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halfmoth-halfman · 6 months ago

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The Ways That I Love You

Pairing: Wyll Ravengard x GN!Reader Word Count: ~700 Warnings: fluff, mild angst, minor blood and gore

You’ve never said the words to each other.

You probably never will.

But you both know.

It’s in the way Wyll laughs, loud and carefree, when you tell him a joke.

He’s a beacon in the darkness that surrounds your little camp, the fire’s glow burning a beautiful amber on his rich, brown skin. His smile is wide, brighter than the fire between you, his happiness so infectious, you can’t help but smile too. Very few can pull this kind of laughter from him, but you meet his eyes and know. It’s only you that can give him such joy — such ease, such comfort — to make him forget the burdens of his past that constantly loom over him. It’s only you. It’ll only ever be you.

It’s in the way you help him clean his horns after a battle.

He’s adapted to their weight, learned to balance his curved crown in battle, and how to sleep without straining his neck. The sensitivity, though… He’s never been fond of the gore staining his armor and skin after a battle, but the feel of blood dripping from his horns fills him with a new type of sick. He never complains, but the slight twitches of his head tell you everything you need to know.

You wait until you’re alone, absconding with Wyll into your shared tent. Head carefully resting in your lap, you pick through the viscera tangled in his horns and meticulously wipe them until they shine. It’s become a ritual for you, tending to the other half of your heart as he dozes against your thighs. It almost slips from your tongue then, held back at the last moment, but he feels the tenderness of your touch and he knows.

It’s in the way he holds out his hand, a silent ask to join his midnight dance.

It’s probably an inappropriate time to dance, but is there ever an appropriate time when you’re fighting the clock and a parasite in your brain? Neither of you can sleep, staring into the dying fire as you listen to your companions snore from their tents. A log pops, faint sparks shooting toward your feet, and Wyll stands.

He presents his hand, softened gaze watching and waiting for your answer. You take it without hesitation, letting him pull you in a waltz you’ve done so many times before. It’s clumsy, the only sounds your feet in the dirt and muffled laughter, but it’s perfect. A quiet moment to forget the world that is forever crashing down around you meant only to be shared between the two of you.

It’s in the way you wake before him, lying still to let him sleep just a bit longer.

Days, weeks, months of endless travel takes its toll on all of you. Never one to complain, Wyll doesn’t speak on how tired he is, how every morning is just a bit harder to get through than the last. You don’t need him to tell you; you feel the ache in your bones, the weight pulling at your limbs. With the role of leader so graciously thrusted upon you, you know you’re meant to up and ready at every daybreak, but he looks so peaceful sleeping beside you.

You keep still, content to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart and ignore the telltale sounds of your companions beginning to rise. You let him sleep until the sun’s risen, gently shaking him when Karlach begins to call for breakfast. He huffs every time, but can’t deny how much better he feels. After a few minutes of playful arguing and someone coming to check on you, he thanks you with a kiss. He makes you promise not to do it again, and you seal it with a kiss and your fingers crossed behind your back.

It’s in the way you carry each other through this adventure, keeping one another grounded amidst the chaos and blood and reality-shattering revelations.

It’s in the way you defend him against his patron, unwavering even when she taunts and threatens you and swearing on every god, known and unknown, to help him escape her grasp.

It’s in the way you vow to stay by his side long after you draw your last breath — your souls are bound in this life and every life after — and he draws his blade to pledge himself to you.

No, you’ve never said the words to each other.

Maybe you never will.

But you both know, and that's all you need.

#wyll ravengard x reader #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #wyll #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate wyll #bg3 wyll #bg3 fics #moth writes #def didn't forget this one just had to postpone it a week #but i hope you guys enjoy!!!

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stressed-sock · 1 year ago

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hi hello this is melra the keeper of secrets!!

giant eldritch librarian that used to be human - now runs an almost sentient library containing all lost knowledge

oh also i really wanted to get her story out so it's all under the cut ^-^

~*~

her village needed to sacrifice someone to be the next keeper of the library and being an orphan and outcast, she was inevitably chosen.

the village elders take her to what looks like the ruins of a temple and force a mask on to her face - she tries to resist but it's firmly latched to her face. then with a flash of blinding pain she starts to transform into the form shown above, and as she slowly stands up in her new form, several things hit her at once.

for one, most of her memories are gone - she looks down at the tiny specks that are the village elders and feels nothing. in the back of her mind she feels like she should've felt something like disgust or resentment. but she doesn't.

looking up once more, she raises her hand in an almost instinctive motion, and with a deep rumble, enormous walls near overflowing with books start to rise out of the ground. the elders, stunned, try to stumble away as fast as they can but are crushed by falling debris.

finally there's a moment of complete silence as even the birds fall quiet.

~*~

years turn into centuries as the new keeper tends to the library. when she's not busy, she takes to learning vast amounts of knowledge as she whiles away her years.

sometimes there's the occasional adventurer, alleviating her boredom and loneliness if only for a moment. of course, they never stay long, only searching for the knowledge she guarded.

later, she takes to sculpting stone figures, giving them life with enchanted gems so that they can help her with her duties and also keep her company.

however, one fateful day, a new adventurer strides in with an ugly arrogance marring his otherwise handsome face. he was a knight, if his shining armor had anything to say about it. his helmet was casually nestled in the crook of his arm, revealing his teal hair tied back in a messy bun.

the keeper greets him and he ignores her, merely demanding that she give him the knowledge he wanted. she pauses and tells him the rules as she always does: a secret for a secret - the knowledge must be traded for something equal in value.

the knight scoffs and draws his sword, a massive blade almost his height. he brandishes it saying that if she died there would be no one to stop him.

this one is different, the keeper belatedly realizes. and though she isn't quite a fortune teller, she can still see that his greed will be his downfall.

another thing she recognizes far too late is the knight's speed and skill. as her hands glow with magic to defend herself and her library, he's already leaping into the air, bringing his blade down with a resounding crack! as it embeds itself into her mask, large cracks forming at the site of impact.

the keeper staggers back, and the knight grins still holding onto his sword as she falls. a splatter of her golden ichor is streaked across the side of his face.

she collapses to the ground and doesn't feel much after that (though she hadn't felt much to begin with).

she doesn't know what happens to the knight - but she can at least find solace in the fact that he has lost any chance of getting what he sought. he would find each and every one of the countless books incomprehensible.

~*~

after who knows how long, the keeper wakes up and is met with darkness.

she realizes there is something on her face, and she reaches to get it - a mask apparently - off.

momentarily blinded by the sudden onslaught of light, she blinks, waiting for her eyes to adjust before realizing that she has eyes to blink with and a mouth to speak and all of the other normal features human faces have.

the mask sits innocently in her lap, and she sees the perfectly smooth surface interrupted by jagged cracks. a familiar gem is embedded in the largest, and she finally takes a good look at her surroundings.

the enormous library she's in looks familiar yet not. it feels like yesterday when she had been dragged here and yet there's a gaping hole in her mind where she knows memories should be. she is normal person size, she then belatedly realizes, and looking at how the ceiling seems to stretch infinitely upward, she feels incredibly small.

glancing around, she sees a gaggle of people having a lively discussion at the base of what she instinctively knows is her old desk.

to her right, there's someone with his back turned, rummaging through a bag. he turns and his eyes widen.

"you're awake!"

"i... guess i am," she replies.

the stranger pauses, then smiles.

"i'm elliot. what's your name?"

the keeper - no that's not her name, not anymore - looks down at the mask again, finger tracing the gem embedded in it.

"melra. my name is melra."

#ocstuff #solis - original story #myart #rambles #sorry if the writing isn't too great lol

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warlock-enthusiast · 2 years ago

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I posted 2,027 times in 2022

265 posts created (13%)

1,762 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@heywizards

@serenbach86

@curiousstrawberry

@drhu0806

@magnetklaue

I tagged 1,879 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#critical role - 261 posts

#elden ring - 240 posts

#art - 130 posts

#yes - 125 posts

#personal - 123 posts

#dragon age - 115 posts

#cats - 90 posts

#mass effect - 64 posts

#spoilers - 56 posts

#long post - 52 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#also talked to him about why silencing the one female character? and he answered that she will not be mute in the end

My Top Posts in 2022:

I commissioned the absolutely talented @echollama to draw my Tiefling girl Dahlia and she turned out so stunning <3

Some background on her:

Formerly called Love she was raised as a pleasure servant and didn't go outside much. She was content with life for a good few years, made some friends, lived in relative comfort. Love was sold after a few years and before she reached the coast of her new home, her ship was swallowed by the ocean. Before dying, a devil named Razal rescued her and made her his Warlock, promises of power and magic and freedom included. She is now adventuring through Tal'Dorei with a Triton bard at her side and trying to fit in and learn the customs outside of her own experience.

She's bubbly and friendly and a bit naive, because this whole doing what you want thing is new to her.

69 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

Strahd impressions from today. Player got me a little Strahd

71 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

Unless of course, thou shouldst take the crown?

Fandom: Elden Ring (there will be some story spoilers)

Characters: Blaidd x female Tarnished

Rating: Explicit (it is shameless smut)

The Tarnished and Blaidd meet in Caelid.

AO3 link

Part one

-------

You’ve taken refuge in an old hut. Hidden beneath cliffs and the endless red wastes of Caelid, you’re sighing a breath of relief. The path to Redmane castle is dangerous and filled with nightmares, which will haunt your dreams. You’ve seen people claimed by the scarlet rot, slowly losing their mind and life, and all you can offer is a quick end to their suffering.

And yet, there is Milicent and you're hopefully able to save her. A small act of kindness in all of this.

You’ve washed off the dirt and grime of your path and close your eyes for a brief moment.

Finally some rest. Your shoulders are stiff and your feet hurt and every piece of your equipment carries traces of the rot. It has not been your best day.

Soft, golden hues of reclaimed grace shine through a window that has been barred with planks. It’s a point of safety and your wounds are closed and your immortal soul stronger after a day of fighting.

And you’re not alone, which is so out of the ordinary that your stomach is in knots.

He’s too broad for the chair and hunched awkwardly on the creaking wood. His hulking sword leans against the wall and his cloak covers most of a once comfortable bed. It’s strange to see him without his armor and just in some linen shirt, almost casual and relaxed.

Blaidd watches your movements and the air between you is thick and filled with unspoken things. You rub your neck and try to understand what is going on between you. You haven’t seen each other since Siofra with your paths leading you into different parts of the land.

You’ve become much stronger, but not when he is near you and you can’t control the thoughts running through your mind. All of them seem so depraved.

You look for anything to talk about, anything to quieten your mind. “How long until we reach the castle.”

“Hard to tell. I’m sure the Festival won’t start without us though. We’re the main attraction.” There is a dry humor in his voice, which helps to quench some of your own doubts about the goal of your journey and all the unknowns. But you hope that one day it might be easier to read the expressions on his face and the subtle nuances in his tone.

“I still fear what is expected of us.”

“Using teeth and claws to win against a demi-god that has gone mad with the rot?”

You rub the bridge of your nose. “Hmmm, nothing out of the ordinary then? I vividly remember Godrick and Rennala and that hasn’t been much fun.”

Blaidd shrugs. “Not for us, yes. But who else is trying to put the Lands Between back together again? We have to start somewhere.”

To be fair, some weeks you are not sure what and why you are fighting for. They have banished your kind so long ago and you need to carve out for a place for yourself again. You follow your own train of thoughts as you feel the mood shift slightly. It’s in the way he watches your every movement, how his eyes never leave your body, and how he tries to find a comfortable position in the chair.

This time, there is no immediate danger. You’re clean and well rested and hunger stirs in your body. Maybe it’s longing for a quick escape of your dreary day and of the death that awaits you every waking hour. The need to feel more, someone warm and as eager as yourself. Your last encounter only left you with longing and a desire that shines too bright in your own darkness.

You slip out of your clothing, feeling a draft coming from the thin walls. Blaidd’s eyes match your hunger, but there is a feral note in his gaze. For a brief moment you wonder how it’d be to give in to this and ask him to not control himself. All he’s ever been is friendly, open, loyal to a fault. The thought of him letting his beast take over and just use you for his pleasure is frightening and exciting at the same time.

Maybe he guesses your thoughts or catches a hint of it, because it seems to get warmer in this little hut.

“Tarnished…” A low growl erupts from his throat and you notice the outline of his cock pressing against his breeches.

It’s an invitation.

You touch him once, twice, through the fabric and he closes his eyes and arches his neck. But you’re not patient enough to play a game of teasing and flirting and open his breeches. Blaidd helps with pulling them down his knees and his cock is freed.

See the full post

94 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

Around 4 am husband woke up, produced small annoyed noises and then proceeded to roll into my arms, because he wanted to be held ... now my arms are dead, but it was so adorable.

109 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I woke up and looked at this

1,444 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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jeannahas · 6 months ago

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-- 3 Weeks - Grey Skies --

-someone who knows how to place tags, your services will likely be needed.

Three Weeks.

That's how long it had been, you see, since I learned just how much my life was worth to them.

Three miserable, long, grey weeks. Weeks of sideways glances, of whispered words, of kids asking me excitedly what a dragon's scales felt like, what a dragon's breath smelled like up close.

Three weeks of sickly sweet smiles and honeyed words - three weeks of utter, irredeemable lies that I had had to endure.

The sky seemed to agree with me on the situation, as it had been overcast, rain had been misting down, and the wind hadn't even bothered doing anything interesting or distracting since he had come through.

It had been terrifying. Waves crashed against the cliffside as they dragged me out of town, kicking and screaming, at that beast's demand. Heat seared from it's chest as It had landed in the town square, and I vividly remember as its jaws snapped around old Tim, the hunter who had taught me to hold a bow, and as one of it's claws had slammed down on Maebel, a washer woman I'd talked to nearly every day.

"The fairest among you for me, or the villaige burns."

Its words had sounded wrong, of course. Reptiles were not meant to produce the speech of people, but this creature had, before it had turned it's horned head to the windmill, the one that ran our well and dredged up water for our crops during the dry season, and had set it ablaze, the miller and his wife still very much inside.

That hadn't been the horror. Not for me. No, that was just the beginning.

You see, apparently, the town had collectively decided that I was their fairest.

Or, that I was the fairest they were willing to give up. No one scrambled to propose that their wives be laid out as the monster's feast.

Lacy and Old Nate were the ones who dragged me out of my home kicking and screaming after sunset. My mother and father just covered their faces and looked away, and the kids all crouched in their windows - Kids I had taught how to read, the way my mother had taught me, kids who had played hoops with me as they dragged me away from my work. tending the flocks, or helping with the washing. Jane - little jane who I had taught how to make little crowns with the flowers that grew at the edge of the village, along the south wall, she clung to her mother, locked eyes with me, and said nothing as the others dragged me away. As I bloodied my hands clawing at the ground.

They tied me to a stake that they had somehow found the time to drive into the ground there, at the edge of the cliff. My voice turned to ash as I begged, pleaded, screamed at them to let me go - as I called each and every one of them by name.

It hurts, sometimes, having known everyone your whole life, when they decide that life isn't worth enough to them.

I looked down at my hands, as the rain misted down, as I looked out over the cruelly calm sea, as tall grasses swayed around me. The post lay on the ground just a little to my left, charred to a cinder, and I would have been alongside it. Indignantly quiet, compared to the lighting, the torrential rain and the crashing waves of that night.

I remembered when HE came. Shining armor, riding a mount, drawing the monster's attention. It had landed on the edge of town, laughing. A low rumble that spoke of power, confidence, of superiority absolute.

It had brought it's snout next to my ear as tears and frigid rain poured down my face, unable to flee, unable to move, twitch, or turn away.

"How quickly they abandoned you... no fight... no resistance... such a delicacy. Your pain will be my greatest treasure - your pain - and their guilt."

Then the creature reared up, opened its jaws to incinerate me or to eat me the way it ate Old Tim, before it suddenly turned away from me, and the fight began. Something broke my ropes, and I scrambled out of them, crawling through the grass like my life depended on it- which, i suppose it did. The dragon burned that stake, perhaps a frustrated attempt to kill me anyway.

The Knight's lance hit true, however, as his two companions launched hooks attached to strong chains to trip up the beast and keep it from flying away.

And our terror was dead - slain and smoldering on the cliffside, before it tumbled over the edge into the crashing surf below, where its body still lay, broken, battered, food for the crabs and other creatures that could reach it. Practically bones now.

I didn't look down.

I didn't look behind me, at the village that had stood in dumbstruck amazement as the knight rode back into town with me sat astride his animal, flanked by his two companions in their dark leathers and bloodstained clothes.

He handed me back to my parents.

They cried.

They barely held me, I could feel the hesitation. They pointedly didn't look at my bloodied hands, fingernails caked and pried off, in some cases, as I had tried not to die.

The kids did talk to me. I supposed I couldn't really blame them - what could they do, they were so small. Jane hugged me, tears pouring down her face.

No one else did, as the town feasted and celebrated. someone put a flower crown on my head, and the knight was toasted for his bravery as someone else washed my hands while avoiding my gaze.

Then he left. He and his two companions. On to do more good deeds, to receive more feasts, I suppose. I hadn't bothered remembering his name.

I made them look me in the eye, that night. I looked right at Lacy, with her three little kids, that I'd taught numbers to. Right at Old Nate, and his cane, as I considered the strength of his carpenter's hands as he'd tied mine behind my back. I locked eyes with my parents, with Marley, and with Rowan - who had professed love for me only a few nights before, and who had held a torch so the others could see as they lashed me to a stake.

Who were really the monsters? the creature dead below me, or the people who had raised me, who had lived alongside me, and had cast me aside at the demand of a beast and a tyrant?

I clasped my hands together, felt the shudder come over my shoulders as I felt my expression turn hollow. i couldn't stay here, not here with the too-kind smiles, the too-friendly faces, to the people who greeted me as they always had and pretended that they hadn't tried to kill me.

I laughed bitterly, in that flat air by the cliffside, and turned my head up to the grey sky. I considered becoming the monster they had feared - taking up the dragon's work, fulfilling his promise. He hadn't eaten me - I could easily hold up his demand, go about burning the town to the ground, throwing their torches back in their faces, back onto their thached rooves, see how they liked the fear, see how they liked screaming, with no one to care or help them.

I relished in the surge of power that rushed through me at the thought, before I felt reality set in.

I couldn't do that to the kids.

Not to them.

I didn't trust their parents to save them anymore.

Where to go then? What to do?

The thought crossed my mind to just step off the edge of the cliff, to join that monster at the bottom and be free of the twisted pain of it all, when something stole my attention away from my misery.

My eyes locked on a traveler making their way up the road that ran alongside the coast, that passed near the town. they wore a brown cloak, and at first I thought them a monk, or some other pilgrim, untill I saw the longsword on their hip, simple, utilitarian, and unadorned, but still worth a good three to five cows if I had to guess.

I thought they would pass me by, but when I turned my gaze in their direction, they paused, before turning, and trudging towards me.

I realized then it was a woman, with long dark curls, wearing a simple blue tunic and trousers of a style I'd never seen before in my small village.

She looked at the ground, the ashes, the charred remains of the stake, and then leaned over to see the dead creature below.

"Ah." She said simply, standing, arms crossed as a wind picked up from the sea for the first time in weeks, blowing her brown cloak back, revealing the dented but definitely functional armor she wore on her left arm. "I see that I'm late."

She turned to look at me, for a moment, dark skin speaking of an upbringing farther south, where the sun beat down against the coast.

"They chose you then, didn't they."

I turned up to her. It had not been a question.

"What?"

"As the sacrifice."

She nodded her head back to my village. "They chose you, didn't they? When that thing demanded a sacrifice. That, or they chose someone close to you- lover, sister, perhaps, and they weren't saved in time. which is it?"

I turned back to stare at the sea, setting my head on my arms. As memories of that night flashed through my mind. she glanced down at my hands.

"Ah, yes, - it was you."

"How could you tell?"

She didn't answer. Rather, she sat down next to me, folding her legs up underneath her, and set her sword across her lap.

Without turning to me, she spoke. "It hurts, knowing how easily those who loved you can cast you aside sometimes. Living your life thinking you mean the world to them, the way that they mean the world to you."

I turned to her, confused.

"What do you mean?"

She lifted her arm, and removed the metal plates, revealing a burn that stretched from her middle finger all the way up to her neck.

"Happened to me too. Couldn't stay there, not after what they did to me. Smaller dragon, I'll give you that. "

"What did you do? Did someone save you?"

"No." She said bluntly, eyes cold. "I had to save myself. Got real creative with some of the terrain, and I had a large boulder. Dropped it on the creature's head as It chased me scent. I couldn't exactly go home, after that, So... I took to this." She smiled, setting a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Took to wandering, figured I'd keep an ear out for others like me."

I hesitated, some kind of hollow echo of hope rising in my chest.

"And then what?"

She placed the vambrace back on, and with difficulty attached it to some piece of armor under her tunic.

"Well, you're the first I've run across, so I thought I'd give you a choice."

I raised an eyebrow.

She smiled.

"Join me, leave this hellhole behind, and let's see if we can do some good in the world, eh? Kind of a, teacher-apprentice thing. Lots of people get abandoned the way we were - and not just to appease the appetite of dragons. There are crueler things in this world, and you'll quickly find that most of the monsters we'll face will be very human. "

I looked down at my simple dress, better for farming and sheep herding than anything else, and up at her. Her sword, her cloak, the experience practically radiating off of her.

"How do we make money?"

"Whatever works, darling"

"Where will we sleep?"

"Tree roots can be surprisingly comfortable if you find a good hiding spot from the wolves."

"Where will we go?"

"Down the road that way, and then probably wherever we can find trouble."

"You realize that's terrible planning, right?"

"Oh, immensely so."

I took it her hand without a second thought, and she lifted me up to my feet.

"Lead on." I stated hoarsly, and followed her into the grey mist.

I never looked back once.

I suspect that the others in the town were glad to see me go. It's been Three more weeks since - I have my own sword now - got it off of a bandit who figured we'd be easy to take down. It's much easier to face down a charging man when you've had a dragon breathing in your face. Puts things into perspective. I have my own cloak now, and piece by piece we've been getting me armor. Long way to go, there, but at least now I have some proper pants to fight in.

I knew I would be back - some day, years from now. I promised myself that - I would be back, and I would force them to truly face what they had done.

Maybe then, after I was stronger, I'd forgive them.

Or burn the town down and reduce it to forgotten ashes.

I'd decide when the time came.

but for for now...

I guess it was time to do a little good in the world - to reach a hand out to those the world had deemed sacrifice enough, and intervene in whatever way my new teacher and I could.

--End--

Hey anybody going to talk about rescued sacrificial maidens. Like yes a guy with a fuck off sword turned up and so you're not getting fed to the dragon/water creature/mountain spirit/vague embodiment of all things scary and you get to go back home, but is that really home? Your mom hugs you and your dad says he's so happy you're alive and you know that when they said they'll do anything to keep you safe they didn't really mean it. They have a feast prepared and you get to taste what they cooked for your funeral, help wash the dishes after. And it's selfish to think that between the whole village with everyone in it and you they wouldn't pick the lesser evil but it still leaves an emptiness in your chest, knowing exactly how much your life is worth. And the neighbors smile at you awkwardly and the neighbors' kids yell "hey! I thought you died!" because they don't know not to do that yet and maybe you did. Maybe you did.

And the hero with the fuck-off sword rode off into the sunset the way they always do but you're still here and you herd the cows by the cliff where you were tied up in your cleanest clothes waiting to not be alive anymore and sometimes you think that would be easier and when you don't come back one day, you can imagine it's a relief for everyone involved. Maybe you'll be the new thing to haunt the mountain, or maybe you'll follow down the road and listen for cries that sound like yours did. Either way, there's little left to fear. You know exactly how much your life is worth.

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shvault · 1 year ago

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To the one who broke my soul. | A

08 November 2023, 10:01 PM, "Galikay lang ko maattach ka hehe sowe"

Hearing that phrase shattered my heart. Say Don't Go was just released a few days ago and boy, the lyrics tells my situation right now. I'm eating lunch in the office writing this to let it out of my thoughts. Yesterday, my phone popout a late notif from you saying goodnight. I cried. It hurts just by seeing that knowing I shouldn't reciprocate even if I want to. You clearly draw the line that I SHOULD NOT BE ATTACHED TO YOU. So why did you lead me on?

We met during the darkest time of my life. Lost someone close to me and you were there. As if you were my shining armor. You made me laugh and smile when i'm about to break down 'cause of relapse. You don't know that you lightened something inside of me. I was on the verge of giving up life but you came. I was questioning my worth but you gave me confidence by those compliments. Now, I think you just loved bombed me. You were the sweetest and caring person when you're bored.

We already met 3 times but I think it will stop there. The first time we met, you wore a cap, black tshirt, shorts and slipons. First look and I know you are the one I was talking to even though you catfish yourself on the app we met. I was surprise that it's true that you are tall. I was shook of how good-looking you are. That explains why you are so confident that I wouldn't run away when we met in person. It's true. I was already smitten. I got so nervous that night when you locked the door. Didn't expect anything really. But we were asking questions and slowly I know your real name. My friends were right. I was also shocked that I already know you by stalking your social media. I even joked about to my friends if the person i'm talking to (D) won't reveal himself, i'd date you. Cause why not? And tadaa! Surprise it was really you. I don't understand why you're hiding until now. Are you waiting for someone?

I was ready to risk something again even if it's slowburned. I entertained you whilst being scared to fall in love again. But fuck, your words of affirmation really got me. I fall into your trap and you do nothing about it. I am aware, you said from the beginning that your intention is just to introduce yourself and nothing more. I'm the crazy and delusional one who thinks that time could change your decision but no, I did not learn my lesson, you are firm with your intentions. I'm sorry but I felt more sorry for myself for putting you on pedestal.

All those nonchalant acts, not walking by my side in public places, no more morning greetings, no longer calling me our endearment, etc. "you kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath." You just answered that night. You can't commit to me. You want me to be detach. I'm doing it right now. I can't care for you anymore even if I wanted you. I'd choose you in this universe but you can't. Waiting for you to tell me to stay but I know you won't. I hope that move is worth losing me, no, giving you peace from my burden love for you. Joke, I know you did nothing wrong, you don't owe me anything really. Accepting the fact that you will be a friend.

I don't know who will be next, but I wish the universe would be kind to me. If allowed to love again, I hope we are both genuine and with pure intentions. I will give my feelings to the person who will also choose me. I learned my lessons.

Thank you for everything. I'm flipping the next chapter. 🤍

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that-yandere-life · 3 years ago

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i was watching Hawkeye and Kate is a big fan of him. So i was thinking, what if Clint’s darling is a also a fan? They meet each other and shes like OMGGG IT’S HAWKEYE!!!

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), mentions of a battle… lots of fluff and cute stuff if that’s a warning ;3]

Clint had been obsessed with you since he encountered you during one of the fights that took place in New York.

Saving you from getting hurt before dashing off further into the commotion leaving you while yelling back at you to run.

Once the dust had settled he only wished he had learned your name, the moment his blue eyes met yours he was already smitten.

The way you looked at him with such admiration and relief when he stopped your brutal untimely demise.

Dreaming about you that night wishing he knew how to draw so he could put your features down onto paper so he could always remember, though he doubted he could ever forget.

Sulking in his room for most of the day until he went to get something to eat and saw the others watching the news coverage from the event.

He swore his heart just about stopped dead in his chest when he saw the very scene he had dreamt about being broadcast on television, a helicopter catching the moment unknowingly.

Immediately asking Stark to run facial recognition on the footage to see if he could find you, and of course he was more than up for a challenge.

It took a couple of days with most of the cameras being down in the city, but as systems went back online it was easy to spot you and trace you.

Learning that you were staying in one of the temporary displaced shelters since your apartment building had been destroyed.

Meaning he was going to have to find you in a crowd of people all while trying not to attract attention.

Although who would really question an Avenger coming to volunteer to help people he reasoned with himself.

Funnily enough he didn’t have to look for you at all because you were in front of him nearly the moment that he entered the building.

A huge smile on your face as you rushed over to him, unable to believe your luck to get to encounter him two days in a row.

Not only that but he literally saved your life, he was a veritable knight in shining armor in your eyes.

Before all of that he was your favorite hero to begin with, and now it seemed the two of you had to be destined to meet.

Unable to contain the euphoria of the chance meeting, you immediately hugged him, thanking him for saving your life.

Not even thinking about how the action might be inappropriate to do towards an unsuspecting trained spy, hell to be honest your mind was clouded from the past 24 hours already.

Wrapping his arms around you accepting your embrace feeling his tense muscles relax as he apparently recognized you which you were very thankful for.

This was beyond anything he had ever expected and he couldn’t help but melt into your warm embrace welcoming the contact wholeheartedly.

Parting from each other he barely got a word or two out to tell you that he was just glad he was in the right place at the right time.

Trying to be humble while also soaking up every ounce of your praise as you tried to assure him that he did way more than that.

Explaining that he was your favorite hero, the very sentence knocking the wind out of him like he had been sucker-punched in the gut.

For once he was actually bashful, rubbing the back of his neck hoping that he wasn’t blushing too badly in front of you.

Immediately shaking off his trance outright asking if you would go to dinner with him, not wanting to waste a moment of this feeling.

When you accept in the same breath he can’t help but smile the widest he ever had before, holding his arm out for you to take.

The first steps towards the rest of your lives together, one he can tell is going to be oh so sweet.

[This was such an adorable idea! I hope that you enjoy it, and that it was close to what you had in mind! <3]

#yandere clint barton #yandere clint barton x reader #yandere hawkeye #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark clint barton #dark clint barton x reader

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 3 years ago

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Illuminations Part 2 (Conclusion)

I hope you... enjoy? The hanahaki is in bloom, friends.

First tag request, @cynic-spirit! Thanks! (If I did that incorrectly, I apologize - still figuring out the ins and outs of the tumblrverse.)

--------

She finds herself in the same room, across the same table, with the same tea sliding down her throat. He’s taken to finding her at night, when she thought herself safe and alone, only to pull her away from her work, forcing her to stay even longer in his company. On his island. In his employ.

And every night, the tea loosens her tongue, and she shares a little more. Across the table – a world away and yet too near – he drinks the same tea.

He knows a lot about art, and he brings their discussions back to it time and again. He wants her thoughts, her opinions, and if she didn’t have a very reasonable fear of a terrible death on a lonely shore, she could enjoy their talks. She never doubts his enthusiasm. Only his intent. She’s learning his expressions. Trapped in a room with so many reasons to pay attention, it’s hard not to.

Somehow he can ask any kind of question without lowering himself, even when he’s curious. The curiosity is simply opportunity in another guise, not a weakness, not a revelation of a deficit of knowledge.

His chilling elegance makes her wonder – from time to time – about old stories of wicked, fey things. Each word, so carefully delivered, provides a mirror surface of still water, hiding the raging current that waits to swallow her under. Break the veneer and drown. And, of course, she already knows the danger of entering into a contract with such a creature. Spirited away to his own world, removed from knights in shining armor and mortal laws, her humanity has become his possession. She is more book than person, something to read for information or distraction in the lonely hours.

“How would you describe what you do?” he asks one night. “If you could not call it art, or drawing, or illustration, is there a better word?”

The tea sits warm in her empty belly – another missed meal in the name of finishing her work – and she blames the smile trying to grow in response to his question on that. This could be a conversation she’d have with a friend. She’s enjoyed similar topics with dozens of fellow students, colleagues.

“Summing it up in one word kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not an answer.”

And he so clearly expects one. She settles back with her cup of sweetly bitter tea, frowning at the table as her thoughts trip back to art school and adolescent wonder. Before she learned theory and technique, she had to have the drive, and the key to his question lies somewhere in that miasma of untempered hopes and dreams. She saw something. She read something. She felt something.

“Illumination.”

He likes her answer, even though she hasn’t finished. Eyebrows raised, lips firm but not frowning – it’s the face he wears when he’s taking her seriously, when she’s least afraid he’s trying to bait her into saying the wrong thing.

“Technically, since I don’t paint with gold, it’s the wrong word, but I’ve always thought it’s the best description of what I try to do,” she says. Too honest, too open, too late. He doesn’t deserve the things she tells him. Whatever he may think, he hasn’t bought her in that way. So, why can’t she stop herself? “I saw a touring exhibit of the Book of Kells when I was little, and the word got stuck in my head. The art brought light to the words. It brings some kind of understanding, I think. Or it’s supposed to.”

“Is that why you work at night?” he asks. “Are you trying to bring light to my island?”

She hunches over her cup, murmuring against the rim as she mutters, “No.”

It’s his turn to smile, though it lacks the softness she felt in her own. He knows why she works through the night, and it is nothing so altruistic that fuels her.

The next day dawns unseasonably hot. It’s unusual for the region and the time of year, but summer demands its pound of flesh before surrendering to autumn, even if it’s late. In the garden, the sun beats down mercilessly, and gardeners spend the entire afternoon running to tend drooping plants with watering cans. Safin doesn’t appear even once, and she skips both lunch and dinner to take advantage of the daylight.

Even when the sun sets, the old building keeps the muggy heat locked in the living quarters. It’s too hot to sleep. Despite her productive day, habit and sweat-soaked sheets drive her to her work. She leaves the door open, hoping for a breath of air, and she abandons her button-up shirt. Hair in a sloppy bun, shoulders and back exposed in her simple camisole, she loses herself in translating the toxic paradise of the Safin family.

She’s spent so much time in the garden, she doesn’t have to be near the plants to smell them. They’ve perfumed her mind. It worries her, but she’s making progress. It isn’t forever. When she’s finished, he’ll have to let her go. His aren’t the only flowers in the world, and she aches for kinder subjects to fill her time and senses.

It takes longer than it should for her to notice his breathing. No footsteps. No words. Only breath out of sync with her own. She looks over her shoulder, alarmed but not surprised. He’s been hiding from the heat all day. It was too much to assume he’d hide through the night as well. The heat had clearly affected him. Sweat-drenched hair sticks to his face, more disheveled than she’s ever seen it, and his eyes glow with a fever bright intensity she’s only noted from a safe distance. But now they’re burning her. Though they take a moment to lift to her eyes.

She realizes what holds his attention.

Her camisole reveals the better part of her back piece, and her professional wear has always covered it completely. The tattoo took months to design, and it took her years to find the right artist – and the courage – to actually do it. It is orderly chaos expressed in rare flowers and half-curled ferns. Natural geometry, blending and beguiling. The illumination she is most proud of but least likely to show.

Another piece of herself she never meant to share.

His nostrils flare as he breathes, like he can smell the art on her skin the way she can still smell his garden. He stares, unblinking, and she holds the look for a full minute before she dares to break the connection and return to her work. His lingering gaze offers the chill she’s craved all day, and goosebumps rise along her neck and arms.

When he finally leaves, she knows more by the absence of his attention than the sound of his steps.

----------

He’s adding to the garden. She’s sure of it, because she received a list of species to cover when she first arrived, and she counted the items to get an idea of how long the project would take. Someone swaps the list out of the drawer in her desk when she sleeps. Whenever she’s nearly finished, she finds the list has grown longer, new plants sneaking between individuals she’s already illustrated – like weeds growing up through the cracks.

She can’t say anything about it, of course. She doesn’t want to die, and she fosters the dimming hope of seeing home again. Someday.

But the day they take her to the lab is the day she realizes she is never going home.

It has been a week since she coughed up the monkshood. A month since he stared at her from the doorway of her studio.

She follows her armed guard, eyes on his back, not roaming the new territory through which he leads her. The less she notices, the fewer reasons her employer has to extend her stay. However, the fact she knows there’s a line to cross, things she isn’t supposed to know, is already a mark against her. When the guard descends to the lower levels, she hesitates. But he only has to glance over his shoulder, hand resting casually on his gun, for her to scurry along.

He gestures for her to go through the glass door ahead of him. The guards probably have too much filth on their boots to tread lightly on polished ground. He looks impatient. She still hesitates in the doorway. A future lies on the other side she simply does not want. It begins with secrets and ends in oblivion, but all she came to do was draw flowers. The guard shoves her hard enough that she stumbles three steps forward, earning a few evil looks from the scientists who hate her and curious glances from the few who don’t.

One of the scientists steps forward and leads her to a microscope. They briefly describes the tiny things she’s meant to draw as her stomach turns hard and her aching throat tightens.

Photography would’ve done just as well, and she specializes in botanical illustration, so this is a long leap beyond her wheelhouse. Safin can’t really care about artistic renderings of his nano technology. All this exercise confirms is her fate.

It doesn’t matter what’s in her contract. It doesn’t matter if she ever finishes the list. She belongs to him until he decides otherwise, like an artist trapped in a feudal lord’s court. Somewhere in their discussions, she has let herself become a little too interesting, and now she’s trapped.

That evening, she coughs up hydrangea – heartlessness – and wonders what he does with the dead bodies of his victims.

This will kill her, she knows. Hanahaki doesn’t retreat in the face of common sense and logic. It is an illogical infection with only two cures. She doesn’t think a man like Safin can love. Even if he can, it would be a fearsome thing, she’s sure. She’s happy to accept her own explanations for her impending doom: she’s entirely at fault. Her heart broke from the realization that she fell quietly in love with an absolute monster. Worse still, a monster that stole her life and freedom for his own petty ends. She can’t live with herself after that kind of betrayal.

Her love is unrequited on both sides.

So, she says nothing, even as the symptoms become too intense to properly hide.

There’s no point being careful. She flounders to the realization one night as she coughs up anemones into the toilet. A few drops of blood fly out with the petals, and the crimson drops unfurl like silk ribbons in the water. Beauty and filth. The heart of her disease.

The thing growing inside – even if it is love – is rotten. Parasitic, it could only be beautiful removed from all context and circumstance.

So, assured of her death, she tries to force it out on paper. Purge it. But true to her words, she only illuminates the subject of her thoughts. Of her horror and fascination.

He’s beautiful in her sketches. Deadly smiles hint at concealed passion and naked brutality as he stands among his flowers, eyes cold but satisfied. She draws him with the shadows. In the light. In the meeting times of dawn and dusk when he should look softer – but he never does.

She can’t work at night any more, too weak to leave her bed for more than the requisite hours of daylight. Maybe he wanders by the closed door of her studio, looking for a crack of light, but she isn’t there to invite for tea. She can’t avoid him if he wants to find her, but he seems to have heard she’s sick, and maybe he’s leaving her space to recover. Or he’s afraid of catching whatever she’s contracted.

He must have noticed when the cough started. Had he tried to cure it with his tea? Or had he ever even dreamed of using his plants to prolong a life rather than end it?

She spirals quickly. Once she’s noticed what’s happening, her symptoms accelerate, like her attention is sunlight for the flowers clawing through her lungs. People notice. Servants give her long, frightened looks, and the scientists all frown and hold their sleeves over their faces. But no one dares to do anything about her without their master’s permission. The artist is under the lord’s authority, and he has given no order.

No one quite realizes what’s wrong until she collapses, though. An enormous peony chokes her, and she drops in the hall as Safin’s lead scientist gawps at her twitching body. Her eyes roll back in her head, and for a blissful, awful moment, she thinks she’s finally dying. Not by inches. All at once.

Fingers dig in her mouth, and Russian curses rain down as the bespectacled man finds the edge of the flower and tears it out. She coughs her way back to life, spattered in her own blood and saliva, as the scientist stares at her shame in his hands.

“Hanahaki?” he asks.

She can’t answer – can still barely breathe – but her mournful wheeze tells the doctor all he needs to know. He’s an expert, one of the most knowledgeable of human anatomy in the entire world, and he couldn’t mistake this diagnosis if he tried.

“Who? Who do you need?”

It’s not his business at all, and she prefers to close her eyes than deal with his meddling. What does he think he’ll accomplish?

“Your talent must be unusual for Mr. Safin to hire you,” he insists. “If you are still here, he still has use for you. This is no good.”

Of course the loyal hound wants to preserve his master’s tools. There are no real people on the island, she decides, flirting with the edge of consciousness. All monsters. Even she must be a monster, to have fallen so easily for the worst of them.

She drifts for a while. More or less aware of what happens around her as guards hoist her up and drag her to bed, as they comb through her belongings, gather her work. Are they trying to find the one she’s dying over? Do they have orders now?

She is only dying because she should. She can’t live with such a love. She can’t breathe.

The rest, even as her energy drains in wet coughs that threaten to tear her apart, feels nice. She’s worked so hard. She’s fulfilled her contract twice over, and she’s ready to just stop and sleep.

She was never going to return home.

The next time she’s awake and aware enough to open her eyes and understand what she sees, she’s in a much larger bed than her bunk in the employee dorm. Safin sits beside her, stiff and stern, a new expression in his eyes she doesn’t know what to call.

He’s holding her sketches. Studies of his own eyes peer up at him. His fingers brush over illustrations of his restless hands. In lieu of conversations over tea, he’s found a way to understand her, once again, without consent.

Cold eyes find hers. Hold her. Demanding something. But if it’s a question, she had no answers left. He’s taken everything she can give him and a few things she can’t. It doesn’t seem like it’s enough, though.

He takes a deep breath, drawing himself even straighter.

“I am illuminated.”

He sets the papers aside, as gently as his delicate porcelain tea service, and leans near. Cautious fingers explore the skin that’s still cold from his long look on a humid evening many days before. He strokes her cheek, and a crooked little smile staggers across his face.

Closer.

His lips brush and press over hers. They’re softer than they have a right to be. Another sinful secret of the damned morning star. With his hand still holding her face, he pulls back to search her eyes. Looking for a miracle. Expecting a cure.

And she knows the word for that veiled expression.

Fear.

She wishes she could still laugh. She can barely cry. He really thought he could save her.

Too late. Or not enough.

Cyclamen blossoms tumble from her lips, and even as he shouts, clawing them from her mouth, she’s already on her way.

---------

Lyutsifer Safin has a beautiful garden. The most wonderful flowers bloom there, and even if they can do terrible things to a man, they’re still lovely. This is the center of his world, and all the things he loves most grow between the gravel paths.

A collection of monkshood, cyclamen, anemones, and hydrangea fill the plot closest to his bedroom. He wakes smelling them and watches the colors glow in the last light of day before he retires. He has forbidden his gardeners from cutting the blooms, from harvesting the rich poisons they offer. He killed without meaning to, and he will let his artist grow in peace.

He will keep her near, and admire the evidence of her empathy. She sleeps under the soil, and her flowers are even prettier than her paintings.

The loveliest in his garden.

#lyutsifer safin #safin #team safin #safin sunday #safin x reader #fan fiction #fan fic #no time to die #third person

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nakachuchu · 4 years ago

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Blue Popsicle | Okkotsu Yuuta + Orimoto Rika

second part here

SYNOPSIS: You met them on a hot summer day.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 1075

WRITTEN: 03/31/2021

NOTES: Timing is most likely off near the end, but ignore it for the sake of angst

You were a happy child. Your childhood was full of smiles and running around the playground with your best friends, Rika and Yuuta.

Those two were always closer to each other than you were with either of them, but with a trio, it made sense.

You didn't mind. As long as they hung out with you and played pirates and princess with you, you were happy.

The happiness didn't last long, and whenever you looked back on it, it made sense.

Clothes wore out eventually and had to be replaced, so the same could be said about memories.

To be fair, you weren't really part of Yuuta's and Rika's lives. You simply tagged along because you were lonely.

You were raised by a single mother who claimed that your father was a bad man, and you didn't understand why he was so bad until you grew up.

With your mother constantly working, you were often left alone. So when you met Yuuta and Rika on a hot summer day where this blue popsicle was melting and sliding down your hand, you attached yourself to them.

Rika would be the Princess in distress, Yuuta would be the knight in shining armor, and you'd be the pirate with a wooden sword.

You didn't care that Yuuta would quite literally have to beat you to save Rika from your evil clutches.

You didn't care that Rika and Yuuta held hands wherever they went, and you would walk behind them in their shadows while holding a stick with a bug on it.

You didn't care that Rika and Yuuta promised to marry each other in the future. All you asked was that you would be invited to their wedding.

Rika died after leaving the park that day. You were with Yuuta because the two of you lived in the same direction.

Yuuta wasn't the same after that, and it would be a lie to say that you were different. You really weren't because you weren't that close to Rika.

You liked her and she liked you. You were lonely so you liked anyone who spent time with you.

But Yuuta loved her. You knew that. He cried for days, cursing her for leaving him, even though you were there for him the whole time.

Eventually, your mother got a better job and moved away from the area, thus you cut off ties with Yuuta.

At the time, Yuuta had already begun ignoring you and the two of you slowly drifted apart. You didn't know why, but you didn't bother to chase after him and ask.

Something changed, and you didn't realize what it was until you saw a strange man sitting on your living room couch one day.

The man in your living room introduced himself as Gakuganji Yoshinobu.

You didn't know who he was, but your mother seemed to have an idea. The whole time she was preparing tea, her hands shook.

"I never wanted this for you," she said.

Her voice was shaky, but it wasn't angry. She was sad, you noticed.

"You'll be attending Jujutsu Tech in Kyoto," he said. "We'll teach you how to control your ability."

You didn't understand what he meant, but you went with him. You got a customized uniform and you learned about the world of curses and sorcerers.

You learned your father was a sorcerer, and when your mother said he was a bad man, she just meant that he was a liar.

He didn't tell her about his world until she was pregnant, and at the time, she was already in love with you and didn't want to abort you.

You didn't understand your ability yourself. If anyone asked about the technicality of it, you'd just stand there and smile.

Gakuganji told you your father had that ability and you inherited from him; the ability to draw forces from the earth.

At that point in time, you forgot about Yuuta. You were completely focused on creating stone wall barriers and combative boulders.

You never expected to see Yuuta at the first exchange event. He looked the same to you, but afraid and quiet.

He noticed you, and his eyes lit in something that was recognition and relief. But your eyes widened slightly when a curse appeared in front of you.

You barely had enough time to create a wall around you before claws dug into the concrete wall.

It spoke to you in a slurred and slow voice.

"You—"

"Rika, come back!"

You learned the curse was Rika and that he had a hard time controlling her. The wall around you crumbled, returning to the earth.

Your eyes glanced toward his left hand and you definitely didn't care that Yuuta continued to wear the ring Rika gave him even after her death.

You stood across from him with your classmates. The rivalry between your schools was made clear, and you could care less about Yuuta.

You didn't need friends. Your life was full of silence, so you were used to it. Your classmates didn't talk to each other unless needed, and it hurt you a bit when you noticed how friendly and outgoing Yuuta's classmates were.

Well, that life wasn't meant for you anyway. Even if you had gone to Tokyo, they wouldn't have liked you—just like Rika and Yuuta when the three of you were younger.

You were never part of their lives anyway. You learned that at a young age, but it was made more clear to you as you laid there on the ground, bloodied and tired.

You didn't know why Rika hated you so much. She seemed to like Maki more, and she was more of a stranger than you.

If you had known Rika would have attacked you so easily for simply walking past Yuuta, you would have stayed in the trees with Noritoshi.

She didn't seem to care that Yuuta was crying, completely worried about your injuries. You didn't care either, and the only tears on your face were his.

You didn't understand why he was crying. The two of you were never close anyway.

Luckily, Ieiri healed you in time. You were left bedridden for only a few days and during those few days, his classmates arrived to give you something from him.

It was the same blue popsicle you were eating on the day you first met him and a blue ring pop with a note that said "Wait for me."

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #Okkotsu yuuta x reader #headcanon #imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader

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brighteststar707 · 3 years ago

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Wordless ways to say "I love you" - Zen

#3: Traveling long distances just to see them

💫

There’s nobody but the four walls of your apartment to hear your resigned sigh as arrive home. Another day of returning to an empty apartment with nothing to look forward to but a stack of scripts and an empty bed. Zen has been abroad for two weeks, working on a movie. It’s the biggest production he’s been involved in since the Echo Girl incident, and even he couldn’t deny how good the opportunity was for him.

You’ve haven’t been apart for this long since the beginning of your relationship. Forever your knight in shining armor, he hates the idea of not being able to be near you in case you need him.

You had urged him to take the role, with the assurance that with both your schedules being so full, time would fly. You phoned each other every morning and night, he sent you selfies of him in costume, him in bed, him in rehearsals. He had the power to command a stage and keep the attention of a full audience, and you found that he carried some of that energy with him off stage too. Without him there, the basement apartment felt too big, too empty.

You would have gone with him had you not been tied down with work of your own. With his popularity exploding, new offers of roles were flooding in. You were still adjusting to your new role as manager and didn’t want to let him down when he needed you most.

The first week, you tried to keep yourself busy. You met up with Jaehee for lunch. You hung out with Yoosung, had him teach you a new recipe he learned. By the second week, you had resorted to playing old recordings of his singing, just to fill the room with the sound of his voice.

At the start of the third week, just as you're drifting off to the sound of his voice through the phone, the idea to surprise him with a visit forms. It takes some convincing to postpone tomorrow's meeting but before long, you've freed a few days for yourself.

That’s how you find yourself on set the next day, convincing security that you're not a fan trying to break in. By the time you’re granted permission to enter, it’s only a few minutes before everyone breaks for dinner. You make your way over to where they’re shooting a scene and make sure to keep out of sight. The last thing you want is to interrupt. You love watching your boyfriend in his element.

After they finish the scene, you watch him discuss something with his scene partner before turning towards craft services. Now that the scene is done, he looks somehow deflated, preoccupied. All the energy he had just embodied while portraying his character has left him.

You wait for him to see you, wanting to catch him by surprise. It takes all your willpower to not throw yourself at him. When his eyes meet yours, he stops in his tracks, as if unsure of what he’s seeing.

“Zen?” You call, taking a step towards him.

“Angel? You’re… here?”

“I am… I wanted to see you.”

His face breaks into a wide smile and he takes a few long strides towards you. With one swift movement he wraps you up in a hug that sweeps you off your feet.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.” His voice is soft, for you only.

“I missed you too, Hyun.”

“I can’t believe you travelled all this way by yourself to see me.” He kisses you hard, as if trying to make up for all the days you spent apart.

You suddenly become aware of how much attention you’re drawing to yourselves. The reprimands about keeping PDA to a minimum echo through your head.

“Zen, I think we’re causing a bit of a scene. Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private? Then we can talk properly.”

With a small huff, he puts you down. He takes you by the hand and leads you to his trailer. You know how he hates having to tone down his feelings for you in public. Once in the privacy of his trailer, he pulls you into his lap and nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Tell me about your trip, angel. I want to hear every detail.”

And so you do, revelling in his undivided attention. You sit wrapped in each other like that till you’re disturbed by a knock on his trailer door, signalling the end of break.

“I need to get back to work… Will you watch me, Princess? I want to hear what you think of the approach I’m taking for this character.”

“Of course, I’d love to. Lead the way, my love.”

💫

Prompt list

#this one ended up a bit longer than i expected #VD prompts #mystic messenger #zen #mysme zen #hyun ryu #cheritz #my writing

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ibis-gt · 3 years ago

Text

chapter one of mercenary au! there may be more if i can dig uo the proper motivation... anyway here u go. requisite meetcute, 3k words, content warning for mentions of past family member death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Light shone through the bedroom window of one Luther Algers. The beam moved steadily, achingly slow, as the sun rose in the sky, until it finally reached the perfect angle to shine on his face and, when the sensation made him blink awake, directly in his eyes.

He groaned and rolled over, rubbing at his face with the heel of one hand. He would’ve tried to fall back asleep, but his thoughts caught up to him too quickly.

Today. He knew what today was. Today, he set off for Pentel. Today he gave up his freedom for the good of his kingdom.

Okay, so maybe that was a little dramatic. It sounded like he was going off to war or something. In truth, he was going to get married. It would be a lovely ceremony, lots of people in attendance, a splendid banquet, good feelings all around.

It just would’ve been nice if someone had asked him if he wanted to be married. Or told him who he was marrying.

But that wasn’t how this worked. It was an arranged marriage, one meant to strengthen the peace treaty between Pentel and Contigo. Traditionally the marriage should have been between princes or princesses of both kingdoms, but since Contigo’s king was childless, Luther had been chosen to seal the deal. Luther’s father was a high-ranking noble with a fair amount of money and influence, and he owed the king a favor. He seemed an obvious choice.

Well, no point in putting it off any longer. It would be about two weeks’ journey to the city of Pentel and once he arrived there were still details about the wedding to hammer out and his fiancee to meet. He rolled out of bed and dressed in the outfit that had been laid out for him last night. All lace and ruffles, with a runed belt, the symbols for first encounters and strong bonds etched across it. His job from here on out was to look pretty and smile on command. Like some kind of trained dog.

Before he had time to really properly wallow in his discontent, his father’s voice rang out from the foyer.

“Luther! It’s time! Don’t be late!”

“Coming!” Luther called, skipping out of his room and descending the stairs as quickly as he could. He caught sight of his father just as he exited the front door to their palatial estate. Luther took a moment to catch his breath and make sure his clothes and hair were in order before he followed, stepping out into the daylight. Outside, a line of splendid carriages sat, with people milling about between them. A trip like this was expensive, even beyond his father’s means, but since it was a matter of national importance the king was footing the bill. Servants flitted to and fro with last minute additions to the carriage train’s luggage, attended the important guests who would be traveling with Luther, and were generally busy as bees. Everyone was decked out in their finest finery, which seemed odd to Luther. Shouldn’t they save it for the last day of travel, when they’d actually arrive? But he supposed that they’d be stopping along the way for food and rest, and they’d need to look their best.

“You could’ve had breakfast if you’d been up earlier,” his father grumbled in lieu of a ‘good morning’, “but as it is either you can wait until lunch or see if there’s anything they can dig out of the provisions for the road. Now, your carriage is the one in the middle of the group. You’ll be in with two diplomats and a manners coach. They’ll teach you how to act and speak to Pentel’s royalty, topics to avoid, so on and so forth. There’s a historian in the carriage behind you, try to meet with them at meals and - are you listening to me?”

Luther was not listening. He was staring wide-eyed at a figure standing near his carriage. The man was dressed in armor, with strong boiled leather covering his chest and stomach. Metal pauldrons, gauntlets, and shin guards, slightly tarnished from time and use, glinted dully in the light. An oversized hammer hung from his belt. A few strands of black hair had come free from his long ponytail, and a scraggly beard clung to his chin. Probably the most interesting thing about the man, though, was that he looked to be about twenty feet tall. He could’ve picked up Luther’s carriage under one arm and walked off with it. He was watching the pair of them intently, ignoring the people bustling around between the carriages with packages and bundles for the road. Luther tried to drag his attention back towards his father. He could’ve sworn he saw someone actually walk between the man’s legs out of the corner of his eye.

It was rude to point, and probably unnecessary, so Luther said as delicately as possible, “Who’s that, uh… rather tall man?”

“Ah. Your bodyguard.” Luther’s father turned and waved at the giant.

“My - ?” Luther started to say, but lapsed into awed silence as his new bodyguard walked over to them. The ground practically shook under the weight of the man’s footsteps. He blocked out the sun as he stood before the two of them, and Luther suppressed a shiver that was half from the chill of the shade and half from the sheer size of the man. He was even more intimidating up close than he’d been at a distance. Luther felt practically pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. Luther’s father continued speaking as though there weren’t a colossus standing mere feet away.

“As you know, your safety is my top priority,” he said, turning back to face Luther. “I’ve hired this mercenary to protect you on the journey.”

“I… see,” Luther said, glancing nervously up at the giant. “And… what is your name?” He raised his voice a little just in case the man had trouble hearing him.

“You can call me Cam, sir,” the giant replied. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth before his face resumed the professional mask. His voice was gravelly and incredibly deep. Luther felt it vibrate in his chest.

Luther’s father glared at his son. Luther knew he didn’t really approve of fraternizing with those of a lower station, but it would have been so rude to just continue talking as though Cam weren’t there. Besides, that was such a stupid prejudice. But he didn’t dare disobey his father any further, so he did his best to listen as his father ran down a litany of instructions to ensure the journey was as productive and successful as possible. Largely it boiled down to Luther learning a lot of very boring things very quickly so he could present himself as the best Contigo had to offer.

Finally, his father put his hands on Luther’s shoulders and gave him the closest thing to a smile he could manage.

“You’re doing a good thing, son,” he said. “Good for both our kingdoms. You’ll be perfect. And you’ll be very safe.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Luther. Since Luther’s mother had died in childbirth, his father had been very protective. Overly so. To the extent that it bordered on paranoia. It didn’t help that an assassination attempt had been made on his father’s life after his involvement with an unpopular ruling about taxes that shifted the burden to the mercantile sector. His father had been convinced from that day on that home was the only safe place for him and his son. Luther hadn’t been allowed out unless accompanied by at least three handpicked guards, all of whom were serious buzzkills and never let him do anything fun.

That was probably why his father had gone so overboard with his protection on this trip, Luther supposed. Anyone wanting to cause trouble would hopefully be scared off by just the sight of the giant bodyguard walking alongside the carriage train.

He snuck a glance at the giant again. Cam was still standing right next to them, keeping them in his shadow, but was now looking out at the horizon as though scanning for threats. He was probably just as bored as Luther was, having to listen to his father prattle on. The thought was oddly hilarious, and Luther bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling as he met his father’s eyes.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Luther said. “I’ll be sure to write to you often.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Luther.” His father said the words as though he wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. He brought his son into an awkward, hesitant embrace, and quickly let go again. He’d never been good at showing affection, not through words or actions. Truth be told, Luther would’ve been jumping for joy at the chance to get away from home and his controlling father, if it weren’t for the fact that he was just going to end up in a no doubt equally controlling situation. “You go on ahead. I’ve got a few things to clear up with your bodyguard here.” Luther saw the small grimace that Cam attempted to hide and smiled to himself. He seemed like he’d be good company, at least.

As he set off towards the carriage that would be both his salvation and his prison for the next two weeks, he caught only a few words of the fairly one-sided conversation his father had with the giant. It sounded mostly like strict instructions not to talk to Luther except in times of extreme emergency, and a few other nitpicky details he didn’t quite hear. There was a rumbling, “Yes, sir,” from Cam, and then the giant’s thundering footsteps, drawing nearer. Luther’s heart beat faster as Cam approached. His stomach started to knot in anxiety. He knew the giant had been hired for his protection, but having such a large being walking so close behind him hit his fight or flight reflexes, and he’d never been much of a fighter. Luther forced himself not to look over his shoulder. He climbed into the carriage and settled himself on the cushioned seat, then finally shot a sideways glance out of the window. Cam had resumed his post in front of the carriage and all he could see from inside was a section of the giant’s leg.

Luther’s heart sank as he stared glumly at the ceiling of the carriage. The most interesting person on this journey, no doubt, and he was under orders not to say a word to him. He hoped he could break down the giant’s walls eventually. No doubt he had countless exciting tales of action and danger that would be loads more entertaining than listening to dry old historians and prim diplomats lecture him about how to hold a fork.

~~~

They had been on the road for only a few hours, but it had dragged like an eternity as the diplomats prattled away. Luther could barely hold any of it in his head. His eyelids drooped, he swallowed yawn after yawn, and he had to consciously stop bouncing his leg every five minutes. They’d finally decided that was enough for now, clearly dissatisfied with how poorly he was paying attention. Luther stared out the carriage window. He would’ve had an excellent view of the rolling green hills in the distance if it weren’t for Cam.

The giant was trudging along beside the carriage, easily matching the pace of the horses with a measured stride, and mostly blocking Luther’s line of sight to anything else. Luther realized Cam was going to have to walk the whole way, basically alone, since everyone in the carriage train seemed afraid of him and avoided him whenever possible. That was almost worse than having your ear talked off by stuffy old men telling you how to act. Luther knew Cam was under orders not to talk to him, but how was Luther’s father going to find out, anyway? He reached up and swung the window open, leaning his head out to call up to the giant.

The motion of the window opening caught Cam’s eye, and he glanced down just in time to see Luther’s curly-haired head poke out. Whatever the kid was saying was lost in the rumble of the cart wheels and the thunder of the horses’ hooves. It must’ve been important, though. The kid’s father had been very clear that he was engaging in extremely important business and should not be bothered or distracted by Cam. He could practically still hear the man’s thin, unpleasant voice. “Only in the utmost emergency should any communication pass between the two of you.” Well, this looked like an emergency, if he was interrupting his business, and how was the guy going to find out, anyway?

“Can’t quite hear you, sir,” Cam said. “Maybe we could talk when the carriage pulls to a stop at the next town?”

Oh, god no, I can’t wait that long, Luther thought. In fifteen minutes these old fogeys were going to try to start lesson number two. He leaned a little further out and on an impulse yelled, “Pick me up!”

Cam caught that one loud and clear, although for a moment he thought he must have misheard. But there wasn’t much else that could have been. He shrugged and said, “Open the door, then.”

Luther couldn’t believe that worked. He’d half expected the giant to laugh or shake his head. The diplomats stared at him open-mouthed.

“S-sir, I don’t think you should - ” One of them began nervously, but that only strengthened his resolve. He unlatched the door and swung it open with a confidence that completely crumbled as Cam’s huge hand reached in and grabbed him around the middle. It was a delicate maneuver since the carriage was still rolling, but Cam managed it deftly, lifting Luther up and setting him on one shoulder, then laying a hand across his lap to keep him in place. He'd had to crouch to reach into the carriage and Luther felt his stomach drop as Cam straightened up. The ground fell away at an alarming speed, and then he was swaying gently back and forth with Cam's stride, hair blowing in the breeze.

"So, what were you going to say?" Cam asked.

"Uh, um, I, uh.... Hi?" Luther squeaked.

Cam's eyebrows knit in confusion. 'Hi?' Did the guy just want to say 'hi'? Really?

"Hello," he replied.

Luther was silent, fidgeting for a moment. He'd lost his nerve completely. He was up so high and so intimately close to Cam's face. He couldn't even find his voice enough to ask to be set back down.

Oh my god, Cam thought, that was really it. Well, that was embarrassing. Didn't really need to go to all that trouble. But the guy seemed content to sit there for now. He decided to try some small talk.

"Enjoying the journey so far? It must be pretty stuffy in that little carriage. Good to get out and get yourself some fresh air."

"O-oh, um, yes. Quite stuffy. The air is, uh. Nice." Luther could smell Cam very distinctly. Sweat, salt, steel, and leather. An earthy combination, but not entirely unpleasant. It was so different from what he was used to, and honestly a welcome change. It was a lovely day, a little on the chilly side, but Cam's hand on his lap kept him quite warm. Even the cold steel pauldron below him was heating up pretty quickly. "I’ve, uh, never met a giant before."

Oh, there it is. He'll have all kinds of invasive questions, no doubt. Cam suppressed a little sigh. "Honored to be your first, then." Technically not exactly true. Cam was only half-giant. But to sheltered nobles who didn’t know better it didn’t matter.

But there was no follow-up. Possibly Luther caught the tired edge to Cam's voice and wisely decided to drop that line of discussion. The silence that followed wasn't as awkward as Cam thought it would be. The little noble smelled faintly floral and citrus-y. The scent was light, not at all cloying like some other rich folk's perfume. Cam found that he kind of liked having him on his shoulder, actually. It made him feel like a protector, as opposed to before when he felt like he was just tagging along uninvited.

Luther was glad that Cam had his eyes fixed ahead on the road, because he was blushing so hard his face must have been lobster red. The giant was unexpectedly gentle. He'd half expected to be accidentally crushed in Cam's grip at first, but Cam had much more control than that. The hand across his lap was a firm, comforting pressure, and he was grateful for it. His own hands had been held tight to his chest, but as he relaxed he lowered them slightly. He hesitated, then rested them on the side of Cam's hand, anxiously glancing at Cam's face as he did so. No reaction. His hunched shoulders slumped, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

Now that Luther felt more comfortable, he could enjoy the sensation of being carried. It was quite the way to travel. He looked out across the fields and watched a pair of birds in flight. The advantage of Cam’s height allowed him to see so much farther than usual.

Cam snuck a sideways glance at Luther. He had his head turned slightly away staring out at the horizon and seemed much more relaxed with a slight smile on his face. Cam suppressed a smile of his own. The little noble was pretty cute, he had to admit. His carefully-arranged brown curls had gotten mussed and out of place when Cam picked him up, and they now fell much more naturally around his face, framing it nicely. He could just about make out constellations of freckles across his delicate face, and warm, curious brown eyes that tracked an arc across the sky. An expression of wonder and amusement perched lightly on Luther's face.

Cam realized he'd been staring at Luther too long just as Luther looked back in his direction. Cam yanked his eyes away and focused on the road again, desperately keeping up the blankest poker face he could manage. He realized he was nearly about to walk right over the carriages and course-corrected as subtly as he could, cursing himself for getting distracted. This was just another pretty noble he had to protect and he couldn't afford to mess this job up. The payout would be huge, along with bi-weekly payments as long as he hung around after the wedding. Nearly a real steady job. He heard Luther stifle a giggle on his shoulder and his brow furrowed, his neutral expression drawing down into a frown. He hadn't been nearly as subtle as he'd hoped, then.

Blessedly for Cam, Luther's carriage door swung tentatively open again, and one of the diplomats poked his head out.

"It's, ah, time for the next lesson," he called over the clatter of the horses' hooves. "If we could have the young gentleman back, please…?"

Cam nodded his agreement and shifted his grip on Luther, leaning down again to place him back in the carriage. "Watch yer head," he muttered, and Luther ducked inside, giving Cam a wistful glance over his shoulder.

There. With any luck, those would be the last words they ever spoke to each other.

#writing #cam and luther #mercenary au #g/t #giant tiny #mostly exposition but also some interaction in there that i rly like :3

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cmcameron · 3 years ago

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Favorite Webtoons that isn't Batman?

OOOOOOOOH! This one's a good one. XD Here's a list:

Morgana and Oz

"What happens when a struggling witch meets an angsty vampire? Either love or war. Morgana belongs to a long line of witches, and Oz to the rival vampire clan. After a chance encounter… and maybe a few stray spells… these two need to find a way to work together, or risk all-out war between coven and clan."

I love this comic, it's so cute. Colors are a 10/10 (you'll see a trend about me talking about colors).

Of Swamp and Sea

"When a monster hunt gone wrong sets two strangers on the same path, they discover their relationship may be more than strictly professional. Enter a world of dangerous beasts, dark magic, and perilous circumstance. When everyone has their secrets, the truth is as murky as the waters of the deepest swamp."

Love this comic's art style. A lot of the time Webtoons Creators use 3D backgrounds (which is 100% understandable, making webtoons are tough and anything you can do to make things go by faster I stand behind), but these mad lads are still drawing everything by hand. Colors are a 10/10

Eaternal Nocturnal

"The man of her dreams does exist… too bad she can’t fall asleep. When Eve is visited one night by a mysterious apparition, she finds that her chronic insomnia is miraculously cured. Meanwhile Dae, the dream eater, finds himself unexpectedly and unwillingly drawn to Eve. This can either be a dream come true or their worst nightmare."

Love the concept and how things are progressing so far!

Siren's Lament is also fantastic btw.

Lore Olympus

I'm currently fast passing these Episodes because I'm so desperate for content.

Suitor Armor

"Lady-in-waiting, Lucia believes getting through the royal wedding will be the toughest part of her new life. That is until she finds herself falling head over heels with Modeus, an up-and-coming knight to the king's guard. With her newfound interest, she is quickly awakened to the mysteries of the kingdom when she learns Modeus is in fact an enchanted suit of armor without a soul. Could there be more to him than just shining armor?"

God I remember Purpah doing a bunch of MSA stuff back in, 2012/2013 and I LOVED her color choices. I remember when she posted the first art piece with Modeus and thinking 'I reeeaallly want this to be a comic SO BAD' AND NOW WE HAVE IT AND IT'S A 10/10. Highly recommend.

Castle Swimmer

"What happens when your entire life is ruled by a prophecy – your future foretold by people you’ve never met, who died long before you were born. Such is the story of two young sea creatures. One believed to be a guiding light for his people, a Beacon who will lead them to a bright, prosperous future. The other is a teenage prince for who’s destiny is to KILL the Beacon so that HIS own people might thrive. When both reject the course set for them, it leads to a raucous adventure as big and unpredictable as the ocean itself – and a romance that nobody could have predicted."

I love the colors and backgrounds for this comic omg. YES.

Love Advice from the Great Duke of Hell

"The girl of your dreams barely knows you exist. Your friends can’t help. Your family is clueless. So where do you turn for love advice? Who can provide you with that essential assistance for the lovelorn? If you’re average everyday teenager Paul, you summon a powerful demon from deep in the recesses of Hell and frankly, hope for the best."

This comic cracks me up omg.

Arial Magic (Completed)

"The daily life of an apprentice witch."

I love the colors for this comic SO MUCH LOOK AT THE CLOUDS!!!! I hardly remember the plot (it's been awhile), but oh boy do I remember the colors.

Sithrah (Completed)

"Nirvana Page wanted to see the world. Traveling by private seaplane with her father on their annual vacation, together they explore exotic places and discover remarkable wildlife, and even if it’s only for a few days, she gets everything a seven-year-old girl could hope for. That is, until a mysterious force crashes their plane, separating Nirvana from her dad, and stranding her in a strange and unfamiliar land. It’s there she encounters SITHRAH—a mysterious being who could hold the key to finding her father—and begins a grand and perilous adventure that will bring her to the end of the world and beyond!"

Jason Brubaker does a lot of cool stuff, and I love his colors. Plus I love that he makes his Webtoon comic as a traditional comic first, then broke apart the pages to fit the scroll format. It makes it so that you can have a printed comic AND a webtoon.

Aka I love owning physical comics and I hope more Webtoon originals can be printed. Not just Lore Olympus.

Erma

"Erma is like any other normal child. She goes to school, plays with friends, and even spends time with the family. It just so happens that she is the daughter of a ghostly spirit and tends to use her haunting abilities for everyday antics, whether for better or for worse."

This comic has BONE vibes and I love it so much. I seriously think there should be more black/white wecomics. Not just because manga, no, it makes the process quicker and it makes printing comics SO MUCH EASIER. I love colors, but color correcting for print is a PROCESS.

Novae

"Raziol is an astronomer with a romantic heart. Sulvain is a kind-hearted necromancer with a troubled past. A strong connection forms between them as they discover the cosmos together, and their relationship blooms. But trouble lurks in the streets of Paris. When the body of a fellow astronomer is found on the steps of the Academy of Sciences, signs point to dark magic and Raziol and Sulvain’s lives become entangled in ways they could never foresee. LGBT+ M/M"

The... The colors are so good. ;w;

Fins & Crinolines

"When a mermaid and a centaur accidentally cross paths and decide to travel together, they end up on a journey that leads to more than either of them ever expected!"

Not a lot of episodes and episodes only come out sporadically (I can 100% understand, making Webtoons is not easy. Especially when it's a hobby/side project). But I LOVE THIS SO MUCH.

Punderworld

Another Hades/Persephone retelling and I AM ALL ABOUT IT. Solid comic.

#batman qa #batman questions #qa #questions #asks

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

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more of the mutually assured destruction duo, post-prison this time! this one was really fun, thinking about what this dynamic might be like in the future gives me SO much brainrot, im so excited. this one’s also a little dark, so make sure to read the warnings + tags !! :D

tw: implied prison abuse, starvation, toxic relationship, touch starvation, manipulation, panic attack, trauma, blood, injury

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison.

And it's ironic, because Wilbur hasn't even been around, has been in hell for fuck's sake playing Competitive Solitaire for nine-odd years, but even he could've seen the self-destruction hanging like a cloud around the other's head from a million miles (and several months? years?) away. Perhaps, he thinks wryly, you can only see the signs when you've lived them, or maybe red flags don't raise alarm when you’ve painted the entire figure in blood, but it doesn't really matter, in the end, because the final result is the same.

Still, it's just a little funny when he's stopped in the middle of his journey through the Nether, not a piece of armor on him per usual and an unused netherite sword slung over his hip.

"Hello, Sapnap." The kid is standing in front of him, eyes gleaming in badly-hidden anger and desperation, smoke rising from the mottled red-black skin on his hands. "Fancy seeing you around."

"You-" Sapnap sputters, unable to speak as his face flushes red in frustration, and Wilbur smiles at him condescendingly. The expression on the other's face is one he's seen before - one Tommy had been particularly inclined to give him in the past, when his emotions raged so heavily that there was nothing for the pressure to do but build, too thick and heavy to force themselves out of his throat. "You're monsters," Sapnap manages, finally, and Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.

At least we're self-aware, he thinks, the all-too-familiar twinge of irritation at Tommy's - and apparently, Sapnap's particular brand of reckless naivety pulsing at the base of his skull. He lets none of these thoughts show on his face as he cocks his head to the side, smiles wider - and Sapnap, just like Tommy, takes the bait.

'Why are you smiling?" He looks achingly young - they all do, really, their expressions and reactions dripping with a sort of innocence and sincerity that dissolved from Wilbur's own face somewhere around the fifteen-hundreth game of poker, and it really does feel ironic, how quickly the outside world can fall apart compared to the unending constancy of the void - but he digresses.

He didn't know Sapnap well before his whole death thing, and as much as he wants to use his partner to get information on the other members of the server, he doesn't really think Dream is really even lucid enough for that - the man clearly hasn't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. It doesn't matter, though, because you learn to read people when your life becomes nothing but running the same broken-edged memories over and over again in your mind and smiling jaggedly over the same few card games - Wilbur had always been a people watcher, and Sapnap's feelings are stamped on every corner of his face.

"Monster, huh," he says, saying the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he's tasting it for the first time, watching from the corner of his eye as Sapnap squirms, "Interesting word you've got here. You use it often?"

Sapnap bristles, smoke curling from his nostrils - "It's what you are, dickhead."

Rolling his eyes internally, Wilbur keeps up the act, humming as he fiddles idly with his cufflink. "I mean, if you really believe that," he rocks forward on his right foot, stifling a smile at the way the younger draws back, "But really, it's all a matter of perspective." He twists himself around, pivoting around his heel, beginning to walk in an arc around Sapnap's left side, watching as he spins around, shoulders drawn up to his ears. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're full of shit," he says, voice flat, and Wilbur laughs. It's genuine, really, because well - Sapnap's different. He's fun; the entire server is, after so long in the void. You can only spend so much time with the same two people before they drive you a little up the metaphorical wall, but Sapnap's reactions are fresh and new and different, still saturated with vitality that hasn’t been leached out by the same deck of cards in the same scarred hands shuffled and reshuffled for eternity. He's interesting, and new, and most of all, predictable.

"Say, Sapnap," he continues, blowing over the other's anger, knowing that it'll only make the frustration build more. He lets his hair flop lazily over one eye, lets his smile grow wider, lips pressed together in amusement, turns his face so that it's lit eerily by the lava lake beneath them. "If we're monsters for, I don't know, setting off a few stacks of TNT," he waves his hand flippantly, watching the muscle of the other's jaw jump in poorly-hidden rage, "What does that make you for what you did to Dream?"

Sapnap's eyes go wide, and Wilbur knows he's struck the jackpot. He lets his lips part to reveal bared teeth, jagged and glinting in the light. "I'm sorry, did that hit a nerve?"

The kid's mouth opens- closes- emotions warring on his face, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, lip trembling. "We- we had to-" his hands come to his face, palms digging into his eyes, and while he's not looking, Wilbur draws his expression back a bit, becoming softer, more welcoming. When Sapnap looks back up, his eyes are shining, hands shaking still; he steps forward, then rocks back on his back foot like he doesn't know where to go. "What do you mean?" he throws the words like they're meant to be a threat, but by the end his voice has devolved into something high-pitched and keening, overflowing with desperate grief that Wilbur latches onto like a starving man (ha) with his last meal.

"I'm sorry, it does seem rather insensitive for me to assume," he resumes pacing around the other, voice lilting, soft, "I just mean, it seemed pretty obvious, don't you think? I don't think I've ever seen someone so skinny, really, but I guess that is what happens when you get starved,"

"Shut up-"

"Not to mention the whole panicking thing, I mean, he's like Tommy sometimes with all of the fucking shaky breathing and mumbling around like creepers, not that I'd know what all of that's about," he watches Sapnap through half-hooded eyes, darkly amused, "and pickaxes, oddly enough, but oh well. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up-"

"And all of the scars - I thought they were from you, honestly, he told me about the whole 'taking his last life' thing, but then he jumped into lava one day - I guess there wasn't much to do in that cell, huh? He didn't even scream, it's really pretty fucking incredible - I thought I'd actually have to break him down a bit, but really, you've made my life so much easier-"

"SHUT UP-"

Wilbur watches with a too-wide grin as Sapnap finally, finally charges, a netherite sword appearing in his hand as he races blindly ahead, tears shining on his cheeks, his words more pain than thought as he brings the blade down-

A blur of purple, the sound of crumbling netherrack and metal meeting metal, flesh hitting flesh - Wilbur moves smoothly out of the way as Sapnap crashes to the ground, an armored figure bearing down an axe against the shield he's raised between them.

Dream, hair tangled and long, wearing armor that is far too heavy for his skinny frame, every inch of him shaking in panic, should hardly be a threat - but this is Sapnap, weakened by Wilbur's sharp words and crippled by the shock of seeing his former best friend's face again, eyes still unfocused from the rage and tears that had clouded over them moments before, so he can do little but raise his shield as the netherite slams into it, again and again. Not a word falls from Dream's lips, but he brings down the weapon at a ruthless pace - ever since he's been free, his attack style has changed greatly from the defensive style he used to favor, even to Wilbur's untrained eye - there's no skill, no art to the way he attacks anymore, just the fearful ferocity of a dog trapped in a cage for far, far too long.

He finally kicks Sapnap down the netherrack cliff that they're on, the other man left to nurse his wounds below them - Wilbur doesn't bother sparing him another thought; Dream's far too weak to cause any permanent damage. Instead, he approaches his partner, weapon, with a smile, watching, satisfied, when he whirls around with a manic expression.

"I'm alright, see?" he croons as Dream's shoulders move up and down with his heaving breaths, eyes fever-bright, teeth bared. He brings a hand down on the other's shoulder and watches as he flinches at the movement, breath hitching, every muscle freezing, knuckles pale on the handle of his axe, before moving again, stumbling forwards, hands reaching for Wilbur's head and stopping halfway. Wilbur tips his head forward, lets the shorter brush his face with trembling fingers, checking his unmarred skin for blood through the purpling bruises already forming on his cheek, and thinks how powerful he is to have a god at his beck and call, a perfect attack dog brought to heel, death itself obediently at his side.

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison, and as Wilbur runs his hand up and down his back, feeling the way his spine arches at the touch, at the fluttering pulse under the skin-and-bone wrist under his fingers, he thinks how fortunate he is to be the first to notice.

#old stuff :]#queue <3 #tw abuse #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw toxic relationship #tw blood #tw injury #tw trauma #tw touch starvation #mutually assured destruction duo my beloved #post prison dream brainrot always lmao #my writing :D #my asks !!

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dopepoisonivyoncrack · 3 years ago

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I’m actually ok with how the rings conflict went down. Tsuna and the others became the owners of the rings because of the Sky battle. As I see it, it wasn’t just a bunch of brats winning against adult established professional assassins. They actually lost in terms of battle prowess and Varia would have won the conflict if Xanxus wouldn’t have been rejected by the ring. That was what decided the rings’ ownership, after all. The conflict wasn’t even all about battle prowess, it was also about showing if they have what it takes to fulfill the duties of the guardians (and an introduction ofc). During the battles, the kids showed they have those qualities even if they lost. I’m referring here to sun guardian duty of “Destroying the misfortune that attacks the famigilia with their own body, they become the sun that brightly shines on a area”, cloud guardian duty to "be the aloft, drifting cloud that protects the family from a independent standpoint, and whom nothing can ever bind'', mist guardian duty of “Creating something from nothing, and nothing from something; thus bewildering the enemy, to render the familigia's true form intangible with visions of deceit” etc.

Taking in account individual battles, Gokudera lost the battle and the ending served to show his character development (learning to value his own life), Bel won. Lambo lost the battle to Levi, as one would expect, but his potential as a lightning guardian was shown. It was the right call to not let 20-years-later Lambo to get a hit, then it would have been unfair. Even Tsuna lost to Xanxus.

Now for the wins, Ryohei’s win was decided when he managed to break Lussuria’s knee defense armor, and who is to say he couldn’t have the power to do that? He is a guy that, like Hibari, seems to be made from different stuff than his peers, a boxer that trains himself extremely every day and although short-timed, he received essential training from Colonnello, an Arcobaleno. His draw-backs during the fight were to be expected. He was getting beaten by Lussuria until the end, but he also showed quick adaptability, above average power and that he could fulfill the guardian duty. In the end it was shown that his blockage is more likely to be emotional, and he unchained himself when his sister was brought to the scene. Lussuria wasn’t really beaten physically speaking but his resolve was gone, it was pointless to continue the fight and he was shot down by Varia (as he expected). One could argue though if Lussuria was fighting seriously, if the knee armor makes so much of a difference, or if Ryohei is that powerful if he concentrates his resources right.

Squalo did know about the Shigure Soen Ryu, but he couldn’t have known the move Yamamoto recently came up with. That hit to the head Yamamoto managed to land wasn’t something that would render someone like Squalo incapable of fighting, again, physically speaking. Depending on the nerve hit, he might have been incapable of moving for a bit though. Squalo’s mistake was that he underestimated Yamamoto, he was too sure of himself so he wasn’t alert enough. If he would have taken Yamamoto more seriously, he would have been more alert, and adaptable, and he could have reacted more quickly to a new and surprise attack. Despite the settings, the battles weren’t to the death, as long as one would manage to take the ring and show that they have what it takes to fulfill the duty. It is exactly because it’s Squalo that we’re talking about, why landing even a single hit matters so much, because no one would expect it, and ofc he would acknowledge an opponent that got him even for a brief moment, he is a prideful swordsman after all. It might be also worth considering that Yamamoto is a natural hitman, as Reborn repeatedly stated across the series. That might be a way to explain how he could come up with new SSR stances and master them so quickly.

Mukuro making Mammon sweat in a match shouldn’t be so surprising, right? They are both at the top of their game when it comes to illusions. Also, Mammon ran, they weren’t K.O.

Hibari beating up a war machine… that should be an exaggeration, yet it seems to be an established thing in the series that Hibari is just built differently. A war machine in a boy’s body. This is a take it or leave it thing, why I left it at the end.

In the universe, I think the ring conflict was handled quite reasonably. Outside the universe, I find it pointless to discuss logic, physics and such, because then nothing could happen.

#long post #ivy on khr #I refuse to engage in other people's post #I will however share my view separately if I feel like it or m asked

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peachy-inserts · 4 years ago

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𝕙𝕢 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝

✉︎ request: n/a

✰warnings: none. fluff!

✎a/n: please i made myself cry over asahi during this i love him so much

➳ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, ᴀꜱᴀʜɪ, ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ, ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ, ᴛᴀɴᴀᴋᴀ, ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ, ꜱᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ, ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ, ɴɪꜱʜɪɴᴏʏᴀ, ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ

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✰Daichi loves to bake with you. He hopes on the pumpkin spice wagon just because it means there’s an excuse for the two of you to make something together in the kitchen, but there are times when he just wants you to feed him. He’s an absolute glutton this time of year, both for sweets and for you. Also, coffee dates! Loves taking strolls with you in the crisp fall weather and warming up with a hot drink, though one time he spilled his latte all over his lap because he was so focused on the way your nose scrunched in delight and fingers tapped against your styrofoam cup at the sweetness of the beverage that he completely missed his mouth. Of course, this only ended with you spitting your drink out all over his front and the table

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✰Asahi always makes sure you’re warm. The sudden and drastic change in weather makes his bones ache, maybe it’s because of his old soul, or maybe (as you tease him) his body just can’t keep up with its own size. When you leave the house together, he takes his time to wrap the scarf his mother knit for you around your neck with care, tucking it gently into the folds of your jacket so the scratchy yarn doesn’t irritate your skin, already dry and chapped from the cold. He’s a human radiator, though, and often goes out with as little as a sweatshirt with nothing underneath, to which you call him a hypocrite for. You know, though, that you’ll end up clinging to him against the wind while he laughs and comments on how he isn’t at all cold while you shiver under his hold

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✰Iwaizumi takes you to pick out pumpkins. He drapes his heavy tan coat over your shoulders as you stand idly with your arms crossed and tucked under each other for warmth, him taking far too long and being far too picky in his selection process. He looks like a dad with the way he insects every pumpkin, knocking on it a few times before shaking his head and moving on. You can’t help but admire the way his biceps flex as he struggles to carry the numerous pumpkins you had chosen, despite your efforts to help him. You only carve a few of them, though, and the rest are placed around them. When they rot, you break them apart to discard and jokingly mention that he should chuck the pieces at Oikawa, but he takes you a little too seriously

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✰Tanaka takes you to a corn maze. On the way there, you take a tractor ride and he lays his coat down before you sit so that the hay doesn’t poke through your jeans, although he looks panicked in doing so, and practically rips his entire outfit off in his eagerness to be a gentleman for you. The ride is faster than anticipated, though, and now missing his outermost layer, he clings to you for warmth. You get lost in the maze and end up being yelled at by an old woman for cutting through the crops, so he hoists you onto his shoulders to scout for an exit. The two of you end up speedrunning the whole maze, and you laugh hysterically while teetering back and forth and clutching the top of his head for support, stealing his beanie for yourself.

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✰Oikawa takes you on a shopping spree. You both indulge in the latest fall fashions, and although he intended to choose a few pieces for himself can’t help but search frantically for items that you’d enjoy, and that he’d certainly enjoy to see on you. He doesn’t let you leave the shopping mall without a new waist coat, one that matches his but doesn’t clash with your shoes and compliments your eyes, two pairs of boots, and a comfortable hat that you look absolutely adorable in, the cinch of it’s fabric material drawing your hair down flat beside your cheeks and accenting your nose, which he can’t go a day without peppering soft kisses onto; usually in the morning when the sun has just hit your face. He loves to see you glow like rudolph, and it’s one of his favorite features

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✰Tsukishima invites you to his family’s thanksgiving. It’s a big deal for him, who usually separates his interpersonal relationships from his home life, and although he’s flustered, does the best he can to make you feel welcomed in his house. Despite his typical cold attitude, something that you are not spared from, it’s better to be kind to you than be publicly lectured by his mother for not being courteous to you, especially when most of his family is meeting you for the first time. Not that he doesn’t mind being kind to you in the first place, but he’ll save the teasing for another day; right now, this is a test for him. When he walks you home after you’ve stuffed yourself full, he’s extremely relieved, and thanks you for coming along. You know this is a big step for him, and that it can only mean you hold a special place in his heart

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✰Sugawara learns to crochet, just for you. He stays up late watching youtube videos, and although the awkward positions he twists his hands into just to finally get a yarn over on the hook make his joints ache and cramp, he works vigilantly at making you a matching set consisting of a scarf, headband, and pair of mittens. The stitching is loose and uneven, and you can’t really tell if he actually used a pattern or not, but it’s so heartwarming and thoughtful that you simply can’t get by without wearing it at least once. The same night he presents you with this set, you go out to a haunted maze, and you’re wearing each piece proudly. He spends the whole time creeping behind you trying to get you to scream, though, with a phone in hand, and you’re reminded of his pesky duality and the tendency to wreak havoc and stroll away carelessly

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✰Bokuto takes you on a ghost trail. He takes you here with the intention of being your knight in shining armor, but you swear he’s going to break your hand with how hard he squeeze it every time there’s a particularly loud gust of wind, the kind that whispers behind your ears and rustles the trees. He’s caught off guard by its low hissing, and when a crisp red leaf falls on top of his head he yelps, hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and breaking into a run before you lower yourself and stop him in his tracks. You decide to leave, after that, and stop by the vendor at the entrance for candied apples. Hey, at least he took you with him instead of using you as a shield, right?

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✰Ushijima arranges a ride through the countryside. You clamber into the back of an old, rusted pickup truck with him, and he lets you use his hand as leverage to hop into the bed, which has been covered in hay. You pass by fields of corn, and excitedly point out every horse you see to him, and although his only response is a low hum, you can see the way he smiles softly, genuinely, at you out of the corner of your eye. You lean over the wheels a few times to get a better look at the scene, and he instinctively reaches out to steady your legs so you don’t fall over

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✰Nishinoya goes trick or treating with you. He’s planned out several routes in case someone calls him out for being so old and asking for candy, so you always have another place to go and start over. When he’s rejected too many times, he has the ingenious idea to drag Hinata along with you two and tell people that he’s your son. It doesn’t work out exactly that way, though, and you find yourself being asked if you’re really just babysitting the two. Hey, at least he got what he came for though, right?

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✰Kuroo goes apple picking with you. When you mention how they would make a good pie, he somehow ends up rambling on about the chemical properties in the pie crust you find on pinterest, and how it’s more likely to burn, how you shouldn’t add that much brown sugar, and on and on and on until you finally find something to distract him. He pulls the branches down for you, but only after you’ve hopped up towards it a few times. He pulls a twig off and uses it to smack your head, teasing you for being so short compared to him

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