#pretty good otherwise though. why did it take me so long to read this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kinopio-writes · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Would you be willing to write something for Adam with a sensitive reader?

Everyone knows that he is loud-mouthed jerk, even reader, and she loves him regardless, but one day he crosses the line and says something particularly mean that makes her cry. Like REAL mean. To the point that he pauses because he did not think before speaking (or, well, less than usual lol)

I'm happy with whatever format you feel like using! Thank you!

A/N: I will be more than delighted to write that for you. But would you excuse me for a moment? AHHHHHHDISJDIOEOFJSKXJND—I’m sorry; I love this idea so much. Reading ‘Adam with a sensitive reader’ got me hooked instantly. But I’ll go over that in the headcanons, along with the general stuff. And I’ll add a oneshot at the end that plays the exact scenario of Adam taking it too far.

Holy sh!t. I made it so that the reader being sensitive is their greatest but also weakest point and it turned out pretty angsty. Has a bit of hurt/comfort, though. Did I go overboard? Maybe. That’s why it took so long. Sorry, anon.

Words: 2,328 (edited)

Warnings: Sex is mentioned (only a bit, surprisingly), Angst, Adam being Adam

———

Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader

• ha, this man is also sensitive himself

• well, sensitive about himself

• he feels his own emotions strongly, so he’s not the caring, easily able to pick up on other’s feelings and empathize type of sensitive

• you, on the other hand, are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Adam

• so you experience other people’s emotions just as strongly as yours

• you easily know what makes someone tick

• you’re selfless

• you’re able to admit your mistakes and apologize

• you’re respectful and actively listen to people when they talk about themselves

• you don’t push people down to make yourself seem better

• you try to make everyone feel good and comfortable

• you’re everything he isn’t

• because you fit in Heaven perfectly

• you deserve to be there

• and Adam knows that he doesn’t belong (subconsciously at least)

• you’re able to draw people in just for being yourself

• and he’s envious of it

• so he demeans you and is snarky about everything you do, and every time people give you praise or affection, he tries to divert the attention to himself or just stares at you with utter hatred from afar

• although all of that is just when he hasn’t even had a conversation with you

• after a while of being around you, he’ll cling to you because you give him the reassurance and validation he oh-so craves (he acts as if he didn’t hate you before. What do you mean? You two were always buddy-buddy!)

• you acknowledge all of the things he puts his worth to

• heck, you hang out with him—you sometimes even initiate it—willingly, and you’re genuinely interested in everything he has to say

• but he‘ll only hang out with you where no one recognizes you (so you don’t get all the attention)

• terrible transition here, but he notices that you mimic people’s expressions often

• he definitely makes fun of you for it

• and also mocks you

• up until he realizes that you do the same thing to him, too

• which is fine and all, if only you didn’t do that when he’s upset

• well, you mimic him when he’s joyous as well, but he (already subconsciously) expects you to. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fucking hilarious!

• so you copying his negative emotions just stands out more

• and he…doesn’t like it

• that’s only really what he doesn’t like about you

• and the fact that you hog all the attention

• and the fact that people see you as perfect…

• buuut what happens when he gets to see a new side of you that isn’t exactly upholding that image?

———

Your phone lit up from your bedside table, brightening your otherwise dark room along with the soft glow of your halo. You only moved your eyes to the light, not wanting your tears to spill and dampen your pillows.

You had an inkling as to who was texting you this late—if the fact that your phone lighting up several times in the span of 5 minutes had anything to say.

When the texts stopped pouring in after a few seconds, you heavily sighed, wings ruffling. You resisted the urge to rub your face as you went to grab your phone.

HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) ARE YOU UP? (2:35) I’M BORED (2:35) GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE (2:36) IF YOU’RE UP (2:37) ARE YOU? (2:38) DID I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WITH THE HUGE TITS GOT FIRED TODAY? (2:39)

Figured. Of course, it was Adam. He was the only person you knew who’d be awake at this ungodly hour. And the only person you knew who’d disturb your peace if it meant curing anything that ailed him. Which was now about boredom, it seemed.

You read a few of his texts displayed on your lock screen before tapping one of the notifications and opening the app, scanning the rest of the unread messages.

Adam was going on about ‘that bitch with the huge tits’—her name was Tiffany, you were sure—and how she was rumored to have slept with an archangel to assume higher authority. He also went on to complain about how he didn’t have the chance to bed her anymore since she was basically deemed an outcast and that he couldn’t be seen with someone like her.

You frowned, not believing any of it, but you didn’t have time to think about it enough when he began typing again.

SO YOU’RE AWAKE (2:43)

You barely finished reading the new message when another one popped up.

DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH (2:43)

You frowned deeper, quick to type out a reply.

i’m not (2:43) i was just reading your texts (2:43) don’t worry (2:43) i’ll be there soon (2:44)

When he stopped typing, you placed your phone back on the nightstand, sitting up on your bed as you carefully wiped away your teary eyes. You hugged yourself for a moment, wings functioning as a cocoon while a hand tugged on your hair.

Today had been draining—both mentally and emotionally. Just like the day before, and the day before that. But you didn’t want to think about it, lest you start to cry some more and smear your face with tears this time. What mattered was that everyone was back on their feet again.

Since you didn’t bother changing into your sleepwear when you got home, you only checked your face in the mirror to see if your eyes were puffy or not. You then took in deep breaths, holding up your drooping wings before putting up a charming smile.

You couldn’t stay in the bathroom for long, quickly leaving to tread the path to Adam’s.

•••

“BOO!” Adam’s masked face suddenly peeked from the corner of his hallway, earning an indescribable scream from you as you jerked back. He burst out laughing, brows creased in confusion but also amusement. He couldn’t even make fun of you for getting scared. “What the—what the fuck was that scream?”

Recovering rather quickly as you blinked, you only smiled at him. You were expecting him to wait for you on his couch as his front door was left unlocked, but you weren’t complaining; his action took away any drowsiness you just had.

When Adam didn’t hear you laugh with him, his laughter subsided as he opened his eyes to look at your face. He raised his brows and placed the back of his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you?”

Shit. There was no way Adam was seeing through you.

“Nothing; I just love hearing you laugh.” You heard a tiny squeak in response. “Anyway, what did you make me come over for? Surely not just to scare me.” You moved past Adam and tightly crossed your arms, entering his spacious living room.

“Pshh, fuck no. You’re so easy to spook. Though that was a first. Didn’t know you could hit high notes, (Name).”

You didn’t know what to say to his…compliment? And sort of insult? Was it really either of them? Should you thank him? But in a sarcastic way? No, you weren’t known for being sarcastic, so he might think you were being genuine and look at you weirdly. And it would also seem highly egotistical.

Not as if Adam had much to say about that…

You tugged at your hair when you caught yourself with those thoughts. Shit, that’s so rude! You can’t think that! You shouldn’t think that!

You settled on an awkward chuckle, making yourself appear smaller as you averted your eyes to his TV space.

It was different, certainly. The modular couch pieces were rearranged into a pit sectional. And it looked as though he had chucked a bunch of pillows and one large blanket as an afterthought. It appeared messy, but at least it looked cozy.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? Oh, well, since you were taking your sweet ass time coming here, I thought to switch things up a bit.” You flinched when his head appeared right on your shoulder. “What’d ya think?”

“It looks super comfy.” Adam wore a goofy grin behind you as you walked closer to the area and noticed that he already prepared snacks on the low table. “Is this a way to say you wanna do a movie marathon?”

“You know it, baby.” He flew past you and landed on the sofa, patting the space beside him with a smile you just couldn’t reject.

•••

Heaven’s natural light beginning to peek through the open windows indicated that it was already dawn. Thank goodness you didn’t have work today.

You two—or rather, Adam—had settled on watching the film series, Die Hard. Every single one. You didn’t mind, but you didn’t understand why Adam invited you over if you two were just going to rewatch the film series for the eighth time.

He had also been pretty immersed in the large screen in front of him, so he hadn’t attempted to converse with you ever since the first movie started. In all honesty, he could have just watched them all by himself.

But you didn’t question it. This time was the same as the last seven, after all. You always concluded that maybe he just wanted someone to watch movies with, no talking necessary. Even if the no-talking part sounded a bit out of character.

Was it though? Because he did that quite often. For instance, he constantly brought you along to whatever mundane errands he had to do during the weekdays and never really talked with you unless he found something cool and pointed it out.

Although, the earlier times you tagged along with him on his errands, he kept yapping his mouth off about the ‘totally awesome’ things he does. He talked about music, his own albums, his band, women, sex, and himself as the first-ever man.

As time went on, however, the talking was replaced with silence. You wondered if he just ran out of things to say or if he found it unnecessary to talk anymore.

You also sometimes wondered what was going through his head when he thought you didn’t see him glancing at you while he was doing something he believed was boring.

The sound of Adam’s stomach rumbling broke you out of your train of thought.

You both looked at each other blankly as if either of you were to blame.

He blinked to break the eye contact between you. “(Name), I’m hungry.”

You snorted, facing ahead. “You ate all of our snacks before the first movie even finished.”

“Don’t blame me.” He hugged the pillow he held tighter. “I’m still fuckin’ hungry, though.”

You hummed as you reached for your pocket. “Do you want me to—oh. I…I forgot my phone.” You frowned. You never forget to bring your belongings.

Adam merely stared at you, unblinking.

You averted your eyes and held your legs tighter. “Uhm, We could get delivery if you want. Can you lend me your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He casually tossed you the device before laying on his back and looking up at you. “I’m down for anything.”

His phone hit your knee before you could catch it, silently landing on the cushions. “Are you sure?” You picked it up, opened his unlocked phone, and stared at his basic home screen.

He didn’t really use his phone that often to know that it could be changed. He only really used it to fetch one-night stands or occasional dates, text, play music aloud, look at outdated memes, take random blurry photos, and right now, order delivery.

“Totally.” His crow’s feet displayed on his mask as he puffed out his cheeks.

“Because last time you said that, you didn’t like what I had to pick.”

“That’s because the 5 ʼn 2 is so fucking overrated!” he suddenly started to complain. Your wings ruffled. “Jeez, I swear, every fuckin’ time I take a chick out and ask her what her favorite eatery is, basic bitches always go, ‘Oh, bREaD & fIsH, ceRTAinLy’ or ‘bReAD & FiSh’S a cLAsSIC’” He used his hand as a puppet to imitate their words before waving it. “Like, helloooo? Can’t you see the joint that’s literally on the other side of the street’s a hundred times superior? It’s cheaper, too, unlike Bread & Fish. Overpriced ass. You get me, right—?”

“Then you pick!” Adam jumped at your volume, and your eyes widened upon noticing yourself. You quickly gave back his phone as you turned your face away from him, and he slowly took it with a weird look.

“Shit, chill, (Name). The fuck’s up your ass?” He kept his gaze on you before turning to his phone.

While he was serious about his opinions of your bland tastes, he didn’t think it was that personal. Your preferences were the same as everyone else and that was boring. He was just being honest. And you usually didn’t take the things he said that seriously.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” you spoke up after a moment of silence and ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“ʼs not a problem.” He was still a bit weirded out, but he was willing to shrug it off.

You insisted, however, “I mean it. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay…?” he muttered when he saw a notification pop up from Lute. Her message consisted of how some of the exterminators got into a quarrel during roll call and the ones involved got injured in the process. She said she was going to discipline them.

Adam did not want to know what she meant by that and was most likely not going to stop by their place today.

“Really. I’m not. Sorry. It’s just that yesterday’s been…”

“Uh-huh…” At this point, Adam was not listening to anything you were saying. But when he still heard the static noise that was your words, he groaned. “Look, sweetie, I really don’t give a fuckin’ shit about your fuckin’ apology, ʼkay? I don’t fuckin’ care. Now what do you want?”

You saw Adam’s confused yet concerned expression after he looked up from his phone and immediately noticed that you were starting to cry. You instantly turned your face away as you carefully wiped your eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not crying because of you.” You didn’t know if that was true. You didn’t know if you were crying because of his words or were crying because of everything else.

That was the first time he ever used a sweet petname for you in a long time. He only ever used that to demean or mock other people.

Shit. Stop thinking—you were going to cry more. But even after carefully wiping your eyes away, new tears kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. This was humiliating. You wanted to disappear. You didn’t want anyone to witness you in this state. It was mortifying.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice came out panicky as he held his hands out towards you, but he hesitated. Hesitated in what, he didn’t even know.

He…didn’t think you could cry.

Adam didn’t know what to do; this emotional shit wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t ask you to leave, he knew that much, but he didn’t want to leave himself. This was his place. Why should he leave?

So, he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

You suddenly felt something warm envelop you.

You didn’t look up, but you knew it was Adam. You could feel the texture of his robe on your hands and the side of your face. You could feel his hands on your shoulder blade, but you couldn’t quite feel his arms on you.

You stopped wiping your eyes for a moment.

No one had ever hugged you before when you were sad.

No one had ever let you be sad.

Adam heard you sob.

Fucking great. He made it worse. What the fuck was he supposed to do then?

But when he went to unwrap his arms, he felt yours slip around his midsection, pulling him closer than before as he grunted from your firm hold.

So you wanted to be hugged? Alright. Whatever.

Adam slowly hugged you back after you muttered a ‘sorry’ and loosened your grip.

The next seconds were silent, so when he heard muffled words coming from you, he looked down. You also looked up moments later when he didn’t respond, realizing he must’ve not heard you.

Your gaze softened as you two held eye contact, and with teary eyes, you smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”

Something about his expression changed, but before you could stare any longer, you felt a hand behind your head push you back to his chest as the arm on your back held you tight.

“Yeah, whatever…”

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #kinopiowrites

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harkonnen-darkness · 5 months ago

Text

【 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! 】

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen X f! Reader

┄ Words: ca. 6.000

┄ OneShot to Love Bites

┄ This OS is connected to 𝕸𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙

Warnings: dark Feyd - has a soft spot for you, he has several feelings for his Na-Baroness, he killed Readers rapist, blood & gore, deep talking (for Feyd it's already too much lol), bloody biting, smut sexual touching -> oral (female receving), genital friction, fingering - 18+

Thank you for chosing the title.

And thanks to a beta-reader. <3

only Feyd's pov

She bounced against my chest as I was about to enter her chambers. ❝Where are you going?❞, I asked her as she looked up with wide eyes. She seemed momentarily overwhelmed, took a small step back and stammered, startled, ❝I w-wanted to look for you. You've been gone for so long.❞ Grinning mischievously, I tilted my head. Oh, did Lady Skiras missed me? ❝Have you been… busy with him until now?❞, her voice rang out again as I walked into her chambers, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her behind me. A few candles lit the room in a soft, warm light. I found it almost ridiculous that a proud warrior like her had such a side in her. But if that was what she wanted, it was okay with me. I was happy to use any means to make her feel comfortable here on Giedi Prime. Otherwise, the rooms were completely dark, the night deep black. The pleasant scent of her shower gel also caught my nose. It was crazy how used to it I had become. Even crazier how much I liked it. I thought about taking a bath with her tomorrow or swimming in the thermal. As long as my uncle was still away, I could spend a lot more time with my queen.

The large balcony doors were slightly open, the air pleasantly cool compared to the day, but still too warm for my liking. As soon as all the rain had disappeared a few days ago, a sultry heat prevailed on the gloomy planet. Thunderstorms were passing across the sky from time to time, but the air was only slightly cooler as a result. I pushed [y/n] onto the edge of the bed, bent down to her, between her knees. She looked at me silently, as I looked at her. I actually wanted to hear words from her, a 'thank you' at best, but I knew that I had completely overwhelmed her with my actions today. Nevertheless, I hoped that she would love and adore me even more for it than she already did. Her pretty fingers layed on my heated skin, her eyes resting searchingly on my body. ❝It's only his blood. None of it is mine.❞, I explained. Should I be offended now? Or did she just mean well? She nodded understandingly, still silent. I laughed softly, put a bloody hand on her cheek and watched her lean against it for a moment. She seemed to feel safe in my presence. Good. Tears gathered in her tired eyes, sparkling like diamonds, before they ran down her cheeks, thick as blood. Quickly, one of her hands jerked up and wiped the water away. ❝Apologize, Feyd.❞ I shook my head. She was allowed to cry today. In fact, I hoped they were tears of relief. Why else would she be crying?

I would have loved to read her thoughts now. She was probably wondering, and rightly so, what I had done to her tormentor. This afternoon, I had allowed her to take a look in the dark dungeon, after I had defeated him in the arena. A few days ago, I had spontaneously decided to kill him. In full public view. If my uncle asked, I would lie. Another no-good Atreides. And not a follower of the Harkonnens… actually. The beautiful female before me had never told me his name, and yet it had been easy for my middleman to figure out which man was behind it. Who had touched her in a gruesome way. I was disgusted that I had once spoken to him. That I had exchanged words with him and thus unknowingly wasted my time. So disgusting! But how wonderful - [y/n] had wanted to look for me. She probably couldn't fall asleep without me. I wouldn't allow her to wander the halls alone so late at night anyway, no. Even though I knew she could fight back, I was afraid for her. Nobody should harm her. Nobody! I leaned my forehead against her upper body, enjoying her gentle touch. The old me would have mocked me for it. For letting a woman who wasn't one of my whores get so close to me. Closer than the three pets, much closer. But I was pining for her, just as she was pining for me. I idolized her, just as she idolized me. And somewhere along the line, I also hated her deeply. For the fact that she could trigger exactly these feelings and emotions in me. Every day anew. I wanted her to touch me the way she did now. I wanted her to snuggle up to me and fall asleep on my chest, when I layed next to her - which wasn't every night.

Dreamy as I was, my hands stroked her bare legs, under the long black, asymmetrical skirt. Her skin was so pleasantly warm. Her slim fingers had not left my skin either and a purr escaped my throat as she stroked my shoulder muscles with circular movements. There was a pleasant silence in the room, nothing could be heard. It was almost unusual for me after all the screams from her tormentor. I really hoped that her nightmares would come to an end now too. Somewhere I understood and always tried to calm her down, but on the other hand it got on my nerves to have to wake her from her nightmares at night or to be woken up by her sobbing. She shouldn't waste another thought on him! From now on, she would forget him more and more every day. My act today, my gift to her, had to be proof enough that she was important to me and that I had feelings for her. I continued to stroke her legs gently, a stark contrast to the other things I had done with my bare hands today. Another grin crept uncontrollably onto my lips and I kissed the thin, even slightly transparent fabric of her top. I smelled the scent of lavender again, this time on her skin. I rested my head on her thighs, closed my eyes for a moment and continued to allow her lovely touches. Allowed myself to enjoy them. I was powerful, but not enough to detach myself from this female. If she died or disappeared, I would probably lose my mind completely. I would slaughter absolutely everyone. If she would ever try to escape, I would take her back. What was once my property remained mine! Unless I gave it up voluntarily. But I would never give her to anyone else! Why should I?

I didn't realize that I was in a trance at that moment. That her aura completely possessed and captivated me. My eyes remained on her pretty legs, looking at the blood on them that my fingers were spreading. As if it was doing something to me, triggering something deep inside me. I remembered when we had been completely covered in blood, intimate. The sheets and pillows stained red like batik. What a beautiful memory. Growling, I exhaled and slowly looked up at her, gazing deep into her pretty eyes. Her lips were slightly parted and I knew she wanted to say something, but couldn't get a sound out. I got caught up in the reflective sparkling light of the candles. She swallowed nervously. How beautiful.

What was she thinking? I would have loved to split her skull open and read her thoughts. Through the dancing candlelight, I saw something flash in the corner of my eye on the bedside table and turned my head in that direction. Ah, it was the tooth she had removed. Blood still clung to the small bone. With slow movements, I reached into my trouser pocket and pulled out another one. ❝You only took one.❞, I said. My voice even rougher than usual, very quiet. ❝Two are better.❞, I added and placed it next to the other one. She only nodded in agreement, nothing else. She was still too overwhelmed by all the emotions that had erupted in her today, because of me. I loved to overwhelm her. Emotionally as well as physically. I knew she'd been racking her brain all day about how I'd found out. How he had gotten to Giedi Prime. Would I tell her? No, very probably not. Maybe one day. But definitely not today, not now! This morning I had almost left my Chambers in a hurry because I knew that I would finally be able to get rid of him. Once again, I nestled my head against her torso, purring relaxedly as I felt so comfortable in her presence. I knew that I could let myself go with her. She was my haven of peace. When I was too stressed or angry, I liked to seek her out to calm down again. I liked to let myself fall onto her upper body, listen to her heartbeat and let her stroke me like she was doing now. My good-for-nothing uncle had accepted my decision to have her as a (Na-)Baroness. Smart for me, bad for him. No one would ever have thought that I would find my fiancée more than just physically attractive. Just as little as I did at the beginning. I had quickly found her interesting, but it had taken me longer to really admit it to myself.

❝Thank you, Feyd.❞, her voice rang out softly in the darkness. Ah, there it was. I raised my head slightly, but didn't look at her. Instead, I pressed a gentle kiss to the exposed skin between her breasts. My hands slid up her waist, stroking it a few times. Her fingers stroked the back of my neck and I purred once more. I loved it when she did that. Especially at certain moments. My lips wandered over the gauzy fabric over her breasts, feeling her nipples underneath. I licked over the fabric and bit, a little more gently, into the soft flesh. She moaned quietly and her fingers gripped the back of my neck. I pressed her upper body onto the mattress and pushed her thighs further apart. I licked over the blood on her skin, my blackened teeth sinking deep into the equally soft flesh, letting her red liquid, which tasted so much better, melt on my tongue. Her muscle twitched a little, but I didn't care. When she wanted to stay mine, she had to live with it!

I bit her arm several times, her shoulder, her neck and jawline. Marked her as mine. Just as it should be. ❝Say that you're mine!❞, I growled into her ear. It wasn't just a request, she had no other choice. And she knew that. My hands reached under her back to better position her on the bed. ❝I'm yours, my Baron.❞, she whispered as her head sank onto the thick pillows. I didn't loosen my tight grip on her, leaning my forehead against hers and smiling darkly. After today, I needed reassurance. The man I had killed today had touched her before me. I didn't just hate him for that. I had, literally, torn him apart and yet my anger hadn't gone away. Inside, I felt like I was going to burst with rage. But the pretty girl underneath me would calm me down, I knew that. ❝Again.❞, I murmured against her lips. She giggled, which made me smile too. She stroked my hard chest, over the dried blood and traced the lines of my muscles, but remained silent at first. ❝Are you mine, Feyd?❞ She smiled softly, but I could hear pain in her voice. I felt an uncomfortable weakness inside me. Unpleasant because I couldn't do anything about it. A weakness for her.

Lost in thought, feeling her tickling fingertips, I forgot to answer. Only her startled look snapped me back to reality. ❝Yes, I am.❞, I whispered and stroked her lower lip with my thumb, giving in to my feelings for her. It was no use fighting it (now). It only made my otherwise cold heart ache. I wanted to win her over every time. I needed her. Today I didn't even wait for her answer and kissed her full of desire. I knew her answer either way. She was mine, even after death she would be! I undid the side lacing of her skirt and pulled it off her legs. Her thin top followed suit.

❝You don't always have to do this, Feyd.❞, she moaned breathlessly, as I kissed my way down her body. A guilty conscience plagued her, as she couldn't give me everything yet because of her rapist. But I knew that would change. I was a big part of this process myself and wanted to give her the time she needed. One night or day, I would feel all of her on me. ❝Shut the fuck up!❞, I growled and pushed her down again. With quick finger grips, I removed the simple underwear from her body, biting into her breasts again, her skin down between her legs. I would never miss out on the nectar and her sweet moans. She deserved it. And when I was to be the one to pleasure her in this way, all the better! I pressed my fingers against the fresh bite mark on her thigh, to remind her again who she belonged to. I ran my tongue over the heated flower-rose and heard her shakily inhale. I loved having pure control over her body and emotions. Slowly and carefully, I penetrated her with my tongue, paying attention to any warning signals from her body. But her muscles didn't tense up, her body let me have my way. Her fingers clawed into the sheets and moaned hoarsely. Today I wanted to give her as much as possible. I had spent almost the whole day cruelly torturing this man. I did everything to him that I could think of on the spur of the moment. Until just a few minutes ago, the life had drained out of his body. Now it was time to take care of my beloved and give her what she deserved - apart from me. Her shy moans echoed through the dark room. The candlelight brightened her body, the pearls of sweat on her skin looked like glitter.

The sight would make me come without having touched her, if I didn't take my eyes off her now. Only her twitching muscles around my tongue distracted me and I tightened one grip around her hip, the other hand further, just as hard, on her thigh. I pressed my tongue against her pearl as her body tensed and twitched, one of her hands wrapped around my neck and her fingernails briefly scratched hard across my skin. She didn't even seem to notice. I only gave her a few seconds to calm down, biting and sucking the skin of her thighs between my lips and teeth. A few bruises and purple marks should decorate her body like jewelry, because I wanted it that way! I licked once more over the beads of blood from the bite wound, before quickly turning to her neck to bite her hard there. But suddenly she jumped up and without releasing me from her, I felt her teeth in my shoulder. Blood immediately flowed from the wound, dripping down onto her skin. I growled deeply, not taking my teeth off her. But neither did she. I felt her tongue stroking my skin as I placed my hand on her upper body and pressed her back into the mattress with ease. Her bloody lips grinned cheekily at me and I couldn't help but kiss her. She was so cute and shy, and also so deliciously wicked and full of (bloody) action. I had seen her kill a few times. And I liked it far too much.

As soon as her hands opened my pants, I quickly changed position and pulled her onto my lap. I covered her neck with gentle kisses and slowly stroked up and down her back with both hands. ❝Are you okay?❞, I asked her to make sure. A lot could happen every day, but she certainly wouldn't have expected that. I continued to spread kisses over her sensitive skin, while I waited for her answer. Too long for my taste. I detached myself from her skin and gazed earnestly deep into her eyes. I didn't know how to interpret her silence. ❝It… it's been a bit much today.❞, she replied, no louder than a breath. I nodded understanding, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand. His blood now dry. My eyes didn't leave hers, searching for emotions in what she was feeling now. But I couldn't find an answer in them.

I searched for truths and lies at the same time. I stroked her bloody lips, whispering against them that she was mine. And that there was nothing she could do about it. To my surprise, she smiled, kissed my bloody hand, then my lips. She placed her body firmly on mine, making me groan. However, I had to push her back a little, reaching into my pants, to press my member against her wet labia. A pleasant sigh escaped us and I rested my head on her shoulder, wanting to relax for a moment. Knowing that only I would touch her like this. I pressed one hand under her butt, lifting her body with ease so that my dick slid over her labia. I slowly lifted and lowered her again, my tip stroking her pearl with light pressure. I spread kisses over her cleavage, my blood sticking on her skin here and there, which didn't bother me in the slightest. Her soft moans reached my ears as I licked over the bloody love bite. One hand layed on my chest, the other fell loosely over my shoulder. I kept up the slow pace, as I had sometimes noticed that it stimulated her body more. A soft thunder suddenly sounded over Giedi Prime, but no rain could be heard. I stroked her back with my other hand and pressed her harder against me. Her upper body touched mine, her arm wrapped tightly around my neck and her head continued to rest on my shoulder. I could feel her rapid heartbeat against my chest and it only aroused me even more. By now it hurt as much as her teeth had, when she had just bitten me hard. But I didn't see it as suffering - on the contrary. For me, it was just another sign of how much I wanted her. Before her, I had only found my pets attractive, no other females.

❝Strong heart, Feyd-Rautha.❞, her voice rang out hoarsely, which made me grin. What were once serious words from me, had turned into teasing between us. Little did I know that my heart was vibrating through her whole body. My hand pressed her even tighter against me, which made her moan. So hard that it hurt me too, but it was worth every second. ❝It's yours.❞, I rumbled against her ear and bit into it. Her wet pussy were almost unbearable, but I forced myself not to come yet. She was close, but not close enough. ❝Down.❞, I growled, my hand remaining firmly on her lower back as I placed her on the bed, her head propped up on the thick pillows. My blood was dripping onto her skin again, but I didn't really care. Her skin looked so beautiful with the red decoration on it. A flash of lightning lit up the room for a split second, followed by another thunder. Her legs automatically wrapped around my hips to make it easier for me to touch her flower-rose. Nevertheless, I supported her with one hand on her tailbone, my other arm resting next to her head. I looked at her breasts as I moved, watching my blood on them as I felt her lips on my forearm. She kissed my veins, which were clearly protruding due to the high outside temperature. Again, I had to take my eyes off the spectacle, otherwise I would have come. I loved how much she wanted me. But the pain inside me only got worse as her tongue slid over the bluish lines. I had to admit to myself that she was in control of me tonight, not me of her.

I bit, almost desperate, into the wound of her neck again, making her bleed further. My dick slid firmly over her labia, the wetness could be heard, her swollen pearl irritated my tip to death. ❝Fuck! You fucking devil!❞, I growled as she nibbled at my veins. She suddenly bit hard to suppress her moans, as I felt her twitching muscles, giving me the rest and pour down on her labia. Completely out of breath, I remained in my rigidity, did not move. Her legs were still wrapped around my waist. Pearls of sweat ran down my ribcage, mixed with the blood, barely able to stand the heat in my body. At that moment, I was hoping the storm would bring rain. Otherwise, the beautiful female beneath me would be my death. I could still feel her hot breath on my arm, as she hadn’t resolved her bite either. I raised my head a little, looked at her body, seeing the pretty little pearls of sweat everywhere, sparkling in the faint candlelight. In that moment, I realized that my orgasm hadn’t been a bit of a redemptive one for me. The pain returned, my dick slowly trembled again. Thus, within a few seconds, it began to rain heavily. But the thunderstorm did not end, as another low thunder sounded the night. Her teeth loosened and I heard her giggling softly. I looked at her asking questions. ❝Reminds me of your purring.❞ I didn't want to trust my ears, growled in her ear that she shouldn't play games with me. But in response, she gently kissed my neck and my bloody shoulder. That's it, there was no turning back. Deeply resentful, I pressed a hand against her lower back again to raise her a little more. And an instinct in me told me, it wouldn't just be a second round this night.

The sudden feeling of emptiness woke me up. She was just lifting her upper body, as I quickly wrapped my arm around her and pushed her down again. ❝Stay!❞, I growled and pressed her firmly back to me. I hated it when she stood up before me. ❝You should have got up a long time ago, Feyd.❞, she told me with worried eyes. I turned on my back and shook my head. ❝He’s not here. And no one else cares if I’m somewhere later than anyone else.❞, I explained to her, my grip around her did not loosen. ❝They know I’m with you anyway.❞, I grinned at her, making her cheeks blush a little. Voluntarily, she dropped onto my upper body, her breasts were pleasantly cool on my skin for a moment. Automatically, my hand was on her back, driving back up and down. The thick curtains let in enough light to see that almost all the stains on her back had faded. In the last few days, we had not had enough time to get really intimate with each other. I didn't really want quickies with her, rather I let my tongue do quick work and I touched myself. My uncle couldn't take that from me. But for real intimacy, I always wanted to have time for her and her body. She layed still on me, breathing slowly in and out. Completely relaxed. I took the opportunity and bit into her back. Not so hard that she bled, but hard enough that the tooth prints would be visible for a while. Again and again I sucked her skin between my lips and teeth to refresh the pretty bruises. Maybe a stupid game, but very important to me. As one leg was angled from her, I discovered the now visible spots on her thighs. My bite wound was clear and easy to see. I let my hand slide down her back, over her butt, and further down to the bite wound to take a closer look. I noticed heat emanating from her female zone, she angled her leg even more, moved a little and pressed her hot labia against my hand.

❝Devil!❞, I growled deeply, pushing her pretty hair aside to bite the back of her neck. Her body reacted quickly to my touch, and my fingers slid a little easier over her labia. She moaned pleasantly and I enjoyed giving her the little massage. Knowing exactly what I could do to her body. After a few seconds she pulled herself vertically onto my body. Only the thin blanket separated my genitals from hers, and I felt her breasts on my chest again. She rested her head relaxed in the crook of my neck, her hot breath whipping against the thin skin. I pressed one hand under her butt again, to pull her a little higher. She automatically moved one leg more to the side as I wrapped my wet fingers around her pearl. She sucked in a sharp breath, as I pressed my other hand under her thigh to massage her wet entrance. Only her hands around my neck kept her in position, her moans were music to my ears. I would never have touched my whores like that, or anyone else. These touches were for her alone and I started nibbling on her shoulder. Her hot breath hit my neck, her moans became a little louder, sounded desperate and her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders, as if she were looking for support. ❝Not my fault!❞, I reminded her, biting her ear.

❝Yes, it’s your fault!❞, she countered and bit lightly into my neck. ❝Why?❞, I asked hoarsely as the arousal inside me ached. ❝Because you arouse me so much!”, she hissed. ❝Because you are manipulating me!❞, I replied a second later and increased the pressure on her clitoris. ❝I... don't...❞, she moaned weakly, already shaking. I penetrated her with just the tip of my finger, maintaining the pressure with my other hand. ❝You do!❞, I growled as one hand gripped my shoulder tightly, the other stayed on my neck and her body trembled and twitched. I bit her neck, which finished her off and I felt her twitch violently against my hands, her moans so hoarse, that she could barely make a sound. Satisfied, I stayed on her wet skin for a few seconds, trying to ignore my stiff member. I kissed the red spot on her neck gently, listening to her heavy breathing. ❝Don't ever get up before me!❞, I said as I pushed her away and quickly stood up.

She didn't have the strength to hold on, her hand slipping from my arm as she tried to wrap her fingers around it. I took my fingertips between my lips with relish and didn't dare turn around. If I would do that now, I would take her. But she was right, I really didn't have any time left. It was during the game, that it occurred to me that Rabban was probably already waiting for me. The ice-cold shower brought relief, but I still avoided looking at her, as I dug out a new pair of pants of mine from her closet. However, I still had the belt on the other pair of pants. ❝Cover your body!❞, I ordered her and I heard that she obeyed me. I felt her eyes on me, saw a smile on her face without looking directly at her. Removing the belt from the trouser loops, I told her that she should get breakfast. They would give her what she wanted anyway. I knew she skipped meals sometimes. ❝Hmm, a croissant with honey. A few pieces of cold fruit, a cup of tea…❞, she mused, completely lost in thought. ❝Sounds good.❞, I answered her and she looked at me questioningly, which made me laugh briefly. ❝You speak your thoughts out loud, my lady.❞ Her cheeks flushed slightly again and she cast her gaze to the floor. For me, however, it was a sign of trust, when she murmured to herself. ❝Yes, you need to eat something too.❞, she said quietly and reached for her bottle of water. I knew she hadn't meant the words to be ambiguous, but my eyes met hers hard. ❝Stop manipulating me!❞, I growled deeply and took the glass bottle from her hands, pulling the blanket from her lower body but leaving her breasts covered. I quickly pushed her legs apart, leaned down and licked up her sweet nectar, sucking on the soft skin to get everything I deserved. I pressed my hand firmly over her mouth, so I wouldn't have to hear her moan. It felt like I wasn't allowed to kill someone who deserved nothing more than to die. And it didn't get any better when I pulled away from her but bit into her thigh one last time. ❝So, I had mine.❞, I said without looking at her. I heard her laughing softly as I stepped out the door. Not knowing that I would be touching her again in about two hours.

I felt a hand on my upper arm and knew immediately that it was my fiancée's. I had already smelled her perfume. His body, uncovered, was being transported away on a stretcher. ❝No one will ever harm you again.❞, I reminded her whispering. There were a few other Harkonnen standing in the hallway, watching what was happening. The smell that came out of the prison was horrible. But I knew that every single cut on his body had been worth it. In the end, I had removed his skin uncleanly and roughly. Since I had also cut off his limbs, he looked more like a raw piece of meat. I cut off his head purely out of protest. I didn't know whether he was still alive at that point. I heard her swallow, she probably wasn't expecting this sight. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, unfortunately the rain had only cooled down the night. Her hair was pinned up, some kind of jewelry holding her hairstyle together. I wrapped my arm tightly around her waist, as she looked away from the piece of meat. She leaned her forehead against my upper arm and closed her eyes. I placed a kiss on her hair. It didn't bother me that we weren't alone. Everyone should know by now, especially after my action in the arena yesterday, that I felt something for the Na-Baroness. I was probably the first Harkonnen in decades, but who would have a problem with that? Except for my uncle.

At that moment, she asked if I knew when he was coming back. ❝From what I know, not today.❞, I replied immediately. She smiled with relief and looked at my bare upper body. Because of the heat, some wore no tops. The bite marks on my shoulder and under arm were clearly visible, as were my teeth marks on her neck. ❝Hmm, would you like to go swimming later?❞, she asked me quietly. ❝I would even be willing to try the cold water.❞, she added, which, made me laugh for a moment. ❝Are you sure you can do this?❞, I teased her. ❝I can at least try!❞, she countered. ❝Otherwise you have to go into the lukewarm water with me.❞, she continued as I saw an equally black bikini through her transparent top. The small stainless steel Harkonnen symbol hanging between her breasts, how pretty. I also saw the two teeth, slightly above her breasts, which were attached to a thin chain link. I examined her work with interest, turning it between my fingers. ❝Good idea.❞, I mumbled and she grinned at me. ❝Is someone saying their thoughts out loud, Na-Baron?❞ I paused for a moment because she was right, but then nodded. ❝Morning swimming is very good.❞, I told her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind me. I didn't feel like waiting until tonight. However, I knew full well that she wouldn't be able to stand the cold water. I also knew that there was a good chance that we wouldn't be swimming at all. Maybe a few strokes at the beginning, but it would lead to something completely different. Our emotions are still fully charged from yesterday. Her fingers cheekily tugged at my waistband and undid the belt, even though we hadn't even arrived yet. ❝Naughty brat!❞, I growled, grabbing her and easily pulling her body over my shoulder, biting her butt. She planted kisses on my back, which I enjoyed more than I would ever admit.

I watched her touch the ice cold water with just one toe. She grinned sheepishly at me and shook her head. ❝I knew it!❞, I said, went up to her and picked her up in my arms. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, her lips kissed my neck as I stepped into the lukewarm, slightly bubbling water with her. I heard another ❝Thank you.❞ from her when we were so deep in the water, that it was up to our arms. She wrapped her legs around my hips and I was almost painfully aware of how much I wanted her, as she pressed against me, making us both moan. How could my ego allow this? I already had removed her bottom garment as I undid the knots on her neck and back, placing it on the edge of the pool, without moving away from her lips. I pressed my knee between her legs to lift her up a little more. One hand on her back, the other on her pearl. Her fingers clawed at the muscles of my upper arm, moaning my name hoarsely as I sucked on the skin of her neck to add more marks. I bit the link chain and gave it a playful tug. She pressed herself even closer to me, wrapping her legs around my waist so tightly, as if she felt like she was drowning. A hand stroked the back of my neck, definitely one of my weak spots. Sighing pleasantly, she placed a few gentle kisses on my neck and collarbone. ❝You are mine, Feyd-Rautha… but please tell me. How did you know it was him?❞ Evil grinning, I shook my head, kissed my property and tasted the honey on her lips.

-> New Taglist open <3 I tag in the comments.

#•ཐི♡ཋྀ•#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha dune #dune part two #dark aesthetic #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen smut #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha smut #house harkonnen #dune giedi prime #Spotify #LB •OneShots•

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flanaganfilm · 2 years ago

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Hello and Howdy Mr. Mike Flanagan! I'm excited to see you here on our humble hellsite. I have so much to say and ask about your netflix shows but for the moment, I want to ask about Doctor Sleep because I enjoyed that movie immensely - it filled me with a pleasant sense of dread, which possibly makes no sense, or a lot of sense.

What was that creative process like? Reconciling book and movie canons, following Kubrick's legacy, working with Ewan and Rebecca and Zahn and everyone else. I'm obsessed with King adaptations and I'm just fascinated with Doctor Sleep.

Alright! Buckle up for yet another long read.

Thank you for your question, and for this opportunity to go back and talk about DOCTOR SLEEP. It's a very special film to me, and a very special time in my life as well.

It all started with a general meeting with Jon Berg at Warner Bros.

The meeting itself started pretty wild - Adrien Brody walked out of the office as I was waiting to go in. Jon introduced us and we chatted for a few minutes, and I was a little out of whack for the rest of the meeting because I had a very potent "wow that was Adrien Brody" buzz going.

We were meant to talk about DC Comics and see if there was anything to do there. I was really hoping to chat about a horror-slanted Clayface movie, and about my favorite superhero: Superman.

Neither conversation went very far. I had just finished GERALD'S GAME, and Jon was a King fan, so he asked about the production. And then he asked if I'd ever read Warners' script for DOCTOR SLEEP.

I had. In fact, I had tried very hard to get a meeting at the studio when the book was first published. Warners owned the rights to DOCTOR SLEEP outright - it was part of their deal going all the way back to THE SHINING - so they immediately began looking into movie options when the book was published. Akiva Goldsman had written a script, and it was one of the first projects I asked about when I signed with WME as a client years before. "That isn't going anywhere," they told me. "I don't think that movie gets made."

They had tried to get me the meeting anyway, but no one at Warners responded. I never got in the room.

But now, here I was. What did I have to lose at this point?

"I did read it," I said. "I'd take a different approach." Jon sat back and smiled. "I love the book, Rose is one of the great villains of all time," he said. I agreed. He probed. "What's wrong with the script?"

"I don't think it follows the book closely enough."

"What would you do?"

"I'd do the book. Streamline it, combine some characters, and you'd have to rethink the True Knot a bit. But otherwise, just do the book. As long as it's a three-hander between Danny, Abra and Rose it'll work. With one big asterisk."

"What's that?"

"I think you have to bring back the hotel. Kubrick's hotel, I mean."

Jon smiled wider. "Yeah, it's a bummer the hotel burned down. King goes out of his way at the start of the book to emphasize that - no Overlook, look no further."

This was my biggest gripe with the book.

I said "When I read the book, all I could see was Kubrick's hotel. I think you do the book as close as you possibly can, until the big fight at the end. Instead of it taking place in an empty field, let it be in the hotel."

Jon: "Do you think King will be upset if you change his ending? You know how feels about THE SHINING, right?"

Me: "What if we gave him THAT ending? What if we let Danny have Jack's ending? Jack sacrificed himself to save his family and destroy the Overlook - why not let Danny do that? Change the ending, sure, but give him the ending Kubrick denied him."

We shook hands, and I called my producing partner Trevor Macy to tell him it was a good general, but nothing was coming out of my DC meeting. By the time I'd made it back to my car, though, Jon had reached out to Stephen King and asked if he'd be interested in me taking a swing at it. Steve, who had enjoyed GERALD'S GAME, said yes.

I was immediately petrified when the call came in that they might want to engage me on a rewrite of DOCTOR SLEEP, with a directorial attachment. I'd have to rewrite the script from scratch, and I kind of felt like they were calling my bluff. But the deal was made and quite suddenly I was adapting DOCTOR SLEEP.

First order of business was to make King aware of what I intended to do. I had just established a tentative relationship with my hero over GERALD'S GAME, and the last thing - the very last thing in the world I ever wanted - was to upset him. We weren't in direct communication, we spoke through agents and emails at this point - but I had to make him aware of the Overlook thing.

I put together a proposal that outlined what I wanted to do - use Kubrick's visual language, and keep the Overlook standing as a setting for the final battle. The initial feedback we got was "no." King really, really didn't like Kubrick's film, and his priority was to adapt DOCTOR SLEEP - not to revisit THE SHINING.

I told him that if he didn't want me to do it, I wouldn't - I'd walk away from the movie before I made something he hated. But as a last ditch effort, I said "imagine the Overlook, decrepit and rotten. And imagine Dan Torrance having walk in to 'wake it up,' the lights coming on above his head as he walks the halls. He finds his way to the Gold Room. To the familiar bar, where an empty glass is waiting for him. And we see a familiar bartender ready to pour for him, saying 'good evening Mister Torrance.' What if that bartender is his father?"

After a bit of a delay, King got back to us. "Do it," he said.

Writing the script was tough. I immediately felt like I had stepped into a very unsafe space. "This is going to piss everybody off," I figured. Kubrick fans would be livid that the movie was being made. King fans might be angry that Kubrick's imagery was being homaged. There was no way to please everyone, so I set about writing the movie I wanted to see most.

It was a slightly nauseous feeling that would stay with me until the movie came out.

I sat down to write with a hardcover copy of DOCTOR SLEEP to my right, and a hardcover copy of THE SHINING to my left. I read both cover to cover, sticking post-its throughout the pages with ideas, or flagging lines of dialogue (or even prose) that I wanted to protect. I managed to put together a basic outline for the movie, which was intimidating and sprawling.

I finally finished the draft and sent it off to Warner Bros. and King at the same time. I was shooting THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE at the time, and thought it would take a long while and a few more iterations before SLEEP would go anywhere, if it ever did.

Warner Bros. shocked us all by coming back with a green light. I've been told that it was one of the fastest green lights in the recent history of the studio, and I believe it.

It happened so fast, in fact, that Steve hadn't read the script yet. I got an email from him on a Friday saying "I read the first half, and I absolutely love it - my son's getting married, so I'll pick it up in a week or so and finish it, but great so far!" I was nauseous... because I knew everything that King was likely to hate was in the second half.

When he finally did finish reading it, about a week later, he reached out and said:

"I think it's really good. In my experience, this is the kind of script studios don't make, because it's TOO good. Hopefully I'm wrong. But no matter how it turns out, thanks for treating me so well. - Steve"

I had the distinct pleasure of being able to write him back and tell him that Warner Bros. had just greenlit the movie. And we were off to the races.

The pressure was enormous. They were spending a lot of money on this movie, and because of the insane box office success of IT: CHAPTER ONE, expectations were very high.

We were given access to Kubrick's blueprints for the Overlook hotel set, which were still held at Warner Bros. While we set about rebuilding the sets, our attention turned to casting.

For Dan, we met with a handful of actors: Dan Stevens, Chris Evans, Matt Smith, and Jeremy Renner all came in to chat about the movie. But Ewan McGregor, who himself was eight years sober (just like Dan), was the obvious choice. "Let's not talk about the Shining yet," he said. "I want to talk about recovery." He was the guy.

For Rose the Hat, we talked with several actresses, including Anne Hathaway, Nicole Kidman, and my dear friend Karen Gillan - but Rebecca Ferguson knocked our socks off on a 90-minute zoom meeting, and the part was hers.

Finding Abra Stone was more difficult - we auditioned more than 900 girls for the part. We'd narrowed it down to a half-dozen very promising and successful young actresses, including Lulu Wilson (who I'd worked with several times before and adore), but Kyliegh Curran's self-tape audition rose to the very top of the pile. Ewan flew to Atlanta to read with our final picks, and when Kyliegh - who lived 15 minutes from our office, was local casting, and had never booked a job before - finished reading, he turned to us and said "I mean it's her, right?" It absolutely was.

When we cast her, we invited her back to the office after school one day to get oriented. The crew was so excited for her that they decorated the production office in her honor.

As the rest of the cast fell in, we started doing our camera tests and getting excited about what we were putting together. My feeling over overwhelming nausea only got stronger.

We started shooting in September of 2018. The shoot was long, but never exhausting. The cast and crew were uniformly pleasant and happy to be there, and after the soul-crushing slog that had been THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, it was a relief to enjoy working again.

Kate was pregnant with our daughter Theo at the time. She visited as much as she could, but finally couldn't travel any more. Being away from Kate and our son Cody was hard, but I'm so grateful that we got to share some time on set together.

All things considered, this was a smooth shoot. But something happened for me while we were making it that would change the course of my life forever.

See, THE SHINING is about alcoholism. King wrote it while in the throes of his own addiction, and it is a novel about the anxiety he felt about what he could potentially do to his family if left unchecked. It's one of the reasons he was so upset with Kubrick's adaptation - all of that was taken away. This is a profoundly personal story for King.

When he wrote DOCTOR SLEEP, he was decades sober. The story of DOCTOR SLEEP is the story of recovery. This was something that Ewan knew very well, and why he was perfect for the part. He knew what the journey felt like. He wasn't alone - there were a number of cast and crew members on this shoot that were sober. In fact, just about all of the actors who played main characters were sober. I was still drinking at the time, though it had already become obviously problematic in my life, I hadn't taken any meaningful steps to change it.

This photograph was taken on 10/12/2018. This was taken on the day I got sober. I quit cold turkey, in the middle of production. I was clinging to vices at the time. Note not only the cigarette in my hand (I was smoking almost 2 packs a day), but the ash tray that had been rigged to the top of my viewfinder by the camera department. (I don't smoke anymore either, just about four years without cigs as well... and I still miss them.)

I had been writing about addiction for a decade. It was all over my work, going all the way back to ABSENTIA. I didn't realize just how much I was writing about myself, and I still can't believe it took me this long.

I vividly recall writing the scene between Dan and Jack at the bar. My wife pointed out to me after the fact that she could see it then, that something was changing in me when it came to drinking. Something was waking up, and I was processing a desperate need to sober up. That scene represents an internal conversation that is profoundly personal to me. It's still my favorite scene of the movie.

I've been sober now for over 4 years. DOCTOR SLEEP helped me finally make that decision. I finished the shoot sober, and came home to my life with a lot of uncertainty and insecurity. But with the unflinching support of my incredible wife, and some amazing friends, my life started to really blossom. It was pretty immediately evident that this was one of the best decisions I'll ever make.

Meanwhile, though, I had to finish DOCTOR SLEEP.

I LOVED the movie we'd made, but I was still terrified of what King would think of it - not to mention Kubrick's estate.

When we finished the cut, I flew to Bangor to screen the finished film for Steve. It was the first I'd meet him in person, and one of the most insanely exciting and humbling days of my life.

We watched the movie together, and I was acutely aware of each and every little reaction he had throughout.

(With Trevor Macy, my producing partner at Intrepid)

When the show as over, Steve turned to me and said "You did a beautiful job." And ultimately, he added that this film had made him warm up to the Kubrick movie as well.

A week later, we heard from Kubrick's estate that they had also loved the movie.

With King's blessing, and Kubrick's family, I felt that nausea finally subside. I said to Kate, "that's it. That's all that matters. Doesn't matter if the movie crashes and burns - we already won the important battle."

And then, the movie crashed and burned.

A group of us went to see it opening night at Arclight Hollywood (my favorite theater). We were just about the only people there. And I knew immediately that we were going to have a bad weekend.

The movie didn't perform very well. Warner Bros. was disappointed, and ended up scrapping the Dick Hallorann movie we were planning, as well as the Overlook Hotel prequel.

I was pretty crest-fallen. I'd spent years tossing and turning over whether audiences would be divided between the King and Kubrick camps. I'd been petrified that they'd be furious, venomous, run me out on a rail... I'd never considered that they'd be utterly disinterested. Apathy wasn't even on my radar.

Steve called me the Monday after opening weekend with some words of encouragement. "I remember when THE SHINING bombed," he said. "And SHAWSHANK. Give it some time. It'll find its audience. It's a really good movie."

That has turned out to be true. While it didn't set the world on fire theatrically, the movie has over-performed on VOD and streaming. And when Warner Bros. released the Directors Cut (I'm still so grateful that they did that), it popped even more.

So yes, to answer your question - the pressures were enormous. I hope this paints a little picture of what it was like. The biggest gift I got out of it, though, was sobriety.

I reached out to King a year later, on my first sober birthday. I hadn't told him I was sober, but it felt like time to do it. I got to thank him. "I never told you this, but I sobered up while we were shooting DOCTOR SLEEP, and I don't think I would have done it without your words. Living in that story, and marinading in the concepts of recovery and redemption made it possible. I just want to thank you."

He wrote back his congratulations, and then mentioned "as it happens, I'm off to celebrate 30 years myself. It only gets better and better."

And he is absolutely right.

DOCTOR SLEEP was the perfect project for me after the nightmare that was HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. I fell in love with making movies again. And I found a new and wonderful gear for my life. It has only made everything better - my marriage, my work, my experience walking around on planet earth. I'm so grateful for it.

When I think of DOCTOR SLEEP, I think of Ewan sitting at the bar and looking at the glass in his hand. "Man takes a drink, drink takes a drink... and then the drink takes the man. Ain't it so, dad."

Ewan understood those words better than I did when I typed them into the script. I understand them much better now.

There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not profoundly grateful for my time at the Overlook. And for myriad of ways my life has been changed because of it.

#doctor sleep #sobriety #behind the scenes #behind the scene photo #ewan mcgregor #stephen king #rebecca ferguson #grateful #warner bros #the shining #featured

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reallyhatethiswebsite · 5 months ago

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lazy power bottom raphael & anal fingering/handjobs

Read on AO3

Her entrance into his office was unceremonious. The devil sat squinting at old scrolls, looking up at her through his pretty lashes when she stood in front of his desk.

“I don't recall requesting to see you,” he said, his tone neutral. Tav was about to take a monumental risk, but she was still riding the high of her recent piece of freedom. Her magic was slowly returning - helped along by the fragments of his power Raphael was sharing - and it felt a little like the soft afterglow of an orgasm. A good orgasm. Constant. Tav hadn't felt alive like this in a very long time. She kept flexing her fingers and toes; he noticed, but didn't comment.

“I want to talk to you,” she said simply.

He was quiet for a minute. Digesting her behavior, and how he was going to manage it. Otherwise his expression was impossible to read. “Then talk.”

It was here, Tav knew, that she had to tread carefully. If she got this right, Raphael would be in her hands - as much as a devil like him ever could be - and she would be the closest to real freedom she'd been…likely since before her cursed magic ever even began to manifest. A depressing thought, but one she didn't linger on.

“I'd like you to stop having sex with Haarlep,” she said. Instantly she could tell it hadn't been what he was expecting her to say. The surprise on his handsome face would've been comical if she wasn't balancing the certainty of her future on the outcome of this conversation. He wasn't surprised for long. He put down the scroll he was reading, planted his elbows on the desk and folded his hands together, where he rested his chin. He looked at her very much like a boarding school headmaster, both entertained and irritated by an unruly child's audacious behavior. Like it amused him to watch someone so beneath him attempt to display authority, but when the novelty wore off he'd get angry.

“Why should I do that?” He drawled. He was humouring her, Tav knew, because he was curious. Just as she'd hoped. “What makes you think you can tell me to do anything?”

“I can't,” Tav shrugged, “I know I can't. But if you want to keep having sex with me, Haarlep has to be out of the picture - or out of your bed, at least.”

“You're giving me an ultimatum? How cute,” Raphael cooed. That he hadn't incinerated her on the spot was an indication of his piqued interest. “I knew you held distaste for my incubus, but I had no idea it ran so deep.”

“This has nothing to do with me not liking Haarlep,” Tav countered. That was mostly the truth. She absently touched the ugly scarring on her naked throat. She'd wear that collar forever, it seemed, one way or another. Raphael's clever gaze followed her. “I don't share my sexual partners, that's all. Not by choice, anyway, and choice is something you said you'd let me have, at least when it comes to this. Unless you're going back on your word…”

“I am not,” the devil growled; his tone suggested he might like to. “Though you'd do well to make sure you don't mistake my clemency for complacency, songbird. Unless you'd like to find out what happens to people who do.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“I'm sure.” Raphael narrowed his eyes at her, looking her up and down from her bare feet to the crown of her head. Tav did her best not to shift, to remain confident against his scrutiny. His next words were blunt. “Why should I choose you over an incubus I've kept for centuries? A creature perfectly attuned to my body, my desires? One who cannot and will not say no to anything I want to do to them?”

At last it was the moment for Tav to make her case. To admit a truth aloud to herself and to the devil who stole her away from a personal hell far worse than Avernus, or any other layer of Hell.

“Because I want you, Raphael. I want you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night in your chambers, the way you looked underneath me as everything else burned…it's driving me crazy. I know it was good for you, too. I can't give you the same precision and experience as Haarlep, but…maybe I can give you something better.”

Raphael's eyes darkened as she spoke, his pupils expanding to swallow the orange of his irises. His countenance changed, even if his placid expression hadn't. It was a subtle shift, but one Tav had become attuned to as she learned him, his mannerisms and habits.

“I must admit, the smell of fire has held quite a…scintillating sentiment for me these past few days,” he said. “Ah, what a delightful impulse buy you've turned out to be…”

Tav felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. There was the caveat. A bitter reminder that she was still infernal property, no matter how well he treated her. She couldn't believe it. In the heat of passion, she'd almost allowed herself to forget. This wasn't about sex, or lust. It was Hell's oldest game: manipulation. If she had fun in the meantime, all the better, but she wouldn't again forget why she was doing this. Her flames were not doused, but tempered.

“So, are my terms acceptable?” Tav pressed. Crossed her arms over her chest. Leaned her weight on one hip.

“That depends, dearest.” The devil did so love negotiations. “If I were to relinquish my, shall we say, dalliances with Haarlep and share myself only with you…my little songbird, my sweet pet…” Tav's breath caught. Those words affected her more than she thought. Raphael smiled. “What would that mean?”

Hook. Line. Time for the sinker.

“Let me show you,” she murmured. “Right here, right now. If you're good for it.”

The devil was deeply entertained, that much was obvious. He clicked his fingers and Tav heard his office doors close and lock. “Hmm… What will you have me do now, pet?”

“Bend over the desk. Clothes off. Please.”

For a moment, he did nothing. His silent stare had weight. Tav wondered if this was the point of no return, if she'd found the line and crossed it. If he was testing her mettle, her conviction, to see if she would falter. If he was simply stunned that she believed she could speak to him that way, that she believed he would actually obey.

Just when Tav thought he wouldn't, when the moment had stretched beyond uncomfortable and she'd almost given into the urge to squirm, Raphael did what she asked. The thrill Tav experienced was substantial. He stood. A simple click and he cleared the surface of his desk; another and he was naked, thick muscles, prominent veins and ribbed cherry-red skin on show, lightly dusted with patches of dark hair. He was softer around the middle than Haarlep's display, and Tav much preferred it. Raphael’s handsome cock was already beginning to fill, his dark pink glans peeking out from beneath his foreskin. He could play at aloofness all he wanted, but his body would always give him away. Still, he was a devil of pride, and there was nothing but smug superiority in the way he positioned himself; forearms braced on the desk, back bent, ass up. His tail swung lazily to-and-fro. He reminded her of his incubus like this, but - and she'd never tell him this - Tav thought he pulled off the seduction much better.

“Well, my songbird,” he purred, equal parts an invitation and a challenge. “Here I am. Show me how you want me.”

As she approached, Tav wished she could hate him the way she hated all other fiends and devils alike. He made it impossible, and that was infuriating, because it complicated so many things. She wished he repulsed her as Lyuris had, but she found Raphael's hellish features quite beautiful. She'd been certain there was nothing beautiful in Hell, but as she smoothed her hands over Raphael's hot skin and he made a quiet noise of approval…

Tav chewed the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Remember why you're doing this.

He was so much larger than her, but like this, she could reach the parts of him she wanted much easier. Her touch drifted over his broad shoulders and down the column of his spine. At its base her fingertips flirted briefly with where his tail sprouted; the skin was baby soft on its underside and Raphael seemed to like being touched there, if the gentle “ah!” he released meant anything. He seemed to like being touched everywhere. Things between he and Haarlep were transactions, Tav had realised, but the devil’s appetite wasn't just for sex. He hungered for touch, warm and given willingly. Affection of the basest kind, as so many devils secretly and selfishly did. Something a demon would never understand. That was how she'd get him.

Tav squeezed his backside in both hands. He had a nice ass. She felt down lower to find his balls, smiling at the way he instantly spread his thighs to allow her access. His sack was hot and heavy in her palm, too big to properly hold. She kneaded what she could instead, firm testes inside rolling against his scrotum's thin, smooth skin. She tugged them gently. Raphael groaned, deep and throaty. Tav's deft fingers slid between his buttocks, parting them enough to feel the twitching velvet of his hairless puckered hole. He inhaled sharply when she rested her thumb on it but made no move to stop her. In fact, he lifted his tail and presented himself further.

“Oil?” She asked. Raphael clicked his fingers once more and a little bottle appeared on his desk. Stroking his hole, savouring his anticipatory twitches, Tav used her free hand to pop the lid from the bottle and scent its contents. “Mm, palmarosa. Smells good.”

“They do know how to make fine things in Waterdeep,” said the devil, distractedly. “If you're willing to shell out substantial gold, of course…ahhh…”

“Of course.” As he spoke, Tav poured a generous helping of the oil on her fingers, and slowly pushed her slick thumb past the tight ring of his anus. The heat and squeeze of his slippery insides was amazing.

“Is that it? More,” Raphael snarled, impatiently pressing into her hand. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing at all.”

Her index finger, then her middle, joined her thumb. Experience told her how to twist them, where to rub, when to scissor. Experimentation would tell her where his prostate was, but until then he was enjoying himself anyway. His head dropped forward, clipped moans escaping him as he tried to fuck himself on her fingers, tried to get more friction, more more more.

“Another,” he demanded raspily, “give me another. Harder.”

“As you wish…master.” She said it purely for the shudder that ran through him, for the way he clenched around her fingers, but Tav would be lying if she said it didn't affect her, too. If she looked down, she could see his clawed toes curling. Her ring finger slipped into his ass, her pinky thumping his perineum with each harsh thrust and rub she gave him. The wet noises and her devil's grunts were obscene.

“Yes…nngh, good pet…such a good pet,” Raphael uttered, unable to stop talking even with four fingers up his ass. “So eager to please me…that's it, yes. Like that…”

With her free hand, Tav reached around to grab his cock, fully erect and leaking precum. To do it, she had to press herself flush against him, the backs of his thighs scorching the fronts of hers through the thin dress she wore. She couldn't resist dropping open-mouthed kisses on his flesh. He tasted of sweat and spice, and the strange ridges of his infernal anatomy felt like soft cartilage in her mouth. He sighed so sweetly when she sucked on them. Her fingers on his cock squeezed and stroked, her intent to reach his glans and smear his precum around for lubricant, but Raphael snatched that hand and brought it to his face. His forked tongue - that dangerous thing of pure silver - licked up the length of her palm and lathered her digits with hot spit, and when he deemed them sufficiently sloppy, he put them right back on his aching prick.

“Fuck,” Tav cursed breathlessly, resting her cheek between his wing joints for a moment. Heart in her throat, blood roaring in her ears, cunt slick.

Remember.

The devil chuckled, but it quickly dissolved into a low, rumbling moan when she made a narrow cage of her hand for him to fuck, to rut and rub his prick into like an animal; and that was exactly what he did, rolling his hips to alternate between pleasuring his cock and spearing himself on her fingers in his ass. Tav felt every flex of his spine, felt every drag of his foreskin and swollen vein and ridge on his cock, felt every clench and spasm of his rectum. Felt it when she found the spot she'd been looking for, soft and spongy beneath her fingertips. The sound Raphael let out as his big body jerked bordered on inhuman; his claws scratched at the wood of his desk, his wings flexed, his tail thrashed.

“There,” he hissed, “right there.”

Tav kissed and bit him as she ruthlessly worked his prostate. He barely noticed, his rutting becoming feverish, snarls and growls mixing with wet gasps, fast and shallow. His cock stiffening further, balls tight, Tav knew he was about to come. She awaited it with vicious satisfaction, wishing only that she could see his face as he unraveled, if his sharp features would twist as lovely as they did the night she rode him in flames.

He finished with a shudder, a guttural choked groan, his head lolled back, wings spread wide. His inner muscles fruitlessly milked her fingers, his fat cock spurting ropes of hot cum all over her knuckles, his chest, the desk. His claws had dug deep gouges in the wood. In the aftermath he quivered, panting. Tav felt as though she couldn't catch her breath, either. Her forehead rested once again between his wing joints where she stayed, still holding his softening cock. It took effort not to sigh with him as she pulled out, giving his hole - bereft, wet, winking - one final gentle rub. Her wrist ached, her cunt ached, her heart ached (but only a little).

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #fanfic #cringe #Do yourself a favour and don't read this lol #will probably delete later

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angelismmm · 1 year ago

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pairings. blade x gn!reader

synopsis. nsfw alphabet w blade gg ez, a-n only becuz im l-l-lazy....

a - aftercare (what are they like after the deed?)

blud lowkey don't give a shit about you if you aren't that close, lmao

but if you are, probably kind of clingy, and really caring. a lot of cuddling, don't tell me i'm wrong cuz i'm NOT.

in some cases, and instances, those.. 'activities' you both have do make him quite exhausted, and most of the time it really just ends with him showering you, cleaning you up, and just being in his embrace (more utc.)

b - body part (their fave body part, of themselves, and their partner's!)

probably for himself; would be his hands. just in general, plus he knows how well they treat you anyway! so why wouldn't it be his favorite? and for you, probably loves everything, doesn't know what he'd do without it, can't decide on one sole favorite, maybe your stomach and probably your neck!

c - cum (cum, anything to do with it)

will cum on your face, if not, he'll come inside, nothing in between.

i dont know how to elaborate here but um, the way his cum be sprayed all over ur face is just so mmmm to him. makes him hard all over again!

d - dirty secret (self explanatory)

not rly dirty, but wants to see you get a necklace with his name on it, or a collar with his name on it, and while he pounds so recklessly, he wants to see that pretty little pendant of his bouncing up and down on your neck, very fond of the idea, but never would actually say it to you, unless you really push him enough.

e - experience (has bro done the deed before?)

maybe? not that experienced probably, but has messed around with somebody before yes!

he knows what he's doing though, don't worry. but overall probably just did it once or twice, barely can call it sex

he probably read about sex before doing it with you, cause he wanted it to go perfectly.

f - favorite position (self explanatory pt2)

just as long as he can see your face, missionary, cowgirl, let it be anything, just as long as he can see how your face just gets so corrupted because of his big cock.

g - goofy (is bro serious about sex?)

very serious, it's almost funny, but it isn't, he's dedicated, and will show it.

but maybe when you both get closer, and are able to be more intimate with each other, in relationship wise, and etc., sure he'll laugh once or twice about a mistake he's done.

h - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

um, yes and no?? i don't really know, i can't rly tell, like maybe thrice a week sure, and the rest of the week he don't really care, it gets messy when you both fuck anyways. and yes, black hair, thats it, idk how to elaborate ab this LMAO

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

gets too embarassed. no he will not show his blushing face, even if he's already inside, probably takes like, a round or two before he does

kind of like, he'd giggle about it and go okay bae

but also would be the kind of guy to go, "i want to be the only man, the only person, in this whole galaxy, this whole universe, to make you feel like this."

j - jack off (master bait :D)

yes, very often, no other choice, i cant say otherwise. likes to imagine its you on that monster ahh cock instead of his hand, be real, he the type to do that. uses imagination wisely, and does it when you're away from him, on a mission, or whatever, needs you 24/7 tho

k - kink/s

degrading you like it's his life's purpose. loves you like it's the calm life he's been looking for since forever, but will degrade you, calls you slut, whore, made for his cock, and all that jazz.

oh but facesitting; super big fan, wants to just be in you, tongue up in your hole, while he just strokes his cock, just needs you to sit on his face so bad

be so fucking honest w me, he probably turned on by the idea of getting pegged, or getting anal. won't admit it out loud, but he wants to get treated like a prince. like just wants you to make him feel so good, that's it.

l - location

doesn't give a fuck if other people hear, will fuck you in an alleyway if he feels like it, or if you feel like it, in the public bathroom <3 but just way prefers being in bed with you, feels more romantic, and gives off more feeling to the moment, in his own opinion, will do whatever you're comfortable with.

n - no no

roleplay, anything related to it, it seriously grosses him out

non con, in general, he's disgusted by it, i know that for a fact.

don't degrade him please, he's heard, and been called all kinds of names before, and it's not like he ever liked them.

don't hurt him, it's clear in his skill he does hurt himself in the process</3, im sure he seriously just wants to love you, and wants it back, his degrading is to a small extent, and it's just in the heat of the moment thing!

#hsr scenarios #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #honkai star rail scenarios #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader #blade x you #blade hsr #blade x reader #honkai star rail smut

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hunterevie · 4 months ago

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Something non-Destiel related for a bit. But it is related to Supernatural.

I’ve mentioned a couple of times my dad died. It's only been 6 weeks and it doesn't feel any easier. I'm thinking about him a lot at the moment, and how engaged he was when I spoke of the show and my convention experiences.

I started watching Supernatural as soon as it aired in the UK. I’m a horror fan so it was right up my street. I normally watched it on my own late in the evening.

There was a day when my dad watched it with me. His first words were ‘oh that’s why you watch it.’ Literally as Jensen and Jared popped on the screen. Obviously, teenage me denied it profusely. I did genuinely watch for the story, but two cute leads also helped.

It was the only time we watched it together before I fell out of love with it in my 20s around S5.

I started watching again when I was in my 30s after Jensen was announced as being on The Boys (I love The Boys!). During the rewatch, I fell in love with Cas and started to understand Destiel.

I attended my first convention in 2023. I had missed out on Jensen being in my home town, so thought I'd take a holiday to Dusseldorf to attend Purcon 7.

I told my dad I was planning on attending this convention, and he remembered it was a show I enjoyed as a teenager. He seemed shocked it lasted so long, and that I was watching again. But happy that I was doing something I would enjoy.

I attended 4 conventions over the last year, and he’d always be the first to ask how they were. Wanting to know if I had a good time, what it was like. Whether the actors were nice. If they said anything about the pieces I got signed. Stuff like that.

The weekend before Purcon 8, I was with my parents. My dad was still in the recovery stage of his radiotherapy and was ill, but pretty bright otherwise. I remember telling him I'd visit again in a couple of weeks and tell him all about the holiday and convention. Hopefully give him something a bit more positive to think about for a little while.

I didn't know that it would be my last conversation with my dad.

He was put into an induced coma 12 hours before I was due to fly to Germany. That morning I had conversations with my mum, who told me to go. That we didn't know at the time what would happen and I would just be at home worrying about him. So I did.

It was on the morning of Purcon 8 that I found out he had brain damage caused by a mistake in A&E. That he wouldn't come back to us and it wasn't even because of the cancer. I was in pieces. I found a corner of the hotel and just sat there crying because I couldn't get the strength to do anything else. I somehow found it when I needed to get my auto with Misha and photos with Misha and Jensen though.

I managed to ask Jensen for a hug, because I needed one after that news. Not Misha though. I love the guy but he still intimidates the living shit out of me sometimes, and I'm convinced he may not like me.

When I did get home my dad was still in a coma and I did as promised. I told him all about my holiday. About the convention. How I summoned the courage to ask Jensen for a hug, and tell Misha about the promotion I got working on something really important politically.

Afterwards, I cried because I knew it would be the last time I would get to talk to him about one of my favourite shows, and my convention experiences. It broke my heart.

Anyway, I don't really know where my point was with all this. I just was reminiscing. If you have read, thank you for letting me get it all out, and here are some photos of my holiday I could never show my dad. (Which is even more gut wrenching, as we did share a love of photography).

If you've never visited Dusseldorf and the surrounding cities, I recommend it. It's so beautiful around there.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #misha collins #jensen ackles #conventions #purcon8 #purcon 8 #purgatory con #jared padalecki #destiel #dealing with grief #tw grieving #tw grief #dusseldorf #germany #koln #mark sheppard

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flowerui · 9 months ago

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♫ we both like apple cider, pgw

fluff & light angst, 4.1k words ୨୧ first fic on this blog! feedback is appreciated!! ^_^ i've had awful writer's block for MONTHS so i hope i havent gotten too rusty,,,

wherein dancing is your favorite way to destress, until a certain gunwook park goes and spoils it all.

꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is a year older than gw, dancer reader, bff hanbin, one-sided enemies to friends to lovers, college au, misunderstandings, set in the us, does this count as forced proximity? light angst, fluff (it gets so cheesy idk what happened to me), drinking/underage drinking ꒱

Dancing had always been your favorite way to unwind. After a long day of classes, practice is like a treat; the mental toll of having to listen to your professors drone on all day, and procrastinating assignments until the night they’re due is easily unraveled by dancing until you can’t feel your limbs—it’s unmatched.

That’s why, despite it being Wednesday (the second worst day of the week), you walk out of your last class with a skip in your step, like nothing could ruin your day.

Nothing except a man named Hanbin, that is.

After changing, you enter the practice room, ready to forget your worries. But before you can begin, you see a paper stuck on the wall beside the door—Hanbin must’ve finally put together the choreo for the solo and duet performances for an upcoming recital for some event on campus (truthfully, you can't be bothered to remember all the details, that's Hanbin's job), and decided on who’d best fit the roles. You’re a little late, so it’s just you who curiously shuffles over to take a look.

Seeing your name under Duet makes you smile until you read your counterpart's name. Gunwook Park.

You find a spot to sink to the floor in the back of the room. Suddenly, you’ve changed your perspective on dancing; it’s the worst thing to happen to you. You regret ever discovering this useless passion of yours, who even needs passions in this economy?!

Hanbin would tell you otherwise, but you believe that you have pretty good ideas.

You’d tried to take an easier route and complain to Hanbin that you absolutely could not work with Gunwook for a duet. But he was adamant about not making any alterations at this point, at least not just because you don’t like Gunwook—what a traitor, what happened to friendship?

Since complaining about your unfair working conditions did fuck all, you came up with a wonderful solution. You get paired with the number one person on your shit list? Just don’t show up to rehearsals. Boom, problem solved. Though it’s easier said than done; you’re a creature of habit, and the disappointment of remembering you can’t destress with dance is depressing.

And, of course, avoiding both Hanbin and Gunwook is a chore.

It’s on day four that you consider, maybe Hanbin is right sometimes. You were only successful in avoiding everything except schoolwork because college kicks everyone’s ass, and finding free time starts to feel like finding a needle in a haystack. But, maybe ditching practice when you live with the leader of your dance team wasn’t your best idea. On Sundays, both you and Hanbin usually end up being home at the same time.

And like an idiot, you forget this detail and trudge out of your room at two in the afternoon (no, you certainly did not just wake up, thank you very much) to find something acceptable to eat.

As you’re rummaging through the pantry, you hear your name called in that tone. The one where Hanbin’s voice sounds mildly shrill and a bit patronizing, the one that lets you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, not your brightest idea—it might take over the number two spot of your top three worst ideas, followed by trying to gaslight a random group of people into believing that Play-doh is edible after you’d had a drink too many at your first college party at number one. (To be fair, you did not expect a twenty-something-year-old man to have Play-Doh on hand and tell you to prove it. Yes, you tried. You vomited on the guy’s shoes.)

Rigidly, you slowly turn to face Hanbin, who has a terse smile on his face.

“...Yes?”

“I thought maybe you hadn’t shown up to rehearsals because you weren’t feeling well, but yesterday, Gunwook told me every time he spotted you on campus, you naruto-ran away.”

“Uh,” you fake cough into your elbow, “Must’ve been someone that looks like me? ‘Cause I have been feeling kind of under the we—”

You shriek and make a run for it when Hanbin stomps over with that creepy hamster puppet you’d given him as a gag gift last year in hand. Eventually, you get cornered and get a creepy hamster puppet thrown in your face. “You can’t just ditch practice because you have some petty one-sided rivalry—or whatever it is—with Gunwook. You’re risking embarrassing the whole team! What are you planning to do, just not learn the choreography?”

“You know it's not a rivalry...” You grumble.

“You’re being childish,” Hanbin sighs, “I’ve already told you that whatever your deal is with Gunwook is some misunderstanding, he’s a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, probably not helping the childish accusation. You’re tired of hearing that about what a good guy Gunwook appears to be because you know what you heard.

Without another word, you stomp off to your room.

If you had any hopes of getting out of going to rehearsal again, they’re promptly stomped on by Hanbin waiting outside of your class when you trudge out.

“Really?” You groan, and walk over to your supposed friend, “You don’t need to escort me.”

“I think I do,” Hanbin crosses his arms, fixing you with a look, like he knows you better than yourself… okay, he does ninety percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean he can act like it. “I’m pretty sure I saw you ready to head in the wrong direction before you saw me.” He says before grabbing your arm and pulling you down the hall.

“I don’t even get what your deal is with Gunwook,” Hanbin finally says when you’re about halfway to the studio, “I know you said you heard him say something… unsavory, but that just doesn’t sound like him at all. I think you should talk to him, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“I know what I heard, Bin…”

“I’m not saying you didn’t hear what you heard, but maybe there’s some missing context.”

You try to consider Hanbin’s words, even as you absentmindedly head into the changing rooms, and reluctantly shuffle into the practice room afterward, you truly do.

But all the rational thinking and breathing techniques in the world cannot quell your ire when you see Gunwook. Calmly walking over and refraining from saying anything uncouth is a true test of mental strength—one that you are quite afraid of failing.

“Hey—” Gunwook rises from his spot in the corner of the practice room to greet you.

“Let’s get started.” You blurt out, aware of how cold and biting your dismissal comes off. To be fair, Hanbin didn’t tell you to be particularly nice, he just insisted you show up.

“Oh, right,” Gunwook’s expression wilts, but he clears his throat and plasters a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure Hanbin already let you know he wouldn’t be here to help us out today—he’s helping Natty with her solo. I’ve got the choreo down, so I should be able to guide you if needed.”

“I practiced at home.” You did. A little bit, it wasn’t easy with the limited space in your cramped—ahem, homey apartment. But practicing a duet by yourself, then giving up after stubbing your toe on every fucking piece of furniture in your home, and practicing it with your duet partner are two different things.

“Oh, that’s good… um, I’ll start the music.”

Your name is followed by an exasperated sigh. With reluctance—because your phone’s home screen is just that interesting—you glance up from your phone, to see Gunwook eyeing you through the mirror.

“Could we try to get through the routine? Maybe without you scratching me this time?” Gunwook gnaws at his bottom lip, sweat beading at his temple. He’s actually been hard at work, practicing while you sat in the corner of the room—essentially sentenced to a time-out after accidentally scratching Gunwook every time you tried to run through the routine with him. Accidentally.

You can’t help the frown that sets on your lips. Only to you, it seems, Gunwook Park is an enigma. When he first joined the team, he seemed nice, and he wasn’t much younger than you, you just never got the chance to properly talk to him. However, now you never want to speak to him, the fact that you have to work so closely with him is nauseating.

Tampering down all the ugly word vomit bubbling in your throat, you mentally repeat Hanbin’s words from yesterday to yourself, ‘You’re risking embarrassing the whole team’. Not only do you find most of your teammates to be more than bearable, but you also you can’t bomb a performance because you were too petty to practice the choreography, so, even though the thought of being so close to Gunwook—having to touch him makes you full body cringe, you suck it up.

“Sure.”

Begrudgingly, you get into position and wait for your cue. As the music starts up for what feels like the billionth time that evening, you miss the many nervous glances cast your way.

Succeedingly, you manage to not cause any more bodily harm, even when you have no choice but to get close enough to Gunwook to the point you cannot look anywhere but into his eyes. The urge to flee strikes, as unease among other odd emotions you will not address churn in your gut, but you deal with it (read: ignore it).

You manage to run through the routine once, then again, and again, and again, until your limbs feel like gelatin and you have no option but to sprawl out on the floor. It occurs to you how much you missed this feeling, you can barely believe you let your pettiness get in the way of it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Turning your head to the side, there’s Gunwook, also sprawled out beside you. Huh, you don’t even have the negative energy within you to loathe his presence in the moment.

“You just did. But you can ask one more thing.”

A goofy grin splits Gunwook’s lips before he turns his head back to face the ceiling, expression shifting a little more seriously. “Did I… was there something that I like did? Or said to upset you?”

Oh. Right. So, you haven’t forgotten your distaste for Gunwook. You feel your good mood sour, as you scoff, and force yourself to finally sit up—your limbs are very much protesting, screaming at you, matter of fact, but fuck them. And fuck Gunwook Park. “Seriously?”

You glance over your shoulder, Gunwook, who sat up shortly after you, only blinks at you curiously, as though he hasn’t got a clue.

“You really don’t know? Do you just talk shit about everyone and that’s why you can’t seem to remember me?”

“What…?” Gunwook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you." You push yourself up off the ground, fixing Gunwook with an exasperated look, "After our performance at orientation in August, you had a lot to say about my skill, and how ridiculous I looked.”

“I don't…?” You watch as the confusion and then the recognition passes over Gunwook’s features, “No, I—shit,” he hangs his head with a groan, which doesn’t serve to dissipate any of your arising confusion. “That wasn’t about you.”

“I heard you say my name, don’t bullshit me.”

“I—okay, I definitely said your name, but it seriously wasn’t about you. There was this, um, character in a film my roommate watched for some project; they were supposed to be a dancer, but they were godawful. I was talking about the character, and I didn’t even think about how they had the same name as you, or about how loudly I was talking about that.”

“Oh,” you say, rather intelligently. You consider the thought that he could be lying, but he looks at you with such earnestness, remorse practically pooling in his eyes, you can’t even entertain the thought for more than a moment.

“Yeah, oh. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you…”

“No, I’m sorry,” you quietly sit back down, anger gone as quick as it arose, and flop back on the floor with a sigh. Having your entire view of Gunwook Park debunked in a mere minute was not on tonight’s bingo card.

“I should’ve—Hanbin kept telling me it was probably a misunderstanding and to confront you, but I just stewed in my misguided hatred. God, Hanbin’s going to be insufferable once I tell him he was right all along.”

Gunwook huffs a laugh, “I’m glad we sorted this out, finally. Um, I guess we should wrap up for tonight since it’s getting late. Can I walk you home?”

“Don’t you live on campus? You don’t have to walk me home if you just have to walk back here…”

“It’s fine!” Gunwook smiles, oddly enthusiastic. Weird, personally, you dread having to walk home after practice. “I want to, and I guess now we can get to know each other? Now that you don’t hate me.”

“Yeah… okay, I’ll grab my stuff.” You sit back up again, as much as you’d like to become one with the floor.

“Okay, cool.”

“Cool.” you can’t help but smile, seeing the wide grin on Gunwook’s face. You’re going to choose to believe the warmth in your cheeks is because you’re still cooling off from rehearsing.

The idea of rehearsing is a lot more palatable now that you don’t despise your duet partner. The actual rehearsals aren’t too bad either… they’re actually kind of enjoyable.

Hanbin was, in fact, very insufferable when you spilled everything that’d happened that day to him. He’d been waiting up for you, sitting on the armchair in your living room, and nearly gave you a heart attack when he flicked on the lamp beside him; like he was your mother and he’d caught you sneaking back in the house.

“Hey, how was class?” Gunwook has taken to waiting for you outside your classes on rehearsal days, you even say hi to each other when you see the other on campus, and maybe talk if you’re not busy.

“Don’t get me started…” you groan, “I have no idea what my professor was on about today, but I thought his jaw was going to unhinge before he finally stopped talking.”

Gunwook chuckles, and grabs your bag from you, cradling it to his chest. “I thought I told you I could carry my bag myself?”

“And I told you that you could try to take it back.”

You did try, and you decided you do not like freakishly strong guys. “Whatever… what about you? How was your class?”

“Didn’t go today…” Gunwook trails off, glancing down at your linked arms. A habit after losing Hanbin in crowds one too many times. It feels nice with Gunwook, though. “Um, my roommate—” he clears his throat before he continues looking forward, revealing his red ears. Oh, that’s cute.

“He kept me up late ‘cause he needed help with his film project that he’s been procrastinating. I ended up waking up at like one-thirty…”

“Really? So, you just came straight here after waking up?” You tsk, choosing to look away from his pouted lips for your sake. “Did you even eat? Let’s stop by this café a few blocks away before we rehearse. It opened last month, Hanbin and I were supposed to check it out, but I think he forgot.”

You’re not blind, of course, Gunwook is, well, objectively attractive (subjectively as well, perchance). With much coaxing, you might’ve been able to admit it a week ago when you hated him. But, his attractiveness is far too illuminated when you’re a mere inches from his face; faced with his distractingly pretty brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Oh God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking cute, and you are so fucking screwed.

Before you can say something so embarrassing you’d have to migrate to another country and assume another identity, you take the initiative to part from Gunwook, carefully backing away, and clearing your throat, “Should we take a break?”

Except that doesn’t even help, because when you sink to the floor to watch YouTube, Gunwook is beside you, smushed at your side to watch whatever you’re watching. You can’t even remember what video you tapped on, but apparently, you’re seven minutes into a video when Gunwook reaches over to pause it.

“Hey, um, one of my friends—his name’s Junhyeon, his frat, Zeta Rho Xi is having a party this weekend. He kinda roped me into going, and I was just wondering if you were free…? I would, um, it’d be cool if you could stop by.”

Parties haven’t been your thing for a long time; you tried to party freshman year, since people seemed to go on about the college parties. You just couldn’t get super into it, plus only things like the Play-Doh incident came from parties… and that’s why you’re not sure why you say, “Yeah, no, I should be free. I’ll check it out.”

You aren't even free, you have an essay you’ve written approximately two sentences for that happens to be due Monday. But the smile on Gunwook’s face makes agreeing feel like the right choice.

Immediately upon stepping inside, you remember why you hate parties. One, you lose Hanbin instantly. Two, trying to push through a bunch of sweaty, drunk people (who are surprisingly sturdy) is a pain in the ass. And three, it’s loud, you already feel like you need a drink. Or maybe three.

You manage to make it to a mostly empty kitchen, and at that point, you’ve lost any motivation to go search for Hanbin or even Gunwook. For the most part, you’ve given up caring about being ‘lame’, so, you’re perfectly content sitting in the kitchen on your phone at a party while sipping on possibly the worst quality beer you’ve tasted in your twenty years of life.

It’s maybe thirty minutes until you finally look up from your phone at the call of your name over the ear-damaging volume of music.

Hanbin stumbles into the kitchen, using Gunwook as support. You can make out your friend’s flushed cheeks, even in the dim lighting, you have no idea how he’s gotten drunk so fast. “There you are! I found Gunwookie, it looked like he was waitin’ around for you, ‘cause he was just in a corner lookin’ around… didn’t you guys exchange numbers?”

“I already told you I forgot to ask…” Gunwook mumbles.

“Oh,” Hanbin lets go of Gunwook to slide up beside you, “Hey, did you know that, um—” Gunwook rushes over to slap a hand over Hanbin’s mouth, are they both drunk? It’s more difficult to tell with Gunwook, his cheeks always look pink…

Hanbin removes Gunwook’s hand with a glare, “Don’t interrupt me,” he chides, as sternly as he can while drunk. “Anyway, ‘m so glad you two figured things out. I hope Gunwook tells you about his massive heart boner for you.”

Hanbin makes it probably ten times worse by continuing, “He’s—he’s had such a big crush on you since like, um, since like the millisecond he joined the team. But this whole time you thought he was mean to you, isn’t that silly?”

What isn’t silly is the look on Gunwook’s face, he looks positively mortified.

“...Okay, Bin, I think you’re ready to go home already,” you smile tersely, side-stepping the topic for now, maybe forever actually. “Gunwook, can you help me with him?” You ignore Hanbin’s slurred protests. It must take a moment for Gunwook to recoup before he’s at Hanbin’s other side, helping you pull the drunkard up.

You avoid looking in Gunwook’s direction, despite the fact you can feel him burning holes into the side of your head. Of course, there’s no avoiding the conversation—inevitably, you’re going to have to talk to Gunwook about what Hanbin said, but maybe you can get out of it tonight…?

It’s not that you’re particularly afraid… okay, well, you are, except it’s just unnecessary anxiety. Now you feel better about admitting to yourself that you’re interested in Gunwook. But what if Hanbin’s drunk rambling was just drunk rambling, and it was all nonsense? Well, Gunwook probably wouldn’t seem so nervous if that were the case, but maybe he’s nervous because he just doesn’t want you to be under the impression that he—

“Oh, hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for Hanbin…”

“Oh, Hao, hey.” you mentally thank Hao for unknowingly rescuing you from spiraling into your annoyingly irrational train of thought.

“Do you want me to take him off your hands? We were planning to ditch before he disappeared.”

Okay, time to put on your big person pants and be an adult. “Yeah, thanks.” Handing Hanbin off is pretty easy, the man completely unbothered that he’s thrown two of his protégés for a loop (he’ll probably feel a lot worse about it tomorrow, especially when he’s hungover). What’s less easy, is being left with Gunwook.

“Well, since Hanbin aired everything out…”

“Right, yeah. We should talk, maybe outside?”

Gunwook nods, leading the way to the back door, you follow closely behind him. As not to lose him in the clusters of people, and maybe just because you want to, you grab onto his arm.

Outside, your eardrums thank you for finally getting out of there, though your nervous heart is another story, rattling against your ribcage incessantly. Warily, you avoid looking at Gunwook, distancing yourself a good few feet away from him, “So…”

“I like you,” Gunwook blurts as if he won’t get another chance to say so, “like a lot. I initially joined the team ‘cause of you actually, I hadn’t even danced since middle school. But you were so—watching you on stage at orientation felt so… enchanting.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at Gunwook’s flattery, and he only continues, “I thought you were perfect, so obviously I immediately signed up for the dance team, even though I wasn’t even sure if I was any good at it anymore, just so I could have an excuse to see you. Only for me to never gain the courage to even talk to you…” Staring at the wooden planks of the porch beneath your feet, you see Gunwook’s beaten-up Converse come into view, urging you to look up again.

“Gunwook, I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel anything like that for me, I just can’t let the what-ifs get in the way of me trying anymore.” Oh, how could you not feel something for him? Surely anyone could fall for him just by staring into his pretty brown eyes.

The weird feeling in your gut, which must be those butterflies people talk about, amplifies, you think you’d have to be a fool if you didn’t feel something for Gunwook Park. “I don’t… not feel something,” you hastily avert your gaze, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I am interested in you. I, um, would be open to exploring that.”

“I understand—wait, you… really?”

You look up in time to see the overjoyed grin split Gunwook’s lips. It’s infectious, you can’t help but mirror his smile, laugh tumbling past your lips, “Yes, you dork. You better sweep me off my feet.” You playfully shove at his shoulder.

“I will,” Gunwook grabs your wrist before you drop your arm, thumbing at the inside of it, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I…” You aren’t free, remember that pesky essay of yours? “Yeah, I am.” Oh, well, you suppose it can wait; likely until tomorrow night, when you finally open your laptop at eleven-thirty at night, when it happens to be due at midnight. You happen to work great under pressure!

“Perfect, can I pick you up at your place at two?”

“Sure, are you gonna remember to ask for my number this time, though?” You tease, making a ‘give me’ motion with your free hand.

Gunwook’s cheeks somehow get pinker, as he finally lets go of your wrist and retrieves his phone from his pocket, handing it over with the new contact screen open. Quickly, you type in your number and then your name, cheekily adding a heart beside it.

“Can I walk you home? Or, uh, if you wanted to go back to the party, that’s fine too…”

“Nah,” you’d rather do just about anything else than go back into that mess, you’ve had enough parties for the rest of your college life, “I’m pretty tired, and I have a super important date with a great guy tomorrow.”

With a coy smile to match Gunwook’s shy one, you cozy up to his side and link arms with him, “Let’s go?”

You’d still consider dancing to be a great way to unwind—still one of your favorites, it's just been demoted to second place.

Nothing ebbs away your stress like Gunwook popping into your room with your favorite food after you’ve been staring at your laptop screen for hours as if you were hoping your assignments would finish themselves. Or his hugs—always so warm, it’s like hugging an oversized stuffed bear. Or just… him.

Unrivaled after several years, dancing has finally met its match: Gunwook Park.

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separatist-apologist · 7 months ago

Text

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Azriel couldn’t say what woke him. Something was wrong—Azriel could taste fear in the back of his throat. It was enough to sit him up in bed, one hand flung out for Gwyn. Her side of the bed was empty and cold, telling him she’d been gone long enough for her warmth to evaporate, too. The mating bond was still new to Azriel—and yet he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to ring like an alarm bell in his chest.

Dressing quickly, Azriel made his way into the living area to find it utterly wrecked. With a deep inhale, Azriel noted that Gwyn’s scent was stronger than the underlying vanilla one just beneath…and something spicy and hot lingered just at the door.

Eris.

A growl rumbled in his throat even as he tried to reassure himself that she’d likely just walked off with the Autumn Court heir. That seemed like the kind of thing she’d do given how unconcerned for her own personal safety she was. Azriel swallowed, hand hovering over the handle of the door. In his mind, he saw that flame licking over her fingers.

Had Eris recognized something in her? Some magic that belonged to his family, some claim he thought he might have? Azriel swore, right then and there, that he’d kill Eris if he so much as shot Gwyn a dirty look, Rhys’s politics be damned.

Just outside the door, Azriel found a scene far worse than anything he’d been imagining. Guards swarmed the body of the prince, still smoking and charred from whatever had touched him. It was Eris, he lied to himself. He knew it wasn’t. Standing there, the guards all turned to look at him and Azriel knew there would be no easy escape.

Which was why he allowed them to “escort” him to the dungeons before helpfully disarming him. He wasn’t alone—in the cell that was opened for him, a familiar blonde was curled up on the floor, knees touching her chin. It was the Day Court scholar, rumbled and streaked with dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

“Where is Helion?” Azriel asked, not bothering to introduce himself.

“Gone, if he’s smart,” she replied in a sad voice. “They all are.”

They all are.

“The female I came with—”

“Gone,” the blonde informed him in that despondent voice. “Eris took her.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Azriel demanded, turning the full force of the spymaster onto the female before him.

“Because I saw him, you overgrown bat,” she snapped in response. “He shattered the wards in the palace—letting them think I did it—and raced off to Prythian before he could be blamed for what he did to the prince.”

“I’ll kill him,” Azriel swore, running a hand through his hair.

“You can get in line,” she replied, words dripping with fury. Azriel didn’t bother responding to that. Where the fuck were his shadows? He wasn’t used to such silence, to not knowing everything happening around him. Had they all left with his mate? And would he be mad if they had?

Maybe a little.

Azriel wasted the morning pacing back and forth, planning his escape. He’d take the Day Court female with him, deposit her before Rhys, and then march himself into Autumn, consequences be damned. In his mind, the whole thing was a little glorious—not only did he avenge Mor by killing Eris, he killed Beron, too. Perhaps Lucien would be named the new High Lord which seemed acceptable enough, though still irksome.

He hated to see the people he disliked get something good, after all.

“They’re going to torture answers out of us,” the blonde whispered when the sounds of metal scraping against metal filled the otherwise gloomy darkness. “I’ve never been tortured before.”

Pity squeezed at him. “Whatever secrets matter to you, guard them—weave truth with lies and no matter what, don’t tell them anything to make the pain stop.”

“Why not?”

“Because the pain will only intensify,” he promised, thinking of his own methods. “If they’re going to kill us, nothing we say will convince them not to. Might as well take your secrets to your grave.”

That didn’t make her seem to feel any better. In truth, Azriel couldn’t focus on this female. Not when the door was wrenched open and the two were dragged out by guards wearing chain metal gloves. The female dug in her heels, kicking and thrashing which was, in Azriel’s opinion, a waste of time and energy. She’d wear herself out before the actual torturing even began.

Azriel was joined by all but one of his shadows just in time for his wrists to be shackled over his head.

Eris took Gwyn, they whispered frantically. Azriel needed to free himself to get to her—and in order to free himself, he needed to be alone. He met the blank, bored stares of the Fae males before him and he knew, without needing to ask, that he was going to be suspended like he was for hours.

Grit your teeth, he told himself, remember you have had worse.

Nothing King Gunnar subjected him to could be worse than what he’d endured at the hands of his fathers. And if it was, it certainly wasn’t worse than what he’d been subjected to at the hands of Rhysand’s father. Azriel could withstand immortal levels of pain without cracking and as the door swung shut behind his torturers, Azriel opened a long forgotten door in his mind.

It was where he’d once hidden as a boy, shielding his mind from the pain of his body. He could get through anything so long as he had that little retreat, along with the reminder the pain was merely temporary.

No questions were asked at the beginning. Azriel had been prepared for that. Better to merely hurt for pains sake and then, once the subject was desperate, begin asking casual questions. What Azriel hadn’t expected was the King himself to enter, drinking in the sight of his sweaty, bloody form. The only thing keeping Azriel on his feet was sheer will—the restraints holding his arms up were useless at that point.

Were he to slump, he’d break both his wrists and dislocate his shoulders. Azriels shadows, hidden in the dark, swarmed in that unseen space, whispering a warning only he could hear.

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t trust him—

Azriel didn’t need to be told as much.

“Your…friend…was she? Gwyneth? Killed my son.”

Azriel didn’t react at all, unwilling to betray Gwyn at all. If she had killed Kai—and he knew she hadn’t—Azriel assumed her reasoning made sense. And if her reasons had been nonsense, he still would have stared that ancient male down and dared him to do his worst.

Azriel would go to his grave before he betrayed his own mate.

“Tell me where she is, and I’ll release you to your lord.”

Azriel inclined his head to the side and then, as Gunnar approached, spat on his boots. Blood splattered against the crisp white of his trousers, filling Azriel with animal pleasure. Next time it would be Gunnar’s blood, and not Azriel’s, that decorated his clothes.

He merely needed a reprieve.

“Do you hear that?” Gunnar asked, ignoring the insult as the Day Court female’s screams echoed around them. “I don’t think she’ll hold up as well as you have. You can do this for days, can’t you?”

Again, Azriel refused to respond.

“You know, I heard a rumor about your kind,” Gunnar continued, sidestepping Azriel. He reached for one of his wings before Azriel could stop him, slicing with a knife held in his hands. The pain was white hot like a branding iron was taken to his flesh and his mind. He couldn’t help but jerk away, causing the metal rings to clank loudly overhead.

“I guess what I heard was true,” Gunnar said, watching red blood streak down the onyx wings. “Would they grow back if I cut them off?”

Azriel’s heart splattered at his feet. No, they wouldn’t. If Gunnar ordered his men to cut Azriel’s wings at the root, he’d spend the rest of his life without them, wishing he did. The thought of being an Illyrian without wings—of the disgrace—made bile pool in his stomach. Before that moment, Azriel hadn’t been afraid, only angry.

But now he was scared. Losing his wings was worse than death. For the first time in his life, Azriel was tempted to beg—to plead.

And still, he refused.

“I’ll need a bigger knife,” Gunnar mused, looking at the rather pathetic blade in his hand. “Maybe yours?”

Nothing. Azriel didn’t care if Gunnar had truthteller, didn’t care if he decided to hack at Azriel’s wings. He focused himself with the reminder that if Rhys knew what was happening, he’d be coming. And the moment Rhys and Cassian and Feyre and Nesta descended on this place, they’d leave it in ruin. They would come.

They would come.

Even for him. Even though he didn’t deserve it, even though he’d made a mess of everything. Azriel lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, willing his traitorous heart to slow.

“You could avoid all this, of course,” Gunnar continued, ever reasonable even with Azriel’s blood splattered against his clothes. “Tell me where your female companion has gone.”

Azriel nodded his head, beckoning for the king to come closer. Gunnar did—the utter fool. Azriel couldn’t help his laugh when he smashed his face against Gunnar’s, forehead colliding with the kings very fragile, very breakable nose. Gunnar swore, stumbling back with one hand covering the injury as Azriel threw his head back in a hoarse laugh.

He’d die before he told the Montessere royals anything about Gwyn.

“You’ll regret that, brute,” Gunnar snarled, beckoning for the heavy door to be opened. Azriel let his laugh trail after the king like one of his shadows, silenced only when the heavy, iron door slammed shut behind him. Mercifully, Azriel was alone.

He counted in his head, forcing himself to go slow even when he wanted to race through the numbers and free himself. He wasn’t going to show his hand only to end up shackled all over again. When he emerged, it would be like death itself.

And Azriel’s retribution would be vicious in its intensity.

No one came by the time he finished.

“Now,” he whispered to his shadows. They darted and swirled around him, slipping through the cracks of the locks holding him. He heard them whispering to each other before the locks clicked and he was freed, knees buckling beneath the full weight of his body. It was tempting to sink to the floor and regain himself and Azriel knew if he did, he might not get back up.

All he wanted was to sleep. His wing burned from the wound, still knitting itself together. He’d be able to fly on it, but it would be excruciating. Telling himself he’d suffered far worse, Azriel pushed his way into the dungeon to follow the sounds of pleadings and screams. Helion might have been content to leave this female behind, but Azriel was not.

“Cover me,” he murmured, fading into the darkness as his shadows obscured his form. All Azriel would allow himself to focus on was escape, forcing him to push all thoughts of Gwyn aside. She would be fine, he told himself. He’d trained her well. And still, fear tried to grip his heart, icy cold and unyielding. She’d suffered enough and he’d sworn no more harm would come to her.

He’d failed her already. No wonder she couldn’t feel the bond between them. Maybe she recognized she deserved better than a male that couldn’t even keep her safe. Shaking his head, Azriel banished the thought. There would be time enough for her to break their mating bond but for now, she was stuck with him whether she liked him or not. All he needed to do was get out and find her—and bring her home.

But first, a little bloody revenge. Peering into the other holding cell, Azriel found the blonde hanging from the chains by her wrists, blood pooled around the white of her dress. She was merely whispering, “please stop,” over and over through raw, chapped lips. Even Azriel would have quit by then, satisfied she knew nothing of use. Now they cut at her simply for the sake of hurting her—a lazy brutality Azriel couldn’t abide by.

He didn’t need his dagger to kill the three males inside. All Azriel needed was his own hands, darting from the shadows to rip open their throats in a violent display of fury. The Day Court female didn’t scream, lifting her head to watch with what he swore was approval. Perhaps this was revenge for her, too—though in truth, Azriel only thought of his own anger, his own retribution.

“We need to go,” Azriel told her once three headless bodies lay broken at his feet. He didn’t dare look at the heads, uninterested in seeing the bloody pulp that remained. There was enough tissue splattered against the wall, besides. No one would be getting up anytime soon.

“Arina,” she whispered, crumpling into his arms once she’d been freed. Azriel merely hauled her up against his chest, undeterred by her weakness. He merely strode out, snatching up his dagger from a nearby table as he did. It was almost laughable how easy it was to get outside, slipping through a servants door in the wall straight into a courtyard.

Of course, the sight of the pair of them sent everyone into a frenzy, but Azriel was as quick as he’d ever been. Groaning slightly, he kicked off the ground before anyone got within a hundred yards of him, airborne before they could scramble for arrows. He’d told himself he was prepared for the pain, for the strain his injured wing felt beneath their combined weights.

He needed only to get far enough away he could winnow.

“You’re falling!” Arina cried, arms around his neck.

“Stop talking,” Azriel ordered, aware his voice sounded disoriented. With his vision blurred at the edges, Azriel took them higher into the clouds, blinking against the blinding sun overhead. Wind pushed them along, helped by the female he carried. He wanted to thank her for blowing it against his dripping face but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

They weren’t going to make it.

Screwing up his face, Azriel thought of home. He thought of Rhys and Cassian drinking on the steps to the River House, laughing in a heap over some inappropriate joke. He saw Feyre holding Nyx who fisted at her hair, a smudge of blue paint on her cheek. Mor was there, grinning ear to ear while Amren scowled, telling Mor of all the ways he, Cass, and Rhys had been a disappointment in recent days. He saw Nesta sitting just inside, one leg crossed while the other bounced, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

And he saw Gwyn, perched on the edge of Nesta’s chair, talking a million miles a minute to Emerie, who was seemingly the only person in the world who could understand every word spilling from her lips.

Home. Azriel thought about home.

Take me home.

Shadow enveloped them both, sending them careening wildly before they collapsed against grass in a graceless heap. Blinking, Azriel recognized the hazy mountains half hidden in fog in the distance. And he recognized the female voice crying his name.

“Azriel,” Feyre cried, her soft hands touching his face. “Get Rhys—bring me the High Lord—!”

Her words blurred along with his vision and try as he might, Azriel couldn’t get any of the words out. He could feel her soft presence in his mind, could hear her speaking to him.

Show me what happened, Az, Feyre murmured lovingly, fingers still caressing his cheek. Let me in.

Rhys would have merely shattered Azriel’s defenses but Feyre, ever cognizant of what it felt like to have no choice at all. She’d let him take his secrets to the grave if he wanted and would have advocated for Rhys to leave him be, as she’d done so many times before. Azriel let her in gratefully, rolling onto his back while Feyre pressed something wet to his lips.

It was blood.

He tried to push her away but the High Lady ordered, “Drink,” and Azriel’s body complied before he could balk. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Azriel remembered her blood was the very same that ran through Thesan and Feyre was trying to heal him. He was too focused by her presence in his mind, flipping through the day's events frantically.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered just as she stumbled into Azriel’s memories with Gwyn. He snarled without meaning to, elicting a louder, angrier roar from the descending High Lord.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Feyre breathed as Rhys dropped to his knees beside them. “I should have—oh, but Az that’s so wonderful—I should have asked first, I didn’t know, didn’t think…”

“I want her back,” Azriel whispered, his consciousness fading. Forcing himself to look Feyre in the eye, Azriel said, “I want her back.”

It was the last thing he remembered.

GWYN:

“You don’t have to do this, Eris,” Gwyn said for what must have been the millionth time that day. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything.”

“Liar,” Eris replied smoothly, fingers grazing the small of her back as he pushed her forward.

“You’ll regret this,” she warned, certain Azriel must be awake by then. Was he looking for her? Did he even care?

Yes, she thought firmly. Even if he didn’t know what she was to him, Gwyn was certain her disappearance would matter to him. Even if his only fear centered around Nesta’s fury, Gwyn believed Azriel would come for her.

“You’re not the only one with loved ones on the line. The easier you make this, the faster we can be done with the entire thing,” Eris warned, stopping her before two massive, wooden doors carved with an image of a terrifying dragon bellowing fire. The Vanserra crest? She couldn’t ask Eris, though she wouldn’t have even if she’d had the time. The only thing Gwyn wanted to ask Eris was where his heart—if he had one—was so she could rip it from his chest and shove it down his throat.

Eris was bringing her to Beron Vanserra. Seated atop a massive, hollowed out oak tree, the High Lord of Autumn was a terrifying sight. The rest of his sons stood just beside him, stairstepped in height leading up to the dais their father was perched atop. The Lady of Autumn sat beside him in a smaller, less ostentatious throne and crowned in burnished leaves wrapped around her pretty, auburn hair.

She leaned forward when Gwyn was pushed in, russet eyes shining. Gwyn searched her features for a moment, looking for anything of Catrin only to be left wholly empty. Their mother had always said Catrin came from Spring—moody and turbulent—and Gwyn from Autumn—firey and brash. She could see herself in the Lady of Autumn which did nothing to temper the fear running rampant through her.

Beron Vanserra didn’t move when Gwyn arrived at the foot of the dais. She wasn’t so rebellious she couldn’t bow, a show of self-preservation rather than deference. Eris’ knee hit the wood floor beneath them, eyes averted while Gwyn remained on her feet.

Rhysand was her High Lord—there was no law that said she was required to reside where her ancestors had, and no law that forced her to acknowledge a foreign High Lord as her own. Beron must have wondered, too, because he barked out, “Kneel.” The punch of magic made her chest ache though Gwyn was able to withstand the onslaught and remain as she was.

“Why am I here?” she asked, terrified to look up.

“My sister,” the Lady of Autumn breathed to the room of Vanserra’s, “had a son.”

Gwyn only sighed.

“He died in the war,” the Lady continued, her voice rich with her regret. “They all did. I thought they’d all been lost and then Eris said…”

Gwyn dared to look up at her, wishing this could be a happier reunion. All she could think about was Azriel—did he think she’d left him? That the night they’d spent together meant nothing to her and she was merely bored? The fear she might hurt him clawed at her chest, making her desperate to return to him. Maybe once things were settled on the continent and with her mate, she could return to Autumn and sort the entire mess of her lineage out.

“You’re certain she was Cyra’s?” Beron Vanserra asked his wife, his voice softening around the edges.

“I’m certain.”

“Then she stays,” Beron announced, not bothering to consult with Gwyn at all. A scream all but erupted in her throat, swallowed when Eris’s hand snaked beneath her dress to squeeze her ankle in warning. Shut up, he warned silently. Gwyn did as she was told, daring to look up at the High Lord. “At least until we can make a proper exchange for her. Give her comfortable accommodations and instruct her on how females conduct themselves within the walls of the Forest House.”

And that was that. Gwyn was swept out of the room by Eris, fingertips pressed into the small of her back. Neither of them spoke until they were back in the hall, and when Gwyn attempted to tell Eris where he could shove his hospitality, he said, “Watch your mouth.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” she replied, petulant and frustrated.

“I know that look on your face,” Eris replied smoothly, running a hand through his perfect hair. “You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you for what? Kidnapping me? Holding me captive while you try and hold your brother captive? Rhysand will never—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Eris hissed as they passed a group of silent courtiers, all staring at the pair. Fine, she thought, privately seething. Gwyn said nothing until Eris all but shoved her into a bed chamber she didn’t bother observing. All she saw was a glass door leading toward the woods and the escape route she’d take the moment Eris stopped talking.

“You can’t say whatever you want here. People are listening,” he told her, fingers curled around her upper arm as he led her deeper into the room. “You can do nothing but sit here and wait. If you do what I know you’re thinking about, twelve dogs will rip you to pieces before you ever get close to another Court's borders. There won’t be enough pieces to burn.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Gwyn threatened, rounding on him.

“You can get the fuck in line,” Eris retorted hotly, cheeks flushed red with anger. “I’ll be dead before you ever get your turn. I saved you from the wrath of Montessere.”

“Why?”

Eris merely stared her down. “My reasons are my own. There is no where to go—”

“When Azriel finds out—”

“He can get in line, too. Right behind you,” Eris all but snarled, turning his head angrily. “I left things behind, too. People I—” he took a breath rather than betray himself. “All in due time.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care,” Eris replied in that irritating way of his. “If you make me chase you down tonight, you’ll live to regret it—”

“No, Eris Vanserra, you will live to regret bringing me here,” she retorted, rising to her full height. It didn’t intimidate him in the slightest but Gwyn meant every word she said. She had never bowed before the whims of more powerful men, even if it meant endangering her own life. She wasn’t about to start now, either. Eris had taken it upon himself to get her out, but Gwyn needed to go back. She needed to get Azriel and she needed answers.

What had that creature been? There had been no time to truly think about it given how quickly everything happened and yet Gwyn knew she was close. It had been that damn Day Court scholars fault, really—if she hadn’t stolen Gwyn’s cipher, Gwyn would have gotten back into bed with Azriel and everything would be fine.

Maybe even Kai would be alive.

“I already regret bringing you here,” Eris grumbled, turning his back on her. “Don’t try and leave, Gwyn. I swear to the Mother above, you will not make it out alive and I do not want problems with Night.”

Eris turned to leave, confident he’d gotten the last word. Gwyn wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Eris didn’t know to be afraid of her—yet. But she knew he was afraid.

“He’s my mate,” she whispered, delighted when Eris froze, his whole body going taut. “And when he finds you…”

Gwyn didn’t need to say. Eris merely glanced over his shoulder, strange look on his face. “Then he knows how I feel right now.” Eris still got the last word, cryptic as it was. Gwyn didn’t have it in her to care, either. Whatever inner turmoil he had wasn’t her problem. Maybe she would have cared had he come to her as a cousin interested in reconnecting rather than kidnapping her. Gwyn merely waited, deciding she’d do what Eris had warned her not to, and make a break for it.

Pacing, Gwyn waited for the sun to set. She ignored servants who slipped in and out, turning down her bed and fussing with her clothes and hair in an attempt to make her look nice. Gwyn was impatient with the whole affair—how did people like Eris stand it? She imagined this was the life Nesta had once been used to. Gwyn could picture imperious Nesta here, looking down her nose at everyone and making even the terrible Eris Vanserra shake in his expensive, polished boots.

No one had ever waited on her hand and foot—she’d always been responsible for herself. As nice as it would have been to be doted on, she didn’t think she could stand a lifetime of people bowing and scraping.

The moment the moon replaced the sun, Gwyn yanked open the door that led outside. Cool air curled around her face, the smell of it all wrong. Perhaps her grandfather had lived here, and some memory of this place lingered in her blood. It wasn’t strong enough to make her want to stay, or to feel like home. She felt like an intruder, an outsider trapped among the rot. She was a shadow among the leaves, ancient among new death.

And she wasn’t alone. Gwyn made it to the treeline with massive wings spread themselves out, blotting out the sliver of moonlight spilling among the grass.

Emerie grinned at her as Nesta appeared, sword casual over her shoulder. “Heard you needed a rescue.”

Gwyn’s relief was palpable. “You found me.”

“Did you doubt us?” Nesta asked, pulling Gwyn into a hug.

“Never,” Gwyn said, blinking rapidly against the hard leather covering Nesta’s shoulder. “But I was starting to worry.”

“Well, cast your worries aside because the cavalry has arrived,” Emerie said, resting her chin atop Gwyn’s head.

“Will you take me home?” Gwyn asked them.

Emerie and Nesta held out their hands and Gwyn took them like a lifeline.

“Let’s go.”

#gwynriel #now i get to nap

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virgo-dream · 1 year ago

Text

One of Their Own 🏳️‍🌈✨

dreamling / queer joy / fluff / first kiss / 3,6k words

summary: Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

author’s note: this fic, this pairing and this fandom all mean the world to me, so I thought it was fitting to bring it back for pride month!

I’m incredibly thankful for finding Sandman when I did. Since joining this fandom, I’ve made wonderful friends and became part of a community of bright, kind, loving and loyal queer people that I would not trade for anything. I’ve learned more about my community and about myself, and I wave my ace/agender flag proudly now. This fic was written in a moment in my life where I felt hopeless and alone. Now, things couldn’t be more different. Happy pride sandfam! 🏳️‍🌈✨

read here or on ao3

Dream doesn’t get it at first. He never really did get it, but only attributed it to the need humanity had for labels, for packing things into boxes and saying this goes here and that goes there. Sometimes, it leads to this goes to heaven and you go to hell. It seemed to be a very common one, too. He was beyond that; his name said it all, Dream was endless. Not he nor she, not man nor creature, he was all there was to be and the nothingness beyond it. Gender and sexuality need not apply.

Still, it meant so much to Hob, that he’d have dreams about it. Nightmares too, for nights on end, and even if Dream begged Hob to allow him to take them away, Hob always declined, always braving through them. “If you take them, I’ll forget how much it all means. I’ll forget why I’m still fighting.”

They sat at the New Inn one afternoon, while Hob graded papers and Dream had a cup of chamomile tea, but his eyes couldn’t help but focus on a shiny pin on Hob’s jumper shaped like a flag, the shades of pink, purple and blue a spot of proud colour in Hob’s otherwise earthy colour palette.

“It’s the bisexual pride flag.”

“Hm?” Dream’s eyes darted up to meet Hob’s, tilting his head slightly. He wasn’t sure if he should feel bad for being caught, because he wasn’t sure what he was looking at in the first place.

“The pin. I wear it for my students, but also for myself. The kids feel safer I guess, knowing they have at least one of their own in the faculty. Can’t say it doesn’t make me feel good too.”

Hob has a particular tone to his voice that makes Dream’s heart sing in tune to its melody. It’s a fuller sense of self, maybe more than Dream ever had in regards to his own identity. “…one of their own?”

“Oh, I– Sorry, those are pretty recent.” Hob straightened himself up (ha) on the chair, his lecturing posture taking over. Dream liked when he did that. He liked to hear Hob speak of things he had deep knowledge of and passion for. “This one was created in 1988 by a queer activist called Michael Page. Had the pleasure of being there when it was first unveiled, but clearly it took a long time until I was able to wear something like this out in public and not be decked by some bloody homophobe.”

It was starting to sink in.

“…I’m afraid I was not present for these developments.” Dream saw the look on Hob’s face, like he was ready to apologise. He raised a hand to stop him, waving his concern away. “As far as I can remember, queer was not a form of self identification, but only a way to shun out those outside the established norm.”

“Ah, yes. We reclaimed it, though. Or are reclaiming it. The 80s were crazy. All of them were, for me.” Hob smiled at Dream, at their shared secret and at their years of now reestablished friendship.

“I think you’re lonely.”

Could it have been….? Could he have meant…?

“What does it mean for you, then?” Dream asks in a way he hopes sounds inconspicuous, pointing at the pin. He was hesitant to ask, afraid to be getting it all wrong.

“For me? It means I love whoever I love. Man, woman, either or neither.”

The pride coming from Hob’s words filled Dream with hope, something he had not felt in a long, long time. The look in his face then shifted onto something else, something he didn’t quite understand. “…what about you? That is, if you’re okay with talking about that. I don’t want to overstep. Last thing I want is for you to walk out–”

“I won’t, Hob.” Dream knew Hob had reason for feeling that way. “I don’t believe the terminology you have could define my experience. I have laid with mortals and gods alike, and have worn many faces and names. It is beyond human comprehension.”

Hob seems to take a moment to think about what he’d just heard. Dream feels like he might have thrown too much at his human friend. “…I think I get it. But, and tell me to bugger off I’m wrong, do you prefer to be a particular way? To be with a particular sort of being?”

Dream. Didn’t have an answer.

He never thought of what he preferred. He’d never felt in need of any sort of outside validation, but. That was a lie. He needed it. He just never cared to look for it.

Hob’s smile was what broke him out of the spell of his own self doubt. “It’s okay if you don’t have an answer. It takes people a long time to get it, it took me nearly 600 years! Ah! You know what? I’ve got an idea–” He reached inside his brown messenger bag, pulling out a colourful piece of paper, handing it over to Dream. A pamphlet for a meeting. “We’re having a meeting for the uni’s LGBT clubs here at the Inn. I want this to be a safe space for the kids, and to get them to connect with other folks in the community, share their experiences. It’s tomorrow, and I’d love it if you could make it. I’m sure they would too.”

Dream took the pamphlet in hands, looking at the bright colours and bold fonts, taking in every bit of information Hob was giving him and trying to fill in the gaps of the questions he wouldn’t dare ask. After a moment, he looked up at Hob, allowing himself a small smile. “I shall be in attendance, then.”

—————

Dream stood outside the New Inn, hands tucked safely inside the pockets of his coat jacket. He watched as groups of young adults arrived, greeting each other cheerfully. The hair colours and outfits reminded him of his sister, Delirium, but they all seemed to be more in line with her previous self; delighted to be there, happy to meet their friends. A flag danced in the light summer breeze on a pole next to the window, the stripes of colours brightening up the already lively scene. A rainbow, Hob had told him the day before, was the most recognizable symbol of the queer community. It now was accompanied by stripes of light pink and blue, white, black and brown. Dream enjoyed good symbolism, and he could feel the meaning of those colours to all who were present from their daydreams alone.

He, however, still felt like an outsider. Like he wasn't really meant to be there, save for Hob's generous invite. Dream was not defined by the same standards humanity aligned itself with; in fact, he wasn't defined by anything at all. He was not an individual, but the safe arms in which those dreamers rested every night, the common thread in their hopes, in their restful slumber. It would be silly to think that he'd need to identify as one thing or another, really. He was there for Hob . Because Hob invited him. Because he wanted to know more about the everyday life of his dearest friend. Because he wanted to hear him talk, see him inspire others with his tales, wanted to hear the sound of his voice, the gentle way in which he made people feel welcome, cared for, loved, he wanted–

Dream thought it best to wait it out, at least until most people had already arrived, until he had an idea of just how many young, hopeful minds would be in the vicinity. After escaping the Burgess Manor, Dream was faced with a considerable raise in the amount of dreamers under his care. He would not admit it to anyone but himself, but at times, it became too much even for him to bear. The idea of willingly walking into a space with so many people was daunting, to say the least. So he waited, watched as the New Inn became packed with dreamers, feeling his palms dampen inside the pockets of his coat.

Taking the first step towards the door was difficult. Pushing it open was even harder. Dream stepped in, careful not to bump into anyone or to even get too close. The sound of the little bell that was supposed to announce his arrival had no effect, as it was overtaken by the sound of chatter inside the Inn. It was better that way, Dream thought. Not having Hob rush to greet him. That way he could take a moment to adjust to his surroundings, maybe even blend in, become invisible. In hindsight, his usual choice of attire did anything but blend in there. He was a dark little cloud in a sky full of bright colours, like a multi-coloured sunset on a tropical beach. And of course, every sunset had its monarch, shining brightly, commanding the attention. That, of course, was Hob.

"Hello there, kids! Glad to see most of you could make it!" The cheerful, gentle register of Hob's voice filled the room, filtered by the small but potent speaker he'd rented just for the occasion. Dream could hear his voice clearly, and it helped him tune out everything else that wasn't his beloved friend. "This is the first of hopefully many meetings of our beloved Queer Clubs here at my beloved New Inn. I want you all to know this is a safe space for you all no matter what part of the gender and sexuality spectrums you fall on. The only things I won't accept here are discrimination of any kind, and anyone that thinks Lawrence Cheney shouldn't have won season 2 of Drag Race UK. Are we clear on that one?"

Laughter filled the room, and Dream couldn't help but allow his lips a small smile. Hob truly was a marvel. How anyone could shine so brightly was beyond even the dream lord's knowledge, but he was glad to be able to bask in that glow from time to time. He wished he could do it more often.

Hob was saying other things, Dream thought. Instructions on seating arrangements, subjects to be discussed, discounts on food and drinks. All Dream could do was watch as Hob did more than just make everyone feel welcome, but inspired them with hope and joy, a gentle breeze of acceptance, the embrace of a parent, the empathy of an equal. There was much to work with here, much to inspire new dreams. Dreams of comfort and love, of community and pride.

"Dream? You in there, love?"

Hob's voice broke the spell he himself had cast over Dream, who could now see his friend's palm waving in front of his eyes. He'd become lost in thought, it seemed. Dream's nose scrunched up at the interruption, looking at Hob with his usual look of curiosity. There was still much he needed to catch up on when it came to non verbal communication. "Aye. I'm here. Have I not fully manifested my presence?"

Hob chuckled, and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Oh, yes. Physically, at least." Dream's brows furrowed in worry, and he was glad Hob was quick enough to notice when something had gone over his head. "Just a joke– hey, I'm glad you could make it. The kids will love meeting you."

"Meeting me? There are far too many people here for you to make introductions. Besides, I know them all, and they all know me. They just do not remember it during waking hours."

This felt like a plausible enough explanation to keep Hob from actually introducing him to everyone in attendance. But Hob was far too optimistic to be dissuaded so easily. "I'm not talking about introducing them to Morpheus. I'd like them to meet my friend, Dream."

"I do not see the difference." He shouldn't say why he couldn't bear the idea of being introduced to so many people. Shouldn't burden Hob with his problems, that wouldn't exist had he just not been captured in the first place. Dream had been good at hiding his discomfort so far, and he'd continue to do so.

…well, maybe he was not so good at it. Not when Hob's eyes so clearly conveyed the worry that had just settled in his heart. It was difficult to deny Hob the truth when his warm, calloused hands took Dream's into his own so carefully, squeezing gently, as if saying you can trust me. I've got you. "It's okay if you'd rather not. I know it can be overwhelming sometimes."

"...thank you." Dream replied with a murmur. Hob gifted him with a smile. It seemed a lot could be said with just the eyes.

————

Even if Dream didn't intend on actually joining in on the conversations being held, he was glad to follow Hob along and listen to the discussions. It was amazing seeing just how bright the kids really were: they spoke of justice and equality, of inclusivity, of respect and love, of family and religion and sex and responsibility. It was a wider range of topics than he'd expected, an awareness of self he didn't think humans would ever possess, and now, he was glad to be proven wrong. He listened to their shared experiences, to the kindness in their eyes as they lifted each other up, the melody of their laughter and the bravery in their voices as they spoke of injustices they'd lived. It was fascinating, really.

What Dream was truly surprised to find was that people had, after all, an understanding of self that went beyond just physical. Hob brought him closer to a group of kids who were in a long discussion on gender identity. Some of them felt comfortable with the gender they'd been "assigned with at birth", others did not feel any affinity for it. Some of them had changed their bodies to fit with how they felt on the inside, and Dream couldn't help but feel enormous empathy for them, for the way they had to fight to exist in a body that didn't feel like a trap. It was something Dream always took for granted, until he himself felt the horror of having no agency over himself. The pain they went through to guarantee they'd have the right to live authentically. Dream's body had never been limited to an exclusive physical manifestation; he was as he felt like. Fluid , as one of the bright colour haired people had pointed out while explaining their own experience. They reminded Dream of his own sibling, Desire. Someone else brought up how they didn't particularly feel like they had a gender, and that the language surrounding it didn't particularly bother them. Agender, the girl said proudly. Dream wondered if there was any right or wrong way to declare oneself fluid or agender. Then he realised the tightness in his chest when the thought occurred to him.

"Are you alright?" Once again, Hob's voice brought him back to the Waking. Dream could now feel Hob's hand on his own again, but he wasn't sure what exactly had warranted it.

"Your hands were shaking."

Once again, Dream's physical form betrayed him. It was also clear how the conversation surrounding them had gone quiet, and more eyes than he would have liked had landed on their linked hands. He didn't like being watched. Like that.

"Oh, Mr. G, is this your boyfriend?" one of them asked, teasingly. "Would have never guessed you had a thing for goths!"

"Marissa, stop!" someone else said, poking the girl on the shoulder apprehensively. The next thing they said was soft as a whisper. "They are clearly not feeling well."

They.

Dream had never considered himself as they. But this person, whoever they were, preferred "not to assume" his gender. And the empathy displayed for his discomfort was something he wasn't expecting either. Hob seemed to be about to say something, but Dream was quicker.

"There is no need to worry for my well-being, but I thank you for your kindness." Dream allowed himself to smile once again. These children were going places, he knew it. "You may address me as he , if necessary. I would not oppose her or them either." It felt liberating to say it, and Dream didn't really know why. He did know, however, that he suddenly felt brave. "I am not Professor Gadlen's boyfriend , but I am honoured to call him my dearest, most cherished friend."

Dream looked at Hob, who seemed to be awestruck by his words. It was amusing to see him like that, and it lit something else inside him. This meeting was making Dream experience a range of feelings he'd forgotten about. He showed Hob a smile, and Hob smiled back at him, warm and gentle as ever. Their hands were still linked together. Dream had no intention of letting go. "Ah, yes. This little prick here is indeed my dearest, oldest friend. I did want them to meet you guys. I'm glad I was right about it."

When Hob said it, it made Dream's heart sing.

"...so you're fuckbuddies?"

" Marissa! "

————

After a few hours and many, many rounds of different conversations, Hob gathered the group once again, thanking them for coming and congratulating everyone on the success of their first meeting. Dream couldn't help but notice how Hob seemed unable to stop smiling. He could feel the pride and relief radiating off of his tanned skin and kind eyes. Dream wished he could have it all directed at himself, that gentleness.

Hob's boyfriend. Now that would be something.

Dream sat on the booth table behind the bar where he and Hob usually held their meetings and waited for everyone to leave. He wanted some time alone with Hob, even if just to hear what his beloved friend had to say about what he thought of the meeting, just to hear Hob's voice, the only music suited for Dream's ears.

He also had so many new feelings inside himself to explore. Those he could tend to later.

"Hey there, handsome stranger." Hob said as he sat across from Dream on the table, taking Dream's hand in his as if it was just the way they always did things. Maybe it could be. It wouldn't hurt (too much) to hope, would it? "Come here often?"

"Only when I'm in search of an epiphany." Dream couldn't bother to hide the fondness in his own voice, nor the relief he felt to have Hob's hand cradling his own again. "I am impressed, Professor Gadlen. You have gathered a group of exceptionally bright minds. It gives me hope for a better future for humanity."

"Wow Dream, that is… that is really high praise, especially coming from you." Hob seemed flushed, and Dream wondered what else he could do to cause that reaction, to see Hob shy and pretty like that again and again. "I learned a long time ago that I have to build the future I want to live in. But in all honesty… I'm more interested in the present right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Hob's optimism was infectious, it seemed. Dream too could only focus on the present moment. "I am glad to be able to share it with you."

There was a short silence shared between them after that. It was as if neither of them were ready to say whatever it was they clearly needed. Dream tried to take comfort in the feeling of Hob's hand in his, rubbing the back of Hob's hand with his thumb.

His mistake was looking up to meet Hob's eyes.

"There is much I have learned today." Dream decided he'd be the one to break the silence. He'd be the one to take the leap, because he knew Hob had made sure he'd make a safe landing. He knew that no matter what happened, no matter how much he could get hurt, he was safe. He could trust Hob with his heart, even if there was a chance that he would break it. "I often make the mistake of thinking there is nothing more to my existence than what I have already discovered. I contain all conscious minds throughout the universe, their lives, hopes and dreams. Yet, I forget that the tales of others cannot substitute one's own experience, only enlighten it."

Hob listened to Dream's words attentively. He looked anxious, but would not interrupt. Dream knew he wouldn't. He knew how much Hob cherished the moments where Dream felt ready to share something new. "Today, you have once more shown me there is much I have to learn. For that, I am grateful, Hob Gadling.”

How could Dream not fall in love with someone that treated him like he was the moon? How could the moon not love the sun?

"I'm grateful for you too, you know. The kids loved you. I'm sure I'll be getting asked about you for the rest of the semester. Maybe even longer." Hob's eyes were so fond it made Dream want to cry.

"And how would you like to answer their inquiries?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to tell them of your dearest, oldest friend…" Dream leaned in, bringing Hob's hand to his own cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to Hob's palm, and watched as Hob's eyes followed his every move. There was no turning back from this. "...or would you prefer to tell them about your lover, Hob?"

For a moment, time stopped. Their eyes met, and before Dream could get anxious or regret his words, Hob was already standing and leaning over the table, locking their lips together.

Dream thought he'd heard the sound of people cheering outside one of the windows of the New Inn. Hob would certainly be getting many questions from his students come next monday.

#virgo dream writes #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #dream x Hob #Morpheus x Hob #pride fic #dreamling fic #the sandman fic #remember when I used to write?

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calissarowan · 4 months ago

Text

Critiquing my own old designs for a transformation

Hi! So, a while back, @devilheartsblog had a fic idea that has since been lost into the mists of stuff that was very exciting at the time, and still is, but is sadly probably never going to claw its way to life, but in relation to that idea, we needed an ice-themed transformation (that wasn’t Lovix). So, I pitched the name ‘Glacix’, and came up with some designs! This was months ago, and I recently looked at the designs again, and I realised that, as much as I’d love to look and say, ‘Oh, wow, I’m a design genius and Rainbow should hire me today,’ I can’t. My reactions to my designs range from ‘Oh, I love that!’ to ‘Oh, why did I do this?!’ So, I decided to make a post showing the designs and critiquing them. I’m gonna put a ‘keep reading’, because otherwise this is gonna be way too long.

Bloom:

9/10. I’m actually in love with this. This was the first one I designed, and I was working out the style of the transformation, so I was a bit freer with her look, since I hadn’t made any guidelines for the form yet. The blue and orange look really good on her, and I’m in love with the braid! I designed the form with a figure-skater aesthetic, hence the little skirt, the tights, and, my favourite, the skate heels! They’re probably super impractical, but Butterflix got away with crazy heels, so I’m going with this. My only issue with this design is that her wings are pretty basic, even though the form is meant to be around base level in terms of power, so they shouldn’t be too complicated, but they’re the same as all the other Glacix wings, just a different colour, which I’d be complaining about if this was in the show, so I’m marking this look down for.

Musa:

8/10. I like it, I like it a lot, but…something about it just feels pretty disjointed. The skirt doesn’t feel in-keeping with the skater look, and she’s definitely missing some earmuffs/headphones. I like her braids, but they feel like they could be more interesting. But I love the red and purple colour scheme! Musa looks really good in it. Love the pigtails, and the black gloves, and the skate heels having musical note details is really nice. Again, the wings, but I have that issue with everyone.

Stella:

7/10. The oranges blend together, and the lighter orange blends into her hair, which could maybe be more interesting? The blue is kinda stark, but I do really like it. Love the knee-high boots, and I like the waist, but I have mixed feelings on the sleeves. The skirt is good. I’m starting to think this form might have looked good with coloured streaks in the girls’ hair. Her skates are…a bit off.

Flora:

7/10. It’s so pretty, and the twin braids are so cute, though they start too high on her head, but…it’s too simple. And the colours feel too pastel, and they give me a childish vibe. She has a bit of a ballerina feel, which I guess I like, but I don’t know, the look is too simple, and the colours are dancing on the line between working and not. She just has nothing that stands out, and Flora needs to get some attention.

Tecna:

10/10! Maybe it’s conceited to give your own design full marks, but I can’t help it! I love this! Even the samey wings work here! They’re so sharp and angular, and the stark colour scheme makes her stand out, and I’m so in love with the two little buns! Her skates are so sharp and vibrant, and it all just feels very Tecna. So proud of this one. This is probably the only one where I’d change absolutely nothing.

Aisha:

3/10. Gaaah, I feel so horrible! Aisha’s is just…oh, what did I do to my girl?! The colours don’t work, the boots make zero sense, the skirt is just a testament to me trying to find seven ways to draw a figure skater skirt… Oh, Aisha, I’m so sorry. And her hair, while pretty, feels like it could have been so much more! Go crazy with braids! Don’t just take her original hairstyle and braid the front bits back! I do like the wave details on her skates, and I actually quite like her top, though I don’t love it. All in all, I think I owe Aisha an apology. This…this is not good.

Roxy:

4/10. Again, I owe a Winx an apology. Why is it so pink?!? And it clashes! Badly! The colours aren’t good… Pink isn’t even Roxy’s colour! Not really. And not this much… Roxy should be in green, which I guess she is, and maybe purple. I like her in teal, too. She’d suit Aisha’s design better. On the plus side, I like the warrior vibes I get from her hair, and, colour aside, I actually love her boots. They’re awesome. Her top is pretty good, and her skirt is alright. I actually like Aisha’a skirt better. The gloves being so long is pretty cool, but I’m left confused if they’re gloves or just the sleeves of her top.

So, overall, I like the form, I think it’s cute, and I think it’s definitely better than Butterflix, but I don’t think it’d place highly on a transformation ranking. It needs individual wings, and the designs need work. But I did have fun designing it, then critiquing it later! What did you think?

#winx club #winx fanart #winx bloom #winx flora #winx stella #winx tecna #winx aisha #winx roxy #winx musa

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idontplaytrack · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request lilette x reader where reader is Robbies sister and lilette and her have to like sneak around bc they don't want him to find out about their relationship

Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?

Lilette Suarez x fem! reader

Warnings: angst, coarse language, closeted reader, implied homophobia, anxiety, mentions & description of death, make-out & smut. Very long fic ahead.

In which, you’ve got a secret to keep from your brother— the only who knew you as well as you did yourself. And you were terrified.

“Okay, I’ll see you for dinner tonight. Can’t wait.” You smiled.

“Me too.” Lilette says, your phone was held between your shoulder and ear while you went around the apartment tidying up. “See you soon, babe.”

“Bye.” You said and hung up. Robbie comes home. “Hi, sissy.” He greets you with a bright smile. In a panic, your phone just flies from your hand and falls onto the couch, thankfully. “Hey, how was practice?”

“Good, but tiring.” He tells you, “How’s your day been? What have you been up to for the past couple hours?”

“Uh, well.” You started, “I got home from school at 3:30. Did my homework, got a snack and now I’m just watching a bit of TV while scrolling through my phone.”

“Very chill.”

You shrug, “Hey, I would hate to bother you but could you give me a ride to the diner at like 7? I’m meeting Lilette there to work on a project.”

“The diner at seven? Yeah, sure. No problem.” He agrees quickly. That was partial lie— you weren’t there to work on a project, you were there for your bi-weekly dinner date. Though yes, you have been paired up with Lilette for a project. You guys just didn’t need to work on that right away.

While he went ahead to take a shower, you laid on the couch reading a book to pass the time till you had to go get ready. Well, you also had to wait until Robbie was out of earshot to leave Lilette a voice message. You called her ‘babe’ usually, so, that’s why. Lilette was currently working her shift— she went to work directly after school and would be right there to meet you for dinner that evening.

You put your phone up to your ear to listen to her reply, “I miss you too, cookie. All yours tonight.” You couldn’t help but laugh. She’s always called you by that nickname— Lilette claims it was because you were ‘obsessed with cookies’. And at first you thought she was calling you like, crazy, kookie. But she was horrified by that assumption and immediately told you otherwise. But ‘all yours tonight’…that got you a little excited. Maybe a little too much.

You set an alarm to remind you to get ready in time. After reading some pages of your book in hand, you dozed off. When you woke up again, it was right before your alarm went off. So, you turned the alarm off and went to get ready. “What time will you want me to pick you up?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.” You admitted. “I’ll keep you updated?”

“Okay, yeah. Don’t forget otherwise— how are you gonna get home?” He jokes.

“Probably walk.”

“When have I ever let you walk alone. After sundown?” He chuckles, “If you’ll be out late, call me. I don’t care how late it is, I just want you to be safe.”

“You know we’re the same age, right?” You bit back a laugh, checking your hair in the mirror by the front door.

“I’m still older.” Robbie retorts.

“Whatever.” You shoved him playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” He nudged you towards the open front door.

You got into the front passenger’s seat as per usual, he puts on his playlist and started to drive. It was a pretty quiet ride to the dinner, so your mind just wandered for the duration of it. Thinking about your Dad, how both yours and Robbie’s relationship was great but they constantly clashed. You hated that they yelled so much, it scared you. Unlike Robbie, your Dad never apologises for raising his voice. Instead, his way of an apology was quietly stocking the fridge with your favourite fruit or the pantry with your favourite snack. Sometimes, just sometimes…he’d take you to go get ice cream. You liked that way the best because you actually got to spend time with him. He liked spending time with you, but he wad almost always too focused on Robbie. How Robbie was doing at his sport, were his grades okay, are rehearsals going well, will they interfere with practice? You couldn’t blame him. Either of them, actually.

Robbie was the boy, the wished-for child, of course he was favoured. Your Mom however, you were her favourite— she always joked about this to make you smile. But now, you rarely saw her. But only because it physically hurt you to see her so sick. You were always thinking about her as much as you wished that that wasn’t the case…thinking and wondering how much time she had left. With you.

Lilette was no doubt the nicest person you’ve ever met. She was such a sweetheart. You didn’t have a lot of friends— you liked it that way, keeping your circle small. Lilette was your closest friend. Now, you were dating her. And have been for the past four months. There wasn’t actually a specific moment the two of you declared that you two were in an exclusive relationship, it just naturally happened evolved time. Everything felt comfortable with her, with her you felt like you had no worries, no fears, no nothing. You simply felt like you were in a little bubble of safety and so much love.

————

“You alright?” Robbie’s voice and the vehicle coming to a stop, snaps you out of your thoughts.

You cleared you throat, “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Hey, just enjoy yourself tonight, alright? Don’t worry about Dad, don’t worry about Mom. I’m on my way to go see Mom— we’ll go together tomorrow too, okay? The two of us. She’s okay.”

“Okay.” You agreed with a nod.

“Okay.” He says, “Go on, have a good time. Remember to update me what time you want me to pick you up later and where.”

“I will.” You tell him before getting out of the car. As you entered the diner, you turned to look over your shoulder and he waves. You wave back, stepping into the diner. He drives off seeing that.

Once inside, you see Lilette walking out from the back, her hair down and wearing a flannel and her favourite pair of jeans. Her gaze finds yours and her face lights up. Lilette nearly squeals, rushing over to give you a hug. “Hi!”

“Hi.” You said with a smile, mutually breaking away a few seconds later so you two could sit down. Quickly placing your orders, Lilette started chatting with you. “What’ve you been up to since I last saw you at school?”

“I got home, did my homework, read a book then fell asleep.” You nearly snorted, “How was work?”

“It was good, actually.” Lilette says, “Better than yesterday, thank goodness. No rude customers today.”

“Good.”

“Can I…ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, seeing from the corner of your eye that a waiter was walking towards the booth with your food.

“Would you…want to go somewhere private after we’re done here?” She asks shyly, a deep red dusting her cheeks.

You nearly drop your fork, blinking profusely while looking at her, “Uh— you mean like get…

“A room?” She completes your sentence, nodding her head.

“Actually.” You swallowed your mouthful of your sandwich— your eyes…they were just fixed on her, tracing her features with your gaze, “Yes. Sure.”

Thank God Lilette's mom wasn't on this shift so she wasn't anywhere near here.

————

And so you and Lilette ended up getting a room at a cheap hotel nearby, paid for in cash. She had her arm around you and you were already beginning to fantasise…feeling a certain rush of something going down south. Shit.

“Oh, my God.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I have to text Robbie and let him know he doesn’t need to pick me up.” You realised, rummaging through your pocket for your phone.

“Oh.” She laughs, gently pushing you onto the mattress. You sat down, shooting your brother a text to tell him that you were going to be spending the night with Lilette— you did not however, tell him where. You put your phone aside, focusing on Lilette again. “All good?”

“Yeah.”

She shifted closer to you, barely a couple of inches away from your face. You feel her fingertips on your face as she brushes the stray hairs out of your face to get a clear view. Her hand settles on your cheek, cupping it and she leans in pressing a gentle little kiss to your lips. Lilette does it a few times over before the connection deepens. The kisses became heated and wet, lingering for longer and longer each time. You eventually fell on your back, Lilette went along with it but was careful of how she moved around. Her hand rested on your chest, just shy of your breasts below. She smiled, eyes opening to look at you for a second.

“Are you sure you want to?” She asks, breaking away from the kiss. Her eyes study your face. You nodded eagerly, kissing her back first. “Have you ever done this before?” She asks, voice muffled by your constant kisses.

“No.” You hummed, feeling her knees bracketing you on either side.

“It’s okay, me neither.” She reveals, pressing her first kiss along your jaw. Then, her lips were kissing a trail down your neck, trying to learn what it did— to you and for you. You whine when she kisses a specific spot, she does it again, and again, then harder. Your whine increases in pitch, you feel your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“It’s alright, cutie.” She assured, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “It’s alright, you don’t have to be quiet.”

Through your breathlessness, you nod, agreeing to what she’d just told you. Then, she started back up again. Kissing that one sensitive area on your neck to keep drawing out those noises and build up your arousal. She’s learnt about something you liked and decided to keep to it. No complaints, though— you were going in blind and absolutely loving it so far.

You feel her hand caressing your hip, over the area that was the waistband of your pants. Your breathing hitches, wondering what she’d do next. "Can I take them off?" She asks you in a quiet voice. All you could manage was a nod, it was as though you didn't know a single word anymore. With that, your pants and underwear were slid off by Lilette. Her eyes meet yours to ask, "Are you comfortable? With me hovering over you like this? Or would you rather...kind of just sit and lean back?"

You took a deep breath and swallowed your spit harshly, "Maybe— maybe we try this first."

"Okay." Lilette smiles sweetly, lips reattaching to the spot on your neck.

"Mm— my God—" You panted.

"So that's good?" She questioned, breath tickling you.

You confirmed, "Mm— mhm, yeah." She tries something she hasn't done to you yet: her teeth grazes your skin just ever so lightly to see how it made you feel. "How's that?"

You shook your head, "No."

Humming, she resumes working on the spot on your neck. She sucked harder and harder over time, you were eventually left with a pretty obvious mark over it. Her hand begins moving down south, stopping just before the mound. "Do you want me to try?" She inquires seriously, her eyes filled with concern— as were her words.

"Yes." You told her, looking at her too, "Yeah."

She moves slowly, fingertips circling the overheating and swollen bundle of nerves between your legs. You whimper, she watches you, you look back at her. It made you grow shy, cheeks blushing as you averted your eyes from hers very briefly. When you grew louder and wetter, she decisively picks up her pace. You feel a finger ghost your entrance and you flinch, then was clenching around nothing. "I'm gonna try, okay, baby?"

Shit, that petname. She's never used that before on you. Oh, boy...

You whined needily at the new petname, giving her an affirming nod to slip a finger inside. As wet as you were you felt every bit of this completely new sensation, it reflexively makes you taking in a deep breath and lift your hips a little. Then, it was as if all of that ignited something in Lilette: she begins moving her finger in and out of you, at the same time, she kisses you...peppering kisses all over your face and down to your chest. She discovers a few other sensitive spots she could take note of for future purposes, too. You feel the tip of a second finger at your entrance several minutes later, and you let her try adding on to the first. But quickly, you learnt that you would rather she didn't do that. It hurt. "Ow!" You cried out as if on reflex from what you were feeling. Lilette removes her finger from you, the second one retracts too.

"Oh, I'm so sorry baby." She says a little scared by how you were affected by it, though a bit apprehensive, her hands found their way to your inner thighs as she sat down between your legs. "Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head 'no'. Her hands then started to massage that erogeneous zone, you relaxed, telling it was okay, "No, no it's not your fault. I'm alright, okay? I promise. We can keep going." Lilette nods her head, kneeling then smoothly bending down towards your cunt. You saw what she was trying to do, "Oh, fuck. Yes, go for it." Your bluntness had her shooting you a look of bewilderment but she quickly recovers and started using her tongue to stimulate your clit. They were slow and almost a little hesitant at first, but you moaned feeling the sheer closeness of you and Lilette. Her being so careful and loving, telling you that you looked beautiful. You were on cloud nine hearing her practically worshipping your body. That was all she needed to gain the confidence and momentum to keep going, picking up her pace gradually to allow for build up of arousal and pleasure.

“Feel good?”

“Fuck— fuck— so good.” You breathed out shakily, voice almost strained. You were clenching your fists and licking your lips, unsure what to do with your hands. However, your natural instinct was to run a hand through her hair and without any thought, that’s what you did. A smile forms on her face, and yours, seeing her happy.

Lilette contently ate you out until she felt you throbbing against her tongue. With her brows raised slightly, she pulls herself away from your cunt to look at it. “Oh, baby.” Her hands massaged your inner thighs again, “So pretty. So, so pretty~” Her eyes flicked up, catching your gaze. It makes you squirm out of frustration, though you weren’t exactly sure why you were feeling that way. Her thumb rubs your clit and you back away just slightly, a whimper falls from your lips as your head rolls back. She decides to test something— she rubs your clit again. You whimper. The back of her fingertips ghosts your clit. You whine. Grinning to herself, she got back to rubbing your clit consistently all while feeling the throbbing intensify and watching you begin clenching.

“Oh God—” You breathe in deeply, the fluttering in your core stops and spreads immensely, “Oh. God! Shit. Lilette, fuck— oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Each exclamation came out in a pant, with you whining through the whole thing.

Lilette slows down progressively to help you come down from your climax and then detaches her mouth from you once you started to seem more relaxed. She scooched upwards to sit right by you, her palm rests on your abdomen, stroking it, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, and felt a sudden urge to burst into tears. You don’t know if it was the realisation of the whole act of having sex, or it specifically because of the intensity of your climax, but the urge…was strong. Too strong. Lilette repositioned herself and was laying on her stomach while face to face with you. You licked your lips and pursed them together. It quivered anyway, and Lilette brushes her thumb over your cheek watching you with worried eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You managed. “Nothing. I promise.”

“It’s okay.” She squeezes your cheek slightly, “It’s okay, I’m right here with you. Cry if that’s what your body feels like doing.” The feeling was dying down until she said it, then the waterworks began with virtually no warning. She guides you onto your side to hold you in her arms and rub your back to soothe you. “You’re alright, hm? I promise.” She said softly, planting a kiss on your shoulder, “You did good.”

————

Early the next morning, you and Lilette were getting ready to leave the hotel and go back to the diner for breakfast. Holding onto the wall to steady yourself while you put your pants on, an obscene noise startles you and you cringe.

“Oh, geez.” Lilette realises too, “Bit early, huh.”

You moved away from the wall and finished getting dressed. Once freshened up, you two checked the room to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind. Lilette was holding onto your hand, fingers intertwined together. But you were a step ahead, pushing the door open you step outside first. “Robbie’s picking you up from the diner at 7:30, yes?” You confirmed with a nod of your head. Looking left and right on reflex but locking eyes with none other than your father. You tried pushing Lilette back into the room but he saw you immediately. Someone was with him— someone familiar but you couldn’t see their face.

Your feet were rooted to the carpeted floors out of total fear. “My Dad.” You turned your head to whisper quickly. Lilette successfully pulls you back into the room but he was too fast, coming face to face with you and Lilette. “Why aren’t you at home?” He bellowed. You flinch, backing up against Lilette. A cry was caught in your throat.

He yells at you until you all leave the hotel, following you around right beside you.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Who is this?’

‘Why aren’t you home?’

‘Does your brother know about this?’

You started to zone out, your heart was slamming in your chest as the sound pounded through your ears. Your breathing…it quickened to the point where you couldn’t feel much of anything going into your system. Behind his shoulder, a car driving by catches your eyes. Robbie. You ran, Lilette ran with you as you desperately waved to catch his attention so he could stop. “ROB!” You screeched.

“You’re screwing with my mother and you don’t know who I am?!” You hear a voice behind you yelling right as Robbie slows down his car to a stop, “You’ve met me multiple times. I’m your daughter’s best friend.” Seeing how upset and flustered you were, he quickly unlocks the doors so you could get in.

“Fuck you.” Lilette spat, her words filled with venom. You’ve never seen her so angry.

That. That was why your father didn’t chase after you anymore. He got caught too— it was becoming a complete shit show in this driveway. Your father looked at Robbie, as though trying to apologise, but he was gripping at the wheel so tightly that his knuckles became pale. Next thing he did? He drives away. So fast.

————

The car ride was silent, but the tension was high. None of you knew what to say. But you feel a sickening feeling bubbling in your stomach. “Pull over.” You spoke up. Sensing your tone, he does so immediately. You opened the door and leaned over the grass patch to throw up. Lilette rubs your back, obviously worried and startled by how abrupt it was. But, she had an inkling why you were like that.

By the time the three of you arrived at the diner, you had calmed down. Or so you thought. Your mind was still racing, trying to piece together an explanation for your brother. You didn’t want him to be mad at you as well.

“Rob—” You sniffled. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. That’s the last thing I’ll be feeling. I saw enough to know who to be mad at.” Robbie assured, “Did he hit either of you?”

“No.” Lilette answers, “I almost kicked him in the crotch, but I didn’t.” You shook your head.

You knew he was waiting for a full rundown of the events, and you were going to tell him— despite how terrifying it was. “After we had dinner, we went to the hotel and spent the night. Because—” You stopped yourself, “We wanted…privacy. That’s why I said you didn’t have to pick me up last night. Everything went fine until we heard people going at it in the room next to us this morning. We leave the room to check out, it was Dad he started tailing me demanding an explanation as to why I was there. Couldn’t tell him— nothing came out of my mouth. I almost passed out in front of the hotel.”

“So that’s when I drove by and you stopped my car?”

“Yeah. And while I was making my way to the car, Lilette was screaming behind me. That’s why he stopped chasing us. He got caught too.”

“With my mother.” Lilette adds on.

“Can you not tell Mom, please? A-about me and Lilette.” You requested quietly, feeling the tears pricking at your eyes.

“Hey, you have my word, okay? I’m not gonna tell mom or anyone. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” He promised. “I’m just…glad it’s Lilette and not that creepy chess club guy that tried to take you to the dance last time.”

You chuckled at the memory, “Thanks.”

“Okay, eat your breakfast. Don’t worry about Dad, I’ll handle him.”

“But— where can we go? What if he gets violent? We can’t stay at Lilette’s either.”

“I’ll take you two to go spend time with Mom. Alright? Stay there until I come and get you— we’ll figure something out if the time gets too late. But you should be okay, the staff knows us. They’ll let you guys stay longer.”

“Okay.” You agreed. Lilette holds your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. Breakfast went by uneventfully, then the three of you were on your way to your Mom. Though it was early, your Mom was awake, smiling so brightly at the sight of you. You let go of Lilette’s hand and rushed to her side, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, mama.”

“Good morning, ladybug.” Your Mom says back, caressing your cheek weakly, “Who’s that pretty girl you came in with?”

Oh, right.

You looked over your shoulder, silently asking Lilette to approach. She walks over. “Hi, Mrs. Thorne.”

Your Mom laughs breathily. “Too formal. Rhea.”

“This is Lilette, remember her? My best friend.”

Your Mom sighs, “Of course. Oh, goodness. I’m sorry, sweetheart. My memory’s all over the place. I used to call you little lily.”

“That’s right.” Lilette cracks a smile.

“Lilette’s my girlfriend now, mama.” You revealed.

“Oh, that’s so great.” Your Mom gasps softly, “I’m so happy for you, ladybug. I’m so happy you found love in your best friend.”

That was it, you were crying like a baby having received your Mom’s blessings. Lilette pulls a chair closer for you to sit, no— fall back on. She rubs your back and held you close while she stood. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry. Mommy’s happy for you, don’t you worry about things like that. I love you. You’re my baby.”

“Thank you, mama.” You swallowed your tears, “Thank you, I love you so much, mama.”

You and Lilette stayed with your Mom for hours, chatting and laughing. You wanted her to sleep and get some rest since she’s been up for awhile, but she refuses and there was no fighting her. So you just let her stay up. “Hi, y/n. Good to see you here again.” A nurse who recognised you came by to check on your Mom.

“Hi, Iris.” You gave her a smile.

“Oh, who’s this?” She asks, curious.

“That’s Lilette. Her girlfriend.” Your Mom answered before you did.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Iris sighs, “Young love is beautiful.”

Once Iris leaves, you told your Mom, “Dad doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t even come by. He doesn’t need to know anything.” You mom tells you calmly, “What matters is you’re safe, healthy and happy. How’s school for you?”

“Very good.” You reply, Lilette nodded too. “Great friends, teachers are great too. My grades are good. I got a 95% on my last quiz.”

“That’s my girl.” Your Mom praised, “I’m so proud of you.”

Lilette couldn’t help but smile seeing you and your Mom interact. The love was so, so apparent. “Robbie’s coming later.” Your Mom says.

“I know, Mama. I know. He dropped us off, he just has to go run some errands.”

You could never tell your mom what your dad’s done. You couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t need any of that right now. She was on her literal deathbed.

“Thank you for coming to see me. Both of you. It’s so nice to have you both here.”

“Of course, mama. I’ll always make the time to come see you.”

Robbie came to the hospice in the evening. Lilette taps him on the shoulder once and he flinched, seething. Uh oh.

“Robbie, hi, baby.” Your Mom’s face lit up again just like when she saw you.

“Hi, ma. Here I am.” Robbie chuckles, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Your sister said you had to run some errands.” Your mom mentioned, almost suspiciously but also with an undertone of worry.

“Uh, everything’s fine. Dad’s just being difficult.”

“Don’t let him affect you. Focus on yourselves, that old man can take care of himself.” She says, “I’m serious. You all are graduating high school this year and going off to college, working next…whatever. Life’s gotta keep going, don’t let stuff like that hold you back.”

What?

“Take care of yourselves. You can’t rely on your Dad. You, take good care of my daughter.” She looks at Lilette at that moment. “I promise.” Lilette answered seriously. “Good.” Your mom smiles.

“Mama.” You mumbled. Holding onto her hand, you looked at her— incredibly worried. You couldn’t shake this feeling once you’d heard all of that. She squeezes your hand and gave you a smile. You didn’t say much of anything else for the rest of the night. The three of you decided to hang around for way longer even though your Mom initially wanted you all to go home and get some sleep. You just couldn’t leave her.

“Kids.” Your Mom says breaking the silence and looking away from the TV screen. The three of you focused on her, she sighs. “Remember to take good care of yourselves. Always stand up for what’s right. Don’t ever change yourselves for others. Remember I love all of you and will always be around in whatever way possible. Don’t worry about me. I know I do not have to worry about you kids. Don’t worry about college, both of you. Lilette, thank you for making my baby girl so happy.”

“Ma—”

“What—” Robbie paused the the movie. Ghostbusters. You guys watched this all the time at home.

“I have to go, okay? Mommy’s tired, I’m very sorry. I’ll be back. Every time you see you a sunset, I’ll be there.”

Tears streamed down your face as the realisation hit and denial went away. You clung onto her hand for dear life, as did Robbie. Lilette had her arm around you. Suddenly, everything felt like they were going in slow motion.

Your Mom’s gaze looking between the three of you.

Her smiling, her eyes welling up with tears.

You hear Robbie trying to hold it together but quickly failed, choking on a quiet sob. Lilette was breathing heavily beside you, sniffling.

Your mom’s eyes, her eyelids begin to droop.

The sound of the heartrate monitor going lower and lower, slower and slower.

Then, the flatline. It echoed, her eyes closed. Her hands, let go. You went limp in Lilette’s embrace, but you were soon escorted out by a nurse. Lilette hugs you, and since you were facing the direction of your mom’s bed you could see them drape a blanket over her to cover her up. You were a mess, tears soaking her shirt, mumbling incoherently as you cried.

Lilette was speechless. Nothing she says would be right. So she just held you to keep you steady. Robbie tries to get you both to leave but you resisted, not wanting to leave your mom.

“y/n, let’s go. Mom said to take care of ourselves.” Robbie says quietly, hand on your shoulder. “Let mom rest. She’s been fighting for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

“Don’t be sorry, let’s go.“

————

Once home, it was another fight. A very angry father was waiting for your return. “What are you crying about?” He snarked.

“Mom died.”

“Mom’s fine.”

“She died.” Robbie repeated, “Took her last breath right in front of us. She’s been there for such a long time and you haven’t seen her more than three times. Leave y/n alone, leave Lilette alone. If you think it’s right to get mad at your daughter for being herself, I get why you’d think it’s acceptable to cheat on your dying wife. You are a sick bastard.”

Your Dad swung on Robbie, but Robbie was agile, he successfully defended himself by dodging and your Dad’s fist slams into the wall. “Why didn’t they call?!”

“Ask yourself that. Ask yourself when the last time you saw her was. Even Lilette’s been there more than you have. Her name’s always in the visitor log. Ask yourself why felt that it was okay for her to go, without you around.” Robbie responded lowly, his whole frame trembling with anger. “You know what? It’s no use talking to you. You need to leave the house and never come back.”

“How dare you ask your father to leave his house!”

“This is mom’s house. And now, it’s mine. Mom left it to me. She left you nothing. She may have been very sick, but she was more clear-headed than you have been.” Robbie continues. “LEAVE!”

You all watched him leave, finally defeated. “Burn in hell.” He says as the door slammed.

“Go to bed.” Robbie urged, “It’s late.”

You gave in, Lilette heads up to your room with you.

“Good night. I’ll be up with you in a minute.” Robbie says softly. Entering your room, Lilette shuts the door behind the both of you and turned the lock. She picks out a change of clothes for you and herself then handed your stack to you. Till now, not a word’s been said yet. You got changed, so did Lilette. She took your clothes and tossed them in the hamper before pulling your covers off the bed enough so you could get in comfortably. Lilette knew you were hurting and grieving. It didn’t take a genius to know that, but there was hell of a lot more going on. You needed her and she knew it.

“I love you.” She holds you tightly, both arms wrapped around you. You laid on her chest, trying to empty your head and focus on the steady beat of her heart. Lilette stroked your hair to lull you to sleep, eventually she resorted to singing. The door, having been unlocked by Lilette righr before you both got into bed…creaked. It opens up, you hear Robbie’s voice. Indistinctly.

“I got her, go rest.” Lilette tells him, “You’d better keep a close eye on your shoulder. If it gets worse, get it checked out.”

“I will.” Robbie says, “G’night.”

“Night.”

Robbie exits, closing the door again. “I’m sad.” You mumbled. “I know, honey. That’s okay. Let it out, I got you baby. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be okay.” You repeated while she rubs your back and pressed kisses to your head every now and then, “Thank you. For being here for me. Always.”

“And forever.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

#auli’i cravalho #lilette suarez #nbc rise #drama high #wlw romance #gxg #wlw #wlw fic #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #female reader #lgbtqia #queer #angst #requested fic #anon request #thanks anon!#alternative universe

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normansnt · 1 year ago

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Rest (Comfortable pt.2) Kenpachi Zaraki x male!Dr!reader

(You can read this even if you didn't read pt.1)

Warning: mention of stitches and bandages but nor very detailed just mentioned otherwise its fluff🐥

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Kenpachi woke up in his room. His mouth was dry and he could feel his whole chest being bandaged. He wanted to sit up but a voice stopped him. "Kenpachi Zaraki don't you dare"

Kenpachi chuckled, he knew exactly who that voice. "How lovely to hear your voice again Y/N" said Kenpachi sounding sarcastic because of the doctors cold voice but actually meaning it.

Y/N chuckled "I have tended to you enough times to know that you cannot lay in a bad for a long time letting your wounds heal" said the man smiling slightly. "Well then why did you stop me?" Asked Kenpachi still laying with a small smile on his face. "Kenpachi these wounds are bigger then the ones you get while fighting your squad members you need time to heal, at least try laying in bed for one day even that is not enough but knowing you even that would be a miracle" said Y/N now more serious. "Do I hear worry in your voice doc?" asked Kenpachi smirking. He might act playful but inside he was melting.

The fact that Y/N was worried for him felt amazing, not only because no one has ever done that but also because Y/N was someone very important to him. "Yes, well, you were quite close to dying the kid you fought was pretty good, not to mention I never saw you this thrilled before you truly enjoyed yourself" smiled Y/N.

Kenpachi thought about this. It was true that he had a lot of fun fighting Ichigo, finally finding someone on his level was exhilarating but he couldn't help but wonder why it was not as exciting as he thought it would be.

He thought he would be much more happy, crazy and what not but... it wasn't as intense as he thought.

He looked at Y/N who was preparing things for his check up. He stared for a bit, and then it downed on him.

It was not as exciting as he thought it would be because battle was not the only thing he looked forward to anymore.

He also couldn't wait to end the battle and talk to Y/N about it. To see him smile at him again, hear his laugh, see the way Y/Ns eyes light up when he sees him. That is... absolutely horrifying to Kenpachi. He lived his whole life for battle and the excitement it gave him that made him happy. Now, though, someone came along who gave him happiness outside of battle.

"Pachi? Are you ok you have been staring at me for a long time now" said Y/N confused. Kenpachi didn't answer just opened his mouth like he was going to but nothing came out.

"Ok, listen I'll do my check up now and I really hope after I leave this room you will listen to my advice and stay in bed" said the h/c haired male in a slightly scolding tone. Kenpachi loved that. Y/N was scolding him because he doesn't care about his own safety enough.

When Y/N started to slowly help him sit up so he could put fresh bandages on him Kenpachis eyes did not leave the doctors face for one second. "Wow your stitches are healing nicely I guess being knocked out is very helpful" smiled the doctor.

Kenpachi still didn't say another word he was trying to understand how Y/N managed to heal his battle scarred heart and make him love something else outside of battle and Yachiru. "All right Im all done here I know its not your strong suit but could you PLEASE try to rest as much as possible and--" when Y/N wanted to finish his sentence and to start pulling away Kanpechi grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving. "Pachi...?"

With one fast movement he pulled Y/N towards him so their lips collided. Y/N was shocked to say the least.

Kenpachi taking the first move was something he did not expect, not to mention this soon.Y/N kissed back without hesitation cupping his cheek and seating himself in Pachis lap cautiously not to pull his stitches. Kenpachis lips were dry and cracked but they were warm and welcoming non the less Y/N smiled into the kiss. He couldn't belive he is kissing The Kenpachi Zaraki the feared captain of squad 11.

Kenpachi was in cloud 9 or heaven or whatever they call it, he was jut feeling very very warm and nice inside. Y/Ns lips were everything he thought them to be, soft, warm and they tasted like coffee which the dr had every morning.

"Arghh... fuck" Kenpachi groaned after they parted because his movements were to quick when pulling Y/N to his lap and his scars hurt now. "Damn it Kenpachi as great as this was you shouldn't have hurt yourself" Y/N tried scolding him but he couldn't hide his smile. "Worth it" groned Kenpachi while smirking at Y/N "Yeah yeah whatever we can repeat that when you have gotten the necessary amount of rest you need" said Y/N while laying him down carefully and kissing his cheek.

"I will make sure to get lots of rest then" said Kenpachi with a big smile. "You better" said Y/N then laughed and headed for the door "I will be back to check on you later I have other patients to attend to as well" and with flashing one last smile to the Captain he left. Kenpachi closed his eyes with Y/Ns image on his mind, and perhaps with some thoughts about finding Ichigo and fighting him again, even if he fell in love he is still him.

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TADA🦖

I know its not that long bit its short and sweet and I like it🤓

You guys liked my Usopp fanfic more but eh Im currently obsessed w Kenpachi and I love how this turned out sooo🦦

I am thankful for the love my Usopp fic has received though, don't worry I will write more One Piece ofc but Im watching bleach most of the time now so I get more ideas for that😗🤍

Well ladies, gentlemen and others I hope you enjoyed your reading, have a good afternoon, good evening, and good night🧡

#male reader #bleach fanfiction #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x y/n #kenpachi zaraki x reader #bleach x male reader

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beevean · 6 months ago

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I think I understood another key with which to read Shizune's route, in particular her bad ending:

Hisao cheats on Misha if he gets overwhelmed by Shizune's personality.

Shizune means well, as she genuinely enjoys making people happy, but she is a controlling, overbearing person. This is the core of her character. I pointed out how she is the only girl who, the Saturday before the festival, doesn't wait for Hisao to come to her, but instead she is the one physically dragging Hisao out of his room. This is what she does: she drags people into her life, and then takes control, because otherwise she's not quite sure of how to keep people nearby.

This is not a good thing. Misha shows why it's not a good thing. Shizune kept Misha nearby despite her heartache - of course because she liked her as a friend, not just out of selfish reasons, but her "comparmentalizing" mentality still caused the poor girl pain.

If you choose to "comfort" Misha, we get this line:

After all, I've only had sex once before, and I was restrained to a chair. This time, I'm in control, like I'd wished then.

When Shizune and Hisao had sex at her place, she seized complete control. She tied him to a chair, which is the equivalent of gagging him, and then rode him, without him being able to do anything. Hisao noted that she seemed to alternate between aggressiveness and naiveté, like a girl pretending to be a woman: most likely, she also saw this act as a challenge to win. The thing is that Hisao didn't sound fully on board:

NARRATOR: "I wonder exactly when it was that I started being attracted to her. Not just attracted to her physically, but drawn to her. And, I wonder why. She's pretty, but then, also very combative. Not just that, but she seems to like being that way. The way she's acting now, however, and at other times, doesn't really fit that image. I'm starting to think that maybe her tying my hands might have been for more reasons than just the most obvious." NARRATOR: "Still, that aggressiveness that she flashes around as comfortably as a business card is real. I don't know whether or not that kind of attitude could be considered dangerous. If it is, I wonder what kind of person that makes me. It was probably the first week I was here. A week doesn't sound so long when I think about it, but at the time it did. Even though I pretty much thought my days were numbered that week, it still seemed to go by so slowly. Even if she can't hear me, it puts me at ease. I started to realize that I didn't have that much to complain about. But there's still... Well, never mind."

Hisao's sentiment is pretty much "it's nice, but". The last line might refer to his hesitation at having been put in this position of submission, which he decides to brush off, but still lingers.

He wanted control. He wanted at the very least a higher degree of freedom. The freedom Shizune didn't afford him, because Shizune has seized control of his life, and the only time Hisao is even allowed to make a choice, it's when she's nowhere to be seen.

And he can choose to break free from Shizune's control in the worst way possible, getting closer to the less overbearing Misha. Remember: the route falsely implies that Misha is crushing on Hisao, before the big reveal that she's actually interested in Shizune.

At this point, whether Hisao slept with Misha or not, Shizune realizes that she's been a bad friend and girlfriend for yanking people around, and she comes out with the grand plan of asking Hisao to cheer Misha up for her.

The branching point between good and bad ending is that in the latter, not only Misha never recovers, but Lilly shows up again.

This scene is mostly remembered for being a huge continuity error: what is she doing here, isn't she supposed to be in Scotland? That's true. But aside from this, it's interesting that Lilly has one last conversation with Hisao the moment his relationship with Shizune has started to irreversibly spiral.

This scene only exists for Lilly to voice Hisao's, and maybe the player's, thoughts about Shizune:

LILLY: "I wish you hadn't been so quick to join. I don't like the way Shizune runs the Student Council. Did you know that she scared off most of the old members? That is why I think she tries to surround herself with people who won't oppose her. And they don't. It's like a dependency bubble."

LILLY: "Is that so? Either way, there is no point in attempting to force them to make up. Always try to confront everything head-on is what Shizune would do, but it doesn't work in the real world. At some point, it's just being stubborn, not bravery or good intentions."

LILLY: "When I joined the Student Council, I thought it would just mean helping everything run smoothly and helping people out, like being the class representative. Instead, every day consisted of having Shizune stomp around, using Misha like a megaphone, to talk about how we had to outdo the last Student Council, and create more and more events, and make them increasingly larger."

HISAO: "Yeah, sure. The point is, I think I understand what it's all about now. You're really giving Shizune too much of a hard time." LILLY: "That might be true, but when it comes to how she treats individual people, she doesn't do very well." NARRATOR: "Unfortunately, that one is a little harder to argue."

It's all about Shizune's flaws. It's all about her abrasive personality, her stubborness. Lilly accuses her of wrapping herself in a dependancy bubble, of using Misha like a megaphone, and by the end, not even Hisao can defend her. He might understand Shizune's vision for the Student Council, but he has grown tired of everything Lilly has pointed out - after all, it's why he went behind her back, right?

And to an extent, he's right, because when things come to a breaking point, Shizune once again falls into her old selfishness: it's her who decides that she wants to be away from other people, because she has decided thar she's a terrible person who poisons every relationship of hers. Of course, Hisao really has no fucking right to call her selfish anymore, after what he did... but he does have a point. It's just sad under multiple angles.

Of course, you can also choose to see his decision to "comfort" Misha in another way: him succumbing to passivity once again.

"As much as I pretend to protest, I've allowed things to come to this point. Even though I knew so far ahead of when she actually came out with it that this was what she was getting at. At the very least, I was okay with this outcome. If I needed any more proof, it's simple: I still haven't turned her away. I could have at any point, and it was wrong of me not to do it sooner, but now, not doing so is something beyond simple carelessness."

Hisao goes along with having sex with Misha because welp, might as well at this point! She wants this, so sure, why not.

So in summary, Hisao pushing Misha away in the good ending might be seen as 1) him taking a decision without Shizune's influence at all, 2) him respecting both Misha and Shizune enough to do the right thing, without any resentment or lingering crush getting in the way.

Sadly I wish I had more to say about Shizune's good ending, because I like her route, but that ending has little to do with her as a character and it's more about the theme of graduating and moving on. It is to note, of course, that if you do get the good ending, Hisao is rewarded with another sex scene with Shizune, and this time he's able to gain the control he wanted, the two being finally equals. And at least Shizune is able to recognize her flaws without pushing her friends away, because she had proof that they care about her and she has a positive impact on them.

Shizune's route is fun to analyze. It doesn't have the major feels, and most of the complaints against it make sense, but reading between the lines was the intent and personally I have a lot of fun with it. It helps that Shizune is a very well written character, reasonably flawed but still compelling. Kind of a shame that the bad ending is better written than the good ending, though.

#katawa shoujo #shizune hakamichi #yes you can't stop me from writing meta about a 12 yo forgotten vn #i have the thoughts. the thoughts demand to be put on paper

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vossn · 3 months ago

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🩸✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨🩸

Thank you for the tag @ineadhyn ! Really excited to do this.

When did you start writing?

I started writing at age .. eleven, I think? It was a story about a girl getting taken to a parallel world populated by elves to save their world. Pretty cliché, but I also took some inspiration from some historical sources I liked at the time, so it did at least kickstart my knack for worldbuilding.

I wrote some more, I stopped, grew up, graduated, entered fandom spaces and remembered "hey, you used to love writing, what happened?" (depression, mostly). I wrote a modern AU for a game I was playing at the time. I stopped again. You'll never guess why. I made writer friends. I created a character I loved so much that I had to bring their story to paper and later created my novel project. I went from zero to hundred and haven't stopped in 3 years. The rest is history.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading more than what you write?

One thing I love that I don't really write much are humorous pieces. Those are my catnip. Other than that, I pretty much read what I write!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't have any big-name authors - but I do have some wonderfully talented friends and acquaintances that, if someone told me our writing was similar, I would be overjoyed. My friend keeps telling me I have a "film noir" style, and I do try to keep that going in everything I write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I prefer to write in cafés or libraries. Otherwise just at home on the couch or in bed, and those are far from glamorous. If i tell you I am writing, there is a 90% chance I am wearing nothing but boxer shorts and drinking coffee independently of the hour. I also light some incense or scented candles to write. Y'know, for the Omnissiah

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Go on a walk. Play some thematically completely unfitting music. Think long and hard about the vibes. Stop every 100m to make notes on your phone. This works best if it is 2am, I wish I was joking.

Alternatively: Swim for about 2km. Be alone with your thoughts and see where it takes you. Good luck remembering those ideas when you leave the water though.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Religious Imagery and discussion: This one is complicated, because I am technically raised close to atheist, but religion as a concept did have a huge pull on me as a child. If you grow up being told there is something wrong with you, the idea of "Some god made you, and you are exactly the way you are supposed to be" is a magical thing. Of course, reality looks different. Half surprise, half not? When I found out the RT fandom has a whole subsection of fics dealing with the symbols of the Inqusition I was like. well, this calls my name. Also I met some of my closest friends via the discussion of churches as a setting and very angry [redacted] in said churches so. Hello gang. 👋🏻

My ultimate tagline is "Violence as desire and desire as violence" and while the pattern did take me through some introspection, not surprised either.

Repression. Again, are we surprised? No. Not really. I'm generally very aware of my themes, I'd say, but please enlighten me if I forgot something. Submit me to the ordeal of being known etc etc

What is your reason for writing?

I do enjoy it, I have ideas, and those ideas need to out or start paying rent.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Nope! I enjoy all of them. You can get brownie points for citing favorite lines or saying something that makes me feel seen!

When two people I really look up to in terms of style described my prose as "clean" and "effortless" I just about died, because I never thought of myself that way. Same as when someone observes themes and patterns that even I haven't noticed. Also when a dear person replied to my WIP with "I'm going to eat your fingers", that made me laugh so hard I still think of it.

In short: You have something unhinged to say - Say it. I love comments so wild they have never been heard before.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

"Damn, there is something awfully wrong with that guy but I'm into it. Also that prose fucks."

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I hate how edgy this is going to sound, but my strength is writing darkness. Overdrawn emotions taken into the extreme - obsession, hatred, desire, but also coldness or hopelessness and despair. I love themes and emotions that don't exactly fall in the middle of the bell curve, because writing them is fun, and there is merit in exploring them. I often joke that my experiences at least enable me to write really weird stuff, but I mainly just favor these topics because it allows me to get really poetic with my language.

TL;DR: I put the lust in bloodlust.

How do you feel about your own writing?

This is a tricky question for me to answer at the moment, because I've been going through it™️ and my perception is clouded by that. Generally I'm pretty confident - I know my strengths and weaknesses and I know what I put out there is okay. On the other hand, I feel like the vulnerability is needed to keep me humble. Whenever I approach something with too much "I can do this!" it turns out dogshit. However, I feel at least that what I provide is unique to some degree.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy or might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Brother. Please take a look at my ao3 and tell me anything on there can be considered popular /s

I write for an audience of one - what I wrote is what I wanted to read. Quite a few of my works are so limited in their audience that they never make it to posting. I get ecstatic when people show interest, and that is the main reason I share, but I try not to keep an imaginary audience in my head when I write. It hinders me. I love doing gift works, and I approach them with the mindset of "I'm going to give you something that's for you specifically but still has my unique spin on it" and of course factor their enjoyment into my writing, but try not to overthink to the degree it stops my enjoyment.

Let it be said, I love my fandom friends, and want to write them all the things.

Tagging: @redbatchedcumbermayned and @galateaencore (only if you'd like, of course)

#this was so fun and very uplifting #new tagline: 'my strength isn't that I'm good but that I am insane'#tag game

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