He wanted to be close to her, to be overwhelmed by her godly presence again and again. It would just be the two of them. No distractions, nothing.

Unfortunately, Armin had to reject, or rather postpone her offer, as reluctant as he was.

His hand stretched back, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I… would love to, but… I haven’t eaten any dinner yet since we left. I saw a store selling bread nearby, so I’ll head there for a bit.”

“What?” Mikasa’s eyes widened, shocked to hear that he was running on an empty stomach. “I’ll come w—”

“No, it’s fine!” Armin reassured. “You need to… rest. Please.” He didn’t want to trouble her.

Despite his plea for her to rest, she stood up in protest, stomping her way towards him. The fierceness in her eyes clearly made it evident to him that she was against the idea. Cute, he thought. He adored how dedicated and devoted she could be to the people she made room for in her heart, he greatly appreciated her concern, but…

“But it can be dangerous—”

“If I don’t come back within forty-five minutes… then come looking for me.” Armin smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s just a quick stop, and I’ll head back. I can handle my own.”

Mikasa looked at him, stared with him eyes brimming full of genuine worry, concern and conflict. It made Armin’s heart skip and flutter. That look served a reminder to Armin that she cared about him, so much.

After a long tangible silence that stood between them (that Armin didn’t break, couldn’t break. He was too hypnotized by her looks; by her), she finally resigned and with a sigh, “Fine.” She said.

Armin was perfectly capable of handling himself, she knew that. He wasn’t weak. Even if he didn’t excel in physical strength as much as she did, he made it up with his brains; his intelligence that always aid in his and their escape in whatever tricky predicaments.

“But… please,” She muttered, her hands reaching out to grab his free hand, holding them closely, tightly. “Don’t stay out too long… the later it gets, the more ruffians are out there.”

“U-Uhuh!” Armin nodded, savouring her touch, her warmth, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks and a mad rush of blood surging. It was thrilling, and an expression nearly slipped from his control.

Control Armin, control. He reminded himself. Now wasn’t the moment for Mikasa to witness how much she had an effect on him. He was practically wrapped around her finger, in some sense, and he didn’t mind. It was relieving, he was glad.

Perhaps if it wasn’t just the two of them, he would have more control about his expressions that had a possibility of exposing what he felt for her. He loved her, but at the same time, what he felt for her was more than that.

There was no going back, now.

Once Mikasa had let go, he left, knowing that there was no time to waste.

As he left, he felt a wave of ecstasy swinging within him as he relished the lingering warmth that Mikasa’s hand had imprinted on his. Ahhhh! The warmth is all the same… He thought, humming to himself as he skipped towards his destination. Her touch is all the same… ah… sometimes I just want it all to myself.

Upon arriving at his destination, his humming stopped, and what took over was a determined look mixed with some animosity. Taking a deep breath as he re-calculated his plans, he entered the bar with a thirst for vengeance.

#snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #arumika #Mikasa Ackerman #armin arlert #armin x mikasa #mikasa x armin #mikasa #armin #my fanfiction #my fanfic #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

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Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned?

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did.

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies).

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more.

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee.

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee.

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious!

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period.

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid.

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts.

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry.

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 4 years ago

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Other Writing Prompts

This is just a compiled list of prompts I’ve collected from Pinterest and other random places, but don’t particularly fit anywhere or just would only fit into the Marvel or Star Wars fandoms. I have other prompt lists that get more specific or more vague as well. If you want to use one in a request to me, just use the following ‘Character Name and Prompt No. 35 from the Other Prompt list’ for example + some details if you’d like.

I didn’t organize this list by mood since it’s about 200 prompts.

Key:

‘*’ Denotes something that could be used as dialogue.

[*] Denotes a swear word that I removed.

One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying, "you're going to help me settle a bet."

"But what is power?" "Loyalty"

The girl wrote in the journal as fluidly as fish swam in the sea, or birds rode the wind. It was beautiful, how gracefully she crafted her spells.

"You do know that when you wipe my memories, it doesn't actually work, right? One of the perks of being me." The villain froze at the hero's words. They'd just attempted their grand entrance four times in a row, trying to anticipate the hero's response. Blanking their brain when they didn't quite get it perfect. First impressions were important. PR won battles as much as soldiers did. "Don't worry," the hero grinned, looking the villain up and down slowly. "You're doing great. Very impressive." Now they definitely had to die.

The villain prowled closer, gaze intent. "Mm. The last time someone looked at me like that, we didn't get out of bed all weekend. Good times." "Cute bravado, it won't save you." "You're blushing."

"You could be so brilliant if you only turned your mind to creating things instead of destroying them." The hero murmured. They paused to tighten the villain's restraints, before glancing up to catch their eyes. "I've never seen anything like you. You're stunning." It was so earnest that, for once, the villain didn't quite know what to say. The hero wet their lips, practically on their knees. "Just let me help you, please. You'd be a terrible waste to the world rotting."

"Oh, I could just take you apart. See how long that cold, untouchable reputation of yours lasts then. You're trying so hard to pretend you're not even human, but look at that..." The hero pressed a hand above the villain's heart. They both felt it pounding far too clearly. This was not supposed to happen. There was a reason nobody was supposed to get close.

"If you want me," the hero panted, "come and get me." The villain paused, languidly sweeping a hand up and under their chin. "Want you in which way, Darling? Don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed."

You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain; one too strong for them to beat.

Stab options: Slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull out the weapon impaling them while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by a friend/lover.

Hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist that they're fine,

even though they are clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet. And as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they're badly hurt and have been for awhile.

Character A tilting Character B's chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. Character A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by Character B's mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, Character B's heart skips a nervous beat as Character A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained. "Who did this to you?"

"I will deny you death until you beg me for it."

"Hold on you died." "Yeah, well it didn't stick."

As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday. Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has till then.

The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're shivering, bleeding and scared. There's also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they are close to passing out they mumble, "...didn't know where else to go..." Then collapse into the villain's arms.

"I loved the woman you were before. Not this monster."

"I dare you to touch her again."

"By the Gods! You love her, don't you?"

"Come here." "Why?" "Just come here." "No, you're gonna hit me."

"Shh, shh." The villain wiped the tears from the hero's face and pressed a kiss to their forehead. "Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

"Hey, hey, hey. Baby, what's wrong?" The hero shuddered from the dram--startlingly vivid. Of fighting and faces, and the the icy clench of betrayal in their chest already fading into unconsciousness. And yet, they couldn't stop crying. Shoulders shaking, uncontrollable sobbing. The villain gathered them close, tucking the hero's head against their chest and making safe, soothing sounds. "Bad dream, huh? It's alright, nothing will touch you while I have you."

"Nobody touches you other than me, do you understand?" The hero looked at the other villain, dead on the floor. Dead before they even touched them. And they hated themselves for the flicker of gratitude, of feeling protected, when everything was all wrong and there was nothing safe in this game at all. Their villain was not kind. Only possessive. "Can we go home?" The villain liked it when they called it home.

They hadn't wanted this. Of course, they'd wanted the hero to stop fighting them. Wanted them broken, despondent, but... The person staring blankly at the walls, terrified of their own power, wasn't what they wanted. "Darling, you're beautiful. You don't need to be scared with me, I promise you that. Look--try and attack me and I promise I can stop you. You're safe with me. You couldn't hurt me if you tried. I'm just like you."

"You killed someone. Do you really think they're ever going to want you back?" The hero looked up at the villain, desperate, shattered. "I'll always want you, even if they don't." The villain said. "I understand what it's like. It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"You're not as evil as people think you are." "No, I'm much worse."

"I was a King!" He bellowed, spitting at the girl's feet. She smiled at him, her eyes sad and yet full of mischief. "And I was a god."

He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give. "Don't bother," a voice said." He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and wrists. "I already tried."

"Don't ever try to get inside my head," he snarled, slamming me against the wall. For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists. Finally, his eyes softened. "It's too dark for you."

"You think you have a choice, and that's sweet and all, but it's time you take up the knife and do what you were made to do."

"You-you are--" "Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented--" "Dangerous."

"Sorry, I have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap. I'll call you back when I've convinced him that a cold doesn't mean he's dying."

The villain pressed their lips to the hero's, silencing their sobbing pleas. "Shh." The villain murmured, angling their knife at the hero's throat. "It's better this way."

He was leaning against the wall, trying to support his own body weight, and his gasps of pain were like music to her ears.

"You just killed five men, what do you have to say for yourself?" "Oops?"

For a second, I thought she could actually see me.

Every person on the planet is born with a tattoo on each arm. One matches your soulmate, and one matches your worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which. You do, because they are both the same.

In a superhero-supervillain story, you're the hero's love interest, and as such, in classic use-their-loved-ones-against-them fashion, the villain keeps kidnapping you as leverage against the hero. However, an unfortunate complication has arisen; having spent so much time with the villain, you begin to realize you're falling in love with them.

You never kill the spiders in your home. You just whisper; "Today you, tomorrow me." When you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back.

"I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing!" "Is that so?" His tone was amused, which irritated me more. "Yep. Nothing." He took one towards me with a smirk on his face. I swallowed, refusing to back up. He laughed at me discomfort. "Relax, Princess. I am not going to jump on you." That relieved me somewhat, until he added, "not until you ask me to anyways."

The hero shows up at the villain's house, hurt, broken and defeated. But it wasn't the villain and they are extremely angry that someone hurt their hero.

The phone rings. The voice on the other end says "we need you again." Then hangs up.

"What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?" "Those are children. That's a school."

Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent, but more effective fashion.

"You have to go, you have to run away!" "Run from who?" "From me."

"Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!"

Two people running away from a blind, arranged marriage, in which one is supposed to marry the other, meet on the road by coincidence and fall in love with each other.

*Not every prince is charming

When people are born, they are assigned a soulmate. They have an original song in their head that only them and their soulmate know. A person just broke into your house and you're pretty sure they are here to kill you. They're humming your song under their breath.

"What? Do you think I enjoy this? This infatuation of mine? This horrible need to know you are okay?" To realize you can hurt me in a way no one for the past thousand years has been able to?" "Well, stop it then! If caring about me is such a nuisance to you, stop it! It doesn't do much for either one of us." "I CAN'T. That's what kills me. The fact that you can even ask that of me shows how ignorant you are about the power you have over me."

"I want to take a shower, so you should probably join me. It'll save water."

"It's midnight! Where the hell were you?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I might have slept with your [clothing article] when you were gone."

"No one has to know about us, I know this could ruin you."

"Just pretend to be my date."

"You should sleep." "I'm not human, therefore, I do not require sleep."

"You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? NO. The answer is NO."

"You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead."

"Wait, something doesn't feel right."

"Did you hear that?"

"Stay here and don't move. I'll be right back."

"You told me you were okay! You promised!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"How long have you been covering this?"

"You've been trying to deal with this yourself?"

"We could have prevented this!"

"If you didn't want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right!"

"You didn't think it was that bad? Are you looking at it?"

"You are not fine!"

"You look really cute in that sweater."

"No, like... It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

"You know I hear you talking, but I still don't have my coffee."

"Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It's not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying tha someone was made for you. It's... It's the love. It's too strong, and you can't fight it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried... But I'm always going to love you. And I need you to know that."

"You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?" "Because it's not just one life... It's yours."

"This might sound selfish, but I don't care about the world. I only care about you."

"I still believe there is a good person in you."

"It was necessary."

"Did you think I really cared about you?"

"This was my plan all along."

"There was no other way."

"How cute. Struggle all you want, you won't be leaving this place."

"This is what you get from trusting me."

"It's too late to go back."

"I'm sorry this had to go down like this."

"That's right, I lied."

"It's all for a good cause."

"You were so stupid. You should have known."

"Just so you know... I don't regret anything."

"Shame. I kind of liked you."

"This is my responsibility."

"You will no longer love me if you see who I truly am."

"I'm a monster." "No, you're not."

"You'd better put that knife down."

"But I did all of this for you?" "I didn't want you to kill anyone."

Person A wins a big stuffed animal for Person B at an amusement park and offers to carry it for them. Person B says they'll carry it themselves and carries it around smugly.

While on a date, Person A very shyly touches Person B's hand and Person B reassuringly (and tightly) holds Person A's hand.

You press your ear against the wall, just in time to hear the scream.

AU where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo. Every time you fall in love, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. (i.e a new tattoo appearing on a celebrity's body in new photos and a very lucky fan (who'd just met them), realizing that it's their tattoo.)

He/She kissed his/her brow as the world around them burned. "See you in the next life, my love." He/She whispered.

"Is everything supposed to go dark?"

"You'd better not die on me."

"They just got a lucky shot."

"Next time, don't call me over only to find you in a pool of your own blood!"

"You need to keep pressure on it."

When a character doesn't realize they've been shot or whatever and their hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they're just staring at it like WTF is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them.

A character that knows they've been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

Or the character who doesn't realize they've been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it's wet and oh no.

"Pull the trigger. PULL IT!" He screamed as he took the gun being held in his enemy's hand and pressed it against his own stomach. "I can't!" His enemy screamed. "I can't kill you!"

"You were more fun when we were kids," the villain sighed. "You worshiped me then. It was so cute." "When we were kids, you weren't such a colossal prick." The villain laughed and traced the weapon along their cheek. "Now, you know that's not true. You changed. Not me." The laugh dropped, to something more contemplative, softer, and yet no kinder. "Why did you have to?"

"Isn't that what people do?" The villain asked softly. "Learn to love each other? Could you not learn to love me? You-you who seem to have such a heart to love the world and everything in it?" The hero turned their gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger tugging at them in equal measure. "I would not be unkind to you," the villain persisted. Cupping the hero's face, thumbs stroking their jaw. "I would never." "Kidnapping people is unkind." The villain's grip tightened. "Making people fall in love with you and refusing to love them back is unkind." Oh, hell no. The hero knocked their hands away, expression ablaze with rage that they even dared say that. Their heart slammed, anger overtaking pity, teeth bared in a snarl. "I will never love you. Never."

"This isn't the way to make people love you!" "Love?" The villain laughed at that, fondly even, as they looked down at the hero kneeling before them, heat in their eyes. "My sweet thing, this isn't about love."

"All that time locked away, and not a note from you. No visits, no letters, nothing." The villain trailed their fingers along the hero's sides, relishing the sight of them all chained up for them. "You're lucky I'm nicer and won't just leave you here to rot, inmate." The hero snarled at them, making an indignant noise. "Aggressive behavior, now that would be a shot."

"I enjoyed your visits." The villain said, "but it's just not the same with a thick glass wall between us. I know you felt the same way." They didn't look at the hero, making cooing sounds at the hero's child in their lap. The hero's mind raced, desperately trying to think of some way to fix this. To calculate how long it would be before back up came. The very sight of the villain holding onto their baby left them sick with dread, even more so as the child gurgled and laughed. "You never told me about this little one, no they didn't, no they didn't." They smothered a kiss to the child's forehead. "They look like me."

"Shh, shh." the antagonist settled themselves comfortably on the protagonist's lap, looping their arms around them. One hand cupped the back of their head and stroked soothing fingers through the protagonist's hair, guiding their head to rest on the antagonist's shoulder. "It's alright, calm down..." The protagonist's wrists strained against the chains binding their limbs to the chair, heart feeling like it might jack-knife out of their chest, nerve-endings jangling. "Just match your breathing with mine." The antagonist continued, concerned. "We both know I'm going to hurt you regardless so there's really no point in having a panic attack about it. Come on, deep breaths. No

need to cry now, that's good. You can do it." They continued to make soothing sounds, crowning the protagonist's head with kisses.

"I really thought you could save me." The hero cradled the villain close, for now, too many things reeling through their head. "Yeah, so did I."

"You said if I did this, that we'd be done." The antagonist smiled, brushing the protagonist's hair back from their forehead. "You must have known that would never happen. Look at what a great team we make--we're unstoppable!" Their smile softened and the protagonist hated that it still made their stomach flip. "You're incredible!" "Incredibly done." "If I let you go, you'll die. The world can't maintain you the way I can."

"You were everything to me." And now, this. Betrayal and longing, relief at life and despair at monstrosity, sunk like a fish hook in their chest. Painful, inescapable. "How could you?" The antagonist's brow furrowed. They reached out a hand, gently catching the protagonist's tears on their fingertips. "You say that as if we've met before." The protagonist's heart dropped out. "What? You don't remember me?" The antagonist continued to stare at the tears for a moment before their hand clenched to a fist. They nodded to their guards. The protagonist struggled as the security seized hold of them again, dragging them up and backwards. Their desperation pitched. They grew sure. "You don't remember, do you? What's the last thing you remember?" "Oh, and gag them," the antagonist said, looking away. "They're boring me." "[NAME]--" the guards cut them off. The antagonist didn't look at them once as they were hauled out of the room.

They tried again, and again, and again. Each time, they were deftly deflected, tossed aside, pinned, knocked back as if their attacks and all their training was nothing. The villain was good. They tried for over an hour, ears ringing, nose bleeding, ribs cracked, fingers broken, until they were too exhausted to put any strength into a punch and the last lunge ended up more with them sobbing and shaking in frustration against the villain's chest. The villain caught their wrists firmly and twisted them into a more secure hold. They manhandled the protagonist, stumbling in front of the mirror so they could get a good look at just how pitifully outmatched they looked. "This is what you wanted? I'm sure your parents would be delighted to see this."

"Teach me." "What?" The villain started. "Teach me how to fight like you." It was the most incredible thing they'd ever seen. "...You want me to teach you how to kill me?" The villain let go and let them crumple to the floor. "[*]. I need a drink to deal with you."

"I said that's enough now." The villain caught hold of the hero's wrists as they tried to keep fighting, tossing their weapon aside before drawing them close. Arms wrapping around them in an embrace that might have been comforting if it didn't have the unyielding restraint of shackles. "There we go, easy now." You've been hurt enough for one day." Thrashing against the hold did nothing but exhaust the hero and eventually they sagged. They sank together to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rocking slightly. 'You hurt me,' they wanted to scream. 'This is your fault.' "Shh," the villain murmured--warned, they didn't even know anymore. "It's enough. You've done more than enough, you'e fought so bravely, but just listen to me. There's no shame in surrendering and living another day, right?"

The villain was curled up in their bed. Fast asleep, in their bed. No broken windows, no broken locks--just there. A bolt of rage shot through the hero before they got a better look at them and... Oh wow. They let them sleep, Tucked over another blanket and went into the kitchen and made food, something warm to drink and fished out some painkillers. Their eyes flickered over when the villain made a clammy appearance. "Sit down," they ordered. "You're not going anywhere until I've taken a look at your wounds." The villain sat, huddled up in one of the hero's old hoodies. "You're not interrogating me. Or angry." "Oh, I'm furious. But shockingly enough for once not at you. If I ask you what happened, you're going to run aren't you?" The villain didn't deny it. This was different, somehow.

"I loved you at your darkest."

The fighter frowned when I stepped into the ring, his stance slackening a little as he took in the sight of me. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they grew rowdy, waiting for the fight to start. But he said, in a low growl of a voice, "I don't fight girls." My lip curled as I replied, "too bad, because I fight boys." And knocked his legs out from under him.

"You took a bullet for me." The villain stared at them, numbly almost, as the protagonist gasped for breath that didn't want to come down. "That was stupid of you." They wished they had some excuse, some clever plan, but it had simply been instinct. They wished they had some witty comment, but it hurt too much to think. The villain stepped closer, standing over them. Watching them pant, propped weakly on one elbow, the other hand clamped to their side. "I wish you hadn't done that," the villain said. "So do I, [*]." They squeezed their eyes shut. They snapped open at the touch of hands, and the antagonist's face was right there. Close. "Are you scared? Do you want me to make it quick for you?" [*]. Really?

"You can't just keep me!" "You'd prefer I fight you and your friends?" The villain returned. "I wouldn't. And you are an excellent piece of peace-keeping leverage. A noble cause. I would have imagined you'd be all aboard.

"Don't do this," the antagonist entreated, anguished, wary. "You don't have to do this." The protagonist stared back, heart drumming in their ears, a dozen longings swelling beneath their tongue. "I don't want to. You're all I ever wanted." It hurt to, finally, admit it aloud and the antagonist's breath hitched. "But this is--this is wrong. Can you really not see that?" "Loving you can never be wrong." Their chest ached. "The things you do for love can."

"Not what you expected?" The villain smiled, frosty. "I had plans other than you too. I suppose we'll both have to make do." The hero drew back, wide-eyed, because no. This was not what they'd expected at all. A little awkwardness, a little chill, not a dead body on the bedroom floor. "What are you?"

"Don't worry." The villain caressed their partner's cheek, down the oh-so-vulnerable line of the hero's throat. "I won't hurt you. Suspicion always turns to the spouse first in these things." "I'll tell." "And then where would that leave you? Like it or not love. I'm all that you have in the world now. We need to look after each other."

When someone's heart breaks, so does a piece of our world; this creatures fissures,

valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell the story behind the Grand Canyon.

"You're such a complete disaster." Groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

"Fix it." "I can't." The protagonist dropped to their knees, a sick feeling curdling in the pit of their belly. "Please--see, I'm begging and everything. Fix it." They swallowed hard. "Please." Their voice cracked. "I can't." The antagonist said. They tugged one hand through their hair, jerking the other in a gesture for the protagonist to get up. "I'm not saying it to spite you, I literally can't. This is beyond my power. I'm sorry." The protagonist stared at them in numb disbelief.

"Hand over the girl." "Not going to happen."

"Does it hurt?" The hero asked carefully, looking at the huge scar that trailed from the other person's shoulder, down their chest to their stomach. The scar was pale in colour and bumpy; raised above the skin ever-so-slightly. The other person looked away, blinking fast. "It did. Years ago, when I first received it." "I can't believe someone could do this to you," the hero whispered. That got the other's attention, their head snapping towards the hero. "You did this. YOU did this to me and you don't even remember." They hissed.

"You need to eat something." The hero scowled, wrapping both arms around their grumbling stomach. "You need to mind your own business." The villain stepped forward slowly, arms held out in front of them, palms up. "You fainted on me last week, and I can hear how hungry you are. If you won't take my money, at least let me buy you some food. You help everyone, let someone help you for once. Don't let your pride stop you from taking the help you need to continue saving lives." The villain smiled crookedly. "To continue stopping me."

"Your city is in ruins. You are--" The villain stopped, gloves half off, and raised an eyebrow. "You're wrapped in my cape." Swaddled in the thick fabric, only the hero's face was visible, their expression trapped between a scowl and a pout. "It's cold down here, and you left it in reach. If you weren't too tight to heat your lair while keeping me prisoner down here, I wouldn't have had to resort to thievery." "You look adorable," the villain said, forcing a sneer into their voice. Because they did. They looked adorable and warm and perfect.

Character B bleeding heavily while Character A tries to staunch the blood, but Character B is more concerned about the fact that stoic Character A is sobbing and panicking.

When help is a few hours away and Character B has to stay awake, Character A rambles loudly about random stuff, trying not to break down and cry and to keep them awake.

"Show me your scars," he said. "But... Why?" She asked quizzically. "I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn't there," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You go ahead, I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

"Don't talk to me. It's 6 AM and I haven't had coffee yet, so anything I do or say cannot

be held against me."

"Dude, that jacket is mine, give it back."

"YOU USED MY TOWEL?!"

"Where is he?" "My lady...." "Answer me."

"Wait, when did I take off my clothes?"

"I"m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

"I'm not here, actually, this is a projection from.... [planet].... I moved there recently."

"You have no idea how to make toast?!"

"I haven't showered in four days."

"You're more zombie than human."

"Fix her." "No." "Because you can't or you don't want to?" "Because she'll break again. And you'll be back here, on my doorstep, begging me once more to fix something that wasn't meant to be fixed." "So you don't want to?" The healer's eyes were cold. "No."

"You made me love you." The hero said. They stared out of the window, quietly, watching the rain spit down across the streets. The villain froze in the doorway, studying them, the cup of love-potion spiked tea still cradled in their hand. "I've known for weeks," the hero continued, idly almost. They didn't glance over. "It's obvious. Too sweet in the tea." "You're still drinking it." "I wanted to see what you would do. Waited." The villain swallowed at that. They hadn't done anything--aside from give the tea. Perhaps that was the most damning thing of all.

"She's crying, what do I do?" "Go comfort her." "How do I do that?" "Start with hugs." "With what?"

"I always knew I'd take a bullet for you," I say as pain ebbs through my chest. He/She crouches beside me, clutching at my shirt. Sobs echo from him/her as my lids grow heavy from the weight. "And I always knew you wouldn't take one for me." I whisper and shut my eyes.

First she realized she was pregnant, then she realized her baby would only be half human.

An all female crew is picked for the first [planet] mission. They all come back pregnant.

Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the hero finds them and takes them back with them, taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesn't say anything because the hero is being so nice to them and nobody has been that nice to them in so long and they don't want it to end and they're maybe getting fond of the hero, but don't tell anyone. But eventually something happens and the hero is in trouble and they're trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they're an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themselves and they've grown to like them and don't want them to get hurt, but the villain just pushes past them towards whatever is trying to hurt the hero and just goes guns blazing and destroys them.

"I wish I had a camera."

The shackles grazed her wrists as she changed positions in an attempt to get comfortable.

You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise.

You are fighting in a war when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off of you.

The rain came down in heavy sheets. He pulled his soaked [type of hat] down to protect his eyes and moved forward. Where was she? Would he find her in time? A dark shape against the bridge railway caught his eye when the lightning flashed. He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He couldn't tell for the rain if she was crying or not, droplets streamed down her face. Her mouth opened to let out a cry, but when she saw it was him, she pleaded with her eyes. He only nodded and put his arm around her. He'd protect her.

My head pounded as the toxin flooded my veins, but when I looked at her I could tell what it was doing to her was much worse.

A woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She's unaware that she's actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who's fallen for her and is certain that this time he'll get it right.

"What have you been doing? Actually, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

"You're hurt!" He pulled the arrow out of his chest. "Oh, that's nothing." She stared at him. She'd thought she'd seen the arrow pierce his heart. How was he even alive? He laughed. "Don't worry, dear. It takes more than one little arrow to kill me." She was pretty sure she'd seen his eyes glimmer for a second.

"It's 2 AM. I think that's enough of that."

"Watch, this is the best part!"

"Why are you doing this?!" The villain grinned, their malice as tangible as the ground beneath the hero's feet. "Because you fell in love. And you needed to learn that love won't save you when there's a gun to your head."

It's not like she meant to trip and spill coffee all over him. It was just the way of her people.

The villain gently lifted the hero's chin with a fingertip. "Don't you see? We're the same, you and I." The hero narrowed their eyes and smacked the villain's hand away. "You and I will never be the same. I'll make sure of it." The villain grabbed the hero's wrists in an iron grip before they even knew it was moving. "Darling," the villain chuckled, "you don't have a choice."

The villain snarled, "you will find the moment you hurt them is the moment I tear out your heart and shatter your bones. If you dare destroy them as you have threatened, then they'll find nothing left of you."

"You're not allowed to die, dammit!" The villain's voice quivered, threatening to break as they shook the hero's limp shoulders. "I promised myself you wouldn't die here. I promised you I'd get us both out of this. Dammit, I promised!"

The villain's breaths were shallow and panicked as they laid the hero on the ground, blood staining both their hands. "Damn it," the villain muttered as they ripped a piece off their shirt and pressed it flush with the hero's ribcage. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Didn't want you to think I was weak," the hero mumbled, their face an already alarming shade of white. The villain grimaced, tears blurring their vision. "Well, I'm afraid you're about to witness first hand just how weak I am."

"The world is ruthless, unforgiving. I came to realize that long ago when my wife was

stolen from me." She lifted her hood to reveal her face. "She wasn't stolen. She left."

The villain shook their head. "What a pity..." "Let me go!" Begged the protagonist again. "Please," she sobbed. "Please. "You could have been Queen. It's a pity you chose this path instead." The villain lifted their dagger.

"I"m the daughter of a King who forgot my name."

"Go to him. He waits for you."

*He became King because he wanted to marry you.

One night, a dark King appeared and offered me his hand, his heart, and his Kingdom.

Arranged marriage AU where I am the Prince/Princess who sneaked out to a tavern and while I was there I got into a fist fight with another patron. Fast forward to the next day where I am meeting the person who has been engaged to me since birth and oh wow your eye looks horrible, what did I do.

Your father is forcing you to marry someone you've never met. The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Halfway down, you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over.

"If a god falls in love with you, you can never really die."

Person A and Person B are in the kitchen. Person A is short, while Person B is slightly taller. Person A: *Struggles to retrieve items from top shelf* Person B: "Do you need me to get it for you?" Person A: *Gasps* "How dare you insult the vertically challenged!" Person B: *Laughs* "Okay then..." Person A: (Moments later) *Defeated sigh* "Help meee....."

Person A: *Completely serious* "I have to get something off my chest." Person B: *Fingers crossed* "I hope it's your shirt, please."

Person A noticeably disheveled as they enter the room. "Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff." Person B, also disheveled and grinning smugly enters the room after. "I'm stuff."

The villain smiled, watching the anguish on the hero's face as their so-called friends handed them over. "I guess," the villain sighed. "You're nobody's first priority." They reached out, pulling the hero closer by their restraints. "Except mine, of course. Don't worry. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you." The hero shivered, turning their head away.

"I'm all yours," the hero held up their hands. "Just leave them out of it. This is just you and me, right?"

The villain panted for breath, hands bloody--a little dazed and starting to shake. "They were going to hurt you. I-I panicked. I know it's bad that I--" "Shh." The hero held out an arm and the villain crumpled against them. "It's alright. You were only trying to protect me, weren't you?" The villain nodded. "Then I forgive you, it's okay. But you know there are going to be people who don't see it my way, who wouldn't understand like I do." "But you can make that go away. You can do anything." The villain said. It took everything the villain had not to shiver with delight.

"There," the villain carded their fingers through the hero's hair. "Isn't it better to feel clean?" No more blood or grime or gore on battered skin. Instead, fluffy towels, steaming water, soothing scents and oils which soothed all aches and pains. "It would

feel even better if you weren't in the room. Bit creepy, that." "You know you can't be trusted not to abuse my hospitality."

"Stop it." The command, the quiet authority cut straight through to the villain's brain. "You're overthinking," their sidekick said. "You know what you get like when you start overthinking. Come here." The villain moved over thoughtlessly. Their sidekick guided them gently down onto their knees, taking the villain's head in their hands. Their fingers massaged soothing circles and the villain's eyes fluttered closed. "That's right," their sidekick murmured. Good. Just focus on me. Take some deep breaths."

"You are so terrified that people will never love you, that they'll leave you," the protagonist murmured. "That you would never give them the chance to do either." The antagonist stilled in the doorway, just for a beat. The protagonist looked at them, heart seized in their mouth. "That's not love, you know. Love necessitates choice." "Just as well then," the antagonist replied. "That I'm not looking to give someone the chance to love me. Sleep tight." The door slammed shut behind them.

"I miss you." "You miss an illusion." But the villain paused all the same, hand rising as if about to touch. Faltering. Their hand dropped. They steeled themselves. "Take them away." Cold.

*And mighty we became.

"That has got to be the lamest pick up line in existence." "Don't worry that's just Plan A." "So what's Plan B?" "To take you hostage."

"I'm fine," the antagonist said. "Okay." "I'm fine." They'd just said that, and the protagonist was starting to look concerned. "Just fine. Everything's going to be fine." Oh wow, they couldn't stop saying it, couldn't stop gabbling it, couldn't breathe over it, choking on that word. Fine, fine, fine, always perfectly fine.

The villains lungs strained for air as the hero slammed them up against the wall, face inches away. Fear licked up their spine. "You're sorry?" The hero spat. "Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what you're going to be for what you've done. You don't get to cry over your guilt. You're not the one who got hurt."

In the heat of the moment, whether this is a fight, chase, or the characters are under gunfire; they escape and get to cover. However all is not well when Character A turns to see Character B leaning heavily against a wall, clutching at their side. Character B slowly looks up and shows a blood covered hand before saying, "so. Slight problem," before collapsing onto the floor.

"I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

Person B dancing around their home, headphones in, eyes closed, singing as loudly as they please to their favourite song while Person A stands in the doorway watching their oblivious partner with a loving smile on their face.

Person A: "How can someone say Person B is evil? They're the most precious soft little soul." Person B: *Wiping blood off their face* "YEAH, I'M ADORABLE!"

Person A walked into the house, threw their bag on a chair, and laid down on the carpet with an air of defeat. Person B walked in a few hours later, saw Person A on the ground and set to work. They picked up a few blankets and pillows. Then Person B walked

over to Person A, laid everything out, then proceeded to lay down with Person A. Person A slowly curled up to Person B and fell into a restful sleep. Five hours later, they're still there. Just soaking in each other's presence.

Person A was sitting up in bed, headphones on and staring intensely at their Ipad screen, which flickered brightly in the dim room. Person B rolled over and slowly sat up, glancing at the clock and seeing it was well past 2 AM. Person B leaned up against Person A, with their eyes still closed and asked why Person A was still up. Person A popped out an earbud and quickly *states reason* and then turned their attention back to the screen. Person B yawned loudly, grabbed the device and tossed it off the bed. Right before Person A could protest, Person B curled an arm around them and forced Person A to lay down. Person A fell asleep within minutes, tucked securely in Person B's arms.

Imagine your OTP getting ready for bed and Person A is sitting on the bed. Person B tries to sneak up on them with a hug or a kiss, but Person A has quick reflexes and thinks they're being attacked. So they accidentally hit Person B in the face and they fall back onto the bed. Person A quickly realizes who it was then, and keeps saying sorry really fast and hugs them and kisses where it hurts.

Imagine Person A walking into the kitchen, only to find Person B in tears. Person A immediately rushes over to Person B's side, fretting over them, consoling and asking what happened. Surprised, Person B explains they were simply cutting onions.

Person A is baking cookies and has to split their attention between the timer and fighting off Person B, who keeps trying to steal cookie dough from the bowl.

Imagine your OTP making out on a couch, but then one of them accidentally rolls off and the other one is either frantically asking if they're okay, or laughing their head off.

Imagine your OTP ice skating and one of them falls so the other tries to help them up, but they lose their balance and fall on top of the other.

What if he held you tightly in his arms as you lay on his chest, drifting into sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat. Feeling the slight vibration of his lungs as he hummed softly. His hands brushing lightly in your hair as his lips pressed against the top of your head, but stayed there for awhile. Then he let out a faint sigh, taking his lips away, seeming to be deep in thought.

You shift around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. No success. You hear your boyfriend stretching. "Can't sleep, my love?" He asks, letting out a sleepy sigh. "Come here," he whispers. You move over to him and he snakes an arm around your waist and wraps his leg around yours as you rest your head on his bare chest.

As you lay in bed alone, struggling with reaching sleep, you toss and turn before huffing out in annoyance at still being awake. A small fraction of light creeps into your room until the door closes and the edge of your bed dips down underneath his weight. He carefully climbs under the covers, reaching an arm out for you, pulling you closer to his body, your back to his front. "You can sleep now, love. I'm home. I love you." He gently whispers in your ear, lightly kissing your cheek and then laying his head on the pillow next to you, leading you to fall into a dream-filled sleep of your boy being back home.

#writing #writing prompts #writing prompt list #prompts #other writing prompts #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #star wars

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citialiin · 5 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @forseenclade thank you ! man i am so bad at doing memes. tagging: @blossomingbeelzebug @zhrets @lupichorous @dansiere yayayayayayayaya

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated [ z/iggy stardust is DEFINITELY not my original character, but 683 is, and every single part of how i rp ziggy from his backstory to his personality was made up by me. that being said, ziggy is still a character that exists in media. ]

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [ im pretty sure ziggy is tied with the thin white duke as one of b*wie’s most famous fictional personas? ]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES ? / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK. [ maybe a little overrated ]

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ celebrity rock god of limitless talent vs inevitable overrated washup. most celebrities are polarizing anyways ]

How strictly do you follow canon? — there isnt much canon to go off of i think? the album barely even states if ziggy is an alien and b*wie himself got really wishy washy about it (sometimes saying z is a human who was contacted by aliens, he was an alien himself, etc). i dont think we know anything about him besides what he looks like (red hair / weird eyes / pale / “well hung” lmao) and he has a band called the spiders from mars, he plays the guitar left handed, he’s bisexual + androgynous, and he’s charming and popular with the teens but inevitably is a victim of his own ego. and he dies. that too. but that’s literally it! we know Nothing else about him. so i filled in all the gaps because my brain has worms. theres a little bit of the story that verges on fantasy (that he’s some sort of messiah messenger for “the infinites,” whatever the fuck THAT means, david) so i nix that because i prefer hard scifi. and theres one BIG part that i just ... deleted out of his canon, in that the world is ending in 5 years in his timeline, and he’s like ... aware of this ? but that’s dumb and confusing. i legit dont care anymore. my OC now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — im so embarrassed i know i could be genuine and actually try but i have brain blockajjolajlakala33lak33klak333ak3jka3akjj323j3 i guess it’s like ... ziggy is truly the ultimate expression OF humanity because he reveals everything both wrong and right about the human condition, he literally embodies the best of humanity and the worst at the same time, he’s a really interesting critique on the idea of genuineness/earnestness vs commercalism in art, the perils of fame, and also how humans are so inherently corrupting? a lot of thematic stuff i like exploring is like what is innate to humans vs what is learned behavior, what are things that humans do naturally that ziggy mimics out of his desire to be like us? i think he has a really good story arc -- he went from being a literal nameless CLONE in a society full of pragmatic forward thinking science-oriented people to a sell out rockstar celebrity in a society of people that value individualism and self expression and art, but in the process completely lost his mind and himself and gave into the worst that humanity has to offer like rampant selfishness, drug abuse, self destructive tendencies, etc. characters changing is always interesting and ziggy truly changes for the worse -- but he is never just black and white, he was never good and then suddenly evil, he just was always the same person putting on different facades and trying to be himself by constructing an identity that maybe was who he wanted to be versus who he actually is. i dont know what im talking about. hes just an alien trying to be too hard to be human in all the wrong ways. i just like how “gray” ziggy is. he isnt good or bad, he can be very nice and he can be very mean, he’s overtly showboating confident but at the same time deeply afflicted with self-consciousness (why tf else would anyone be So obsessed with how they present themselves?). hes an icon of individualism but also commercialism. he’s freakishly alien but is almost more human than humans themselves. he struggles as lot in his head -- which makes for interesting writing, i guess !! Im so emabrrased im not going to go back and read what i wrote so if i typoed dont look at me

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — i think ziggy comes across as really mean and nothing else. his horrible bitchy rudeness comes across as hee hee hoo hoo sassy isnt he a rascal when it’s supposed to be more like ... he’s so far gone into the celebrity delusion he’s conflated aggressive rudeness with charmingness because no one told him otherwise and everyone worships him to the point where he’s just given into the delusion that he can do no wrong. i think theres the general simplification problem that happens with a lot of fictional characters, it’s easy to see him as just a whacky sassy glittery quirky rockstar when i guess it avoids the inherent tragedy of like ... everything else about him. his totally fake and false sense of identity built up from superficial things like fame and labels and stardom. maybe my version of ziggy is just too weirdly depressing and sad when i know his original iteration wasn’t quite so ... grim. im not very sure tbh.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — hmmm ... a lot of things! i just really got into b*wie stuff in early 2019, i’ve ALWAYS loved aliens and sci-fi, and i was really shocked that db sets up such great visual storytelling potential but does it through music. i just really liked ziggys “story” and i like any chance to think about aliens so i just got invested into piecing together a little backstory for him using, like, the cumulative knowledge of literally every other piece of science fiction ive ever consumed in my life. this was summer 2019 when i was making initial pitches for my thesis film, and so i just randomly decided to pitch “animated version of ziggy stardust” as one of the potential ideas. shockingly everyone liked it a lot and so did my professor who thought it was really cool, and then i just ended up sticking with the character and working on him for an entire year. ziggy became my hobby but also my homework. he was such a fun character because everything about him was interesting to me and i had just enough source material to have a starting point but so much room to take him in any direction i wanted to.

What keeps your inspiration going? — honestly, yooooou guyssssss. i have some really amazing fwends that ive met thru here .... and some of our dumb stupid stories have literally become NOVEL length. it just self generates inspiration because you realize the limitless amount of stories you could tell with this one single character when your character enters his story or he enters their story and etc. etc. ive drawn endless amounts of comics and stuff for him ... ziggy is just so endlessly interesting ... cringe be cringed bro but recently (i know this sounds dumb bear with me or die.) ive kind of realized a lot of how i rp z comes as some metaphor for the experience of being an asian immigrant/being asian in the US -- his home “culture” is a lot stricter than the rampant selfish individualism of the usa (he only lives in the uk and usa, so he thinks the whole planet is like this), he’s dissuaded from standing out from his community and his selfishness becomes a community burden rather than a personal flaw, and when he does come to earth, he goes through such awful culture shock, literally nothing makes sense to him and everything is Different. and while some things are different in a Nice way, something things are different in an Awful way, and he’s given the option between losing his true personal identity as an atominan and giving it up to be a human. the allure of being a human is a little too much but losing yourself like this is traumatic, in a way. obvs like ... a little silly and definitely not something that i actively intended to put into his story arc, its just something that fell into place cuz i guess i worked so closely with my own personal experiences and feelings of “alienation” (pun intended) to try to understand how he would feel being a literal alien an shid. its cathartic to write about him. but he also has a lot of my own personal interests just thrown in -- 70s fashion, scifi, science, tryhard implications about human nature, art history, whatever dumb nonsense i get into

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO / SOMETIMES?

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO [ i would prefer information to spring up organically in the story but cuz threads always get dropped i end up just telling people outright. i didnt want anyone to know his home planet/his old name but barely anyone writes enough with ziggy to get to that point to reveal it (i legit managed to do it organically Once) so i just had to write it in a post lmao orz ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO [ wrote a ton of drabbles ! drew a ton of comics! ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / I DUNNO?

Are you confident in your writing? YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO. / IDK ?

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — definitely! like i said ... my version of ziggy ended up being the protag of my thesis film and for 1 yr straight his characterization, backstory, design, and even how i wanted to animate his fucking movements (ziggy stardust timing charts.) were beaten to death in a classroom environment, torn apart and rebuilt into something better. had i stayed with what i originally wanted to go with, ziggy would be so different than how i write him 2day. amazingly my pre production professor is a literal two time emmy award winning storyboard artist and animator so he definitely helped me design him (my version of ziggy is meant for ... a cartoon, obviously, not real life) and give him a better backstory? and my post production professor is a retired disney animator who worked on hercules and a bunch of old disney channel shows? had i gone wah wah wah i dont want to hear ur critiques i wouldnt have made him better. if you ever think ziggy seems inconsistent or poorly written ... tell me !! i literally major in ... animation. cartoons. entertainment. my job is to entertain you. if you are not entertained, there is a problem. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED ????

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — I LOVE QUESTIONS? i love ... answering questions ... if you ask me something ill come kiss you.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — sure! i dont know why that would happen, though, because i mean ... he’s an OC. but i gues someone could be like “i feel like this is incongruous to things you’ve previously established in his character” or somethin

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — i feel like a lot of b*wie stans would find my version of ziggy weird but i mean thats fine! i guess my goal is to have a well written character, not necessarily an accurate version of ziggy

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — if you hate MY version of ziggy thats fine but if u hate ziggy stardust in general (like the bowie concept) then u need some taste what the fuck is cooler than a egomaniac genderless bisexual rockstar alien with red hair? nothing. go back to watching your CW shows you dirty filthy normie

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — yes! dm me though. dont clown me on the dash like that. i usually write your replies 12 AM - 4 AM so it’s expected.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — hmmm ... maybe! i do like to talk to people and i am VERY nice, trust me, if youre ever sad ill do everything i can to make you feel better. but im quiet! i dont really reach out to people and i tend to just keep to myself. im not very social or extroverted at all haha i barely can make ooc posts without feeling like god’s coming to beat my head in with a brick. im sitting here at 5:30 AM with this meme feeling like if i post it i will die (BUT I MUST)

#a lot of it is under the readmore because these always get so long and mine is long long long long long long long long long long long #ooc #KEEP YOUR 'LECTRIC EYE ON ME ; queue #and thakn you for tagging me ! i like to mkae Words

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mcrmadness · 4 years ago

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Oooo, how about two from each of them? Fanfic asks: J and P, film asks: 15 and 16, music asks: 20 and 26.

OMG thanks!!! :DDD

Ask games: Fanfic asks, Film asks and Music asks. (People you can still send me asks if you want, asks are fun to answer to!)

***

FANFIC ASKS:

A little background before we get to the questions: I haven’t written too many, actually only 6 quite short ones (and one of them is a bit longer than usual) about Die Ärzte (Bela/Farin FTW) and all of these I have written between the years 2009 and 2012, so I was 18-21 which means they are not that good. And there’s lots of things I wouldn’t write anymore. I also have a WIP on my computer, I started it in 2012 but stopped writing altogether only to start writing again in the end 2018, it has bit over 28k words currently and tbh I have written 90% of that when I started writing again two years ago. I still have my old ones up on LiveJournal (ask for a link), but I haven’t published anything fron this later one as I’ve just been writing down all kinds of snippets whenever I have had an inspiration. I think those are also a lot better in quality than what I wrote before, the old ones are quite cringey.

J. What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I guess we talk about those fics I have also finished, now. It’s actually hard to decide but I would say my favourite is either Why not even once? or The Boring Book Freak. I think the latter is actually The favourite.

The first one (was actually my second dä ff overall) is set to happen in 2003 and in that one Farin is leaving for another vacation somewhere and Bela wants to go with him, but Farin wants to travel alone and Bela is struggling with that, as well as with Farin finally leaving and having to somehow survive his time at home without Farin there. The writing itself is bit stupid and I feel that the end got bit too far but otherwise I like the idea.

The second one (came actually after the previous one) is set to happen in the early/mid 90s (my fave Bela/Farin era btw) and on that they just are at some random summer cottage. Now, fuck cottagecores and such, I wrote it because summer cottages are a thing in Finland and I wrote it when cottagecore was not even cool yet. Somehow I imagined that it would be very Farin-like to rent a cottage from the middle of nowhere, in a forest and then spend a weekend or so there with Bela. Who then is not entertained at all and is bored because Farin won’t put away his book and won’t give him any attention, so he tries everything to get Farin’s attention. I especially like the visual images this fanfic gives to me, I can see their hairs and outfits so well and those are also aesthetically very pleasing. (They look the same as in that Absolut Live interview from the 90s, I don’t control their looks with my fics usually, I just have an idea and then my brain creates how they look in that particular scene :D)

I have also written a short songfic around the lyrics of their song “Ich weiß nicht (ob es Liebe ist)” and it was fun to imagine that as Bela/Farin. That was fun to write.

This got a bit long so I put the rest under a cut:

P. What are your favorite tropes to write?

(Had to google what a trope is lol. I’m old-school and no longer know most of the terms unless they’re old terms.)

Angst - I put my own angst, sadness and angriness into my writing often. It’s when I feel like in real life I would need other people but I don’t know how to reach out or don’t just feel comfortable about opening up, I open up a file and start writing. This is also where we get to the next trope...

Hurt/Comfort - But not so that X hurts Y, but that Y feels hurt for other reasons and then X comforts them. I kinda got obsessed with this theme after being bullied at school so I was always hurt but never comforted, so I often go back to those feels and emotions with my text to look for that comfort (hug, nice words, whatever) I never got in real life.

Fluff - This is bit complicated because I like writing fluff but I also hate reading fluff I have written. Because it does not sound like me. And sometimes when I write, I feel like standing behind my own back and vomiting a little on the inside because of how cheesy and disgusting that is but still I can’t stop writing. And then I feel like a different person when I read them because I can’t believe it’s ME who wrote them. The same way when I watch movies and people kiss, I always look away. And I want to look away when I read my fanfiction. But I can’t, especially because I know I looked at that scene in my head when I wrote it.

Humour - I love humour so much and I like to include this to my writing. Normally I put the humour in my comics but some of that fits also in the regular texts too.

***

FILM ASKS:

These are super tough but also fun - I have been trying to think of what to answer to these for days.

15. A film everyone loves but you hate?

The Avengers (-12). Sorry but not sorry. Well I don’t hate it but I don’t understand why everyone says it’s the best Marvel movie ever. It’s not. It’s full of clichés and stupid forced heteroromances and whatnot and the plot was just so, so predictive I don’t understand why it’s often talked about as some sort of cinematic master piece. I literally was able to tell everything that was gonna happen next when I watched it for the first time. Only cool things in that movie are Loki and Iron Man, whose character I already liked as I had seen the Iron Man movie and liked it. But I hated both Thor movies (the third one is awesome tho).

I like Marvel and I have seen I guess most of the movies - before MCU all good Marvel movies to come out were The X-Men movies and Spider-Man movies, and because I saw so many terrible Marvel movies, I was avoiding the whole MCU and I got into these movies much later and still, after seeing them all, I say The Avengers is one of the worst ones. Thor and Thor 2 are pretty much even worse (and I haven’t even seen the Hulk movie because it looks terrible), mainly because I just can’t stand the fact they’re mainly just built around Thor and his love interest...

16. A film you love but everyone else hates?

Spider-Man 3 (or the whole trilogy with Tobey Maguire). I see we continue with Marvel here but seriously I don’t understand why everyone is always picking on Tobey’s version of Spider-Man? And people especially hate the third movie and how Venom was portrayed in it (I’m obsessed with Venom’s human teeth pls I want his teeth), when it’s actually the best one for me. The second one is bit boring because it was again all about whining and Mary-Jane... Anyway, the reason why I am so attached to these movies is that I saw the first Spider-Man movie from TV when I was a teenager and in junior high myself, and I was bullied and a bit of a nerd so I could relate to Peter Parker a lot, and it gave me just so much strength to see him become Spider-Man and to stand up against the bullies and other assholes.

I also saw the third movie in the movie theater and there was one scene during which I started hysterically laughing with my friend because of an expression Tobey made as he was sitting on a bed, I don’t know why but somehow I just totally lost it at that :D It still makes me laugh so much when I see it! And when the movie ended, I heard a The Killers song “Move Away” for the first time during the end credits and TK was one of my favorite bands at the time (and still is).

***

MUSIC ASKS:

20. a song that empowers you

It gotta be Dead! by My Chemical Romance:

youtube

This album was what got me through all the shit that happened when I was 15+ and especially this song always made (and still makes) me feel so good. I often listened to my old mp3 player while walking to school and back home and every time this song came by, I just felt like nothing can harm and that life FINALLY was so great! It’s so energetic and still makes me feel that living is actually super awesome.

26. a song that taught you a lesson

Hmmm. I think I will answer to this with Dusche by Farin Urlaub.

youtube

That thumbnail is terrible but... And why did I choose this song? Well, I’m all for the sound what comes to music and I’d say at least 80% of all lyrics go way over my head. I just don’t have the skills for understanding poetry and also very poetic lyrics make me go crazy. I hate not knowing and when I have to assume, guess and interpret something. I don’t want to guess but I wanna know what someone has actually thought.

Dusche was the first song that had lyrics that for the first time ever actually spoke for me. I probably saw some video with English subtitles a fan had made and it just blew me away because holy shit, people are capable of writing lyrics even I can understand??? And that way I realized I can like lyrics but only if they make absolutely no sense (aka are funny or somewhat crazy, like Dusche) or when they are written in a story form or sung from the 1st person view or to “you” or in passive - but only if I can get behind the idea there.

After Dusche, Farin’s song Porzellan followed. And one of my absolute favourites is Karten. So, Farin is one of the only few people whose lyrics I have been able to understand. I still don’t hear lyrics and don’t understand a majority of the lyrics my fave bands write, and I have understood only a couple of Bela’s lyrics and I’m not sure if I’ve understood any of Rod’s lyrics. It’s not even about the language barrier anymore really, it’s just the topics or wordings I cannot comprehend.

Thank you again for the ask! This was very interesting to ponder and answer to :)

#useless-blog-of-a-moth #mutuals #ask games #mcrmadness' random stuff

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