#remade this because it was requested

[super-marvel-dc]

*Loki, Y/N and Hela watching Odin disappear into the wind*

Y/N: *Starts coughing*

Loki: *Concerned* are you all right?

Hela: Are you crying? It's o-

Y/N: I think I was standing in the way of your father and I accidentally snorted some of him.

[smartichoked]

i logged on to facebook for literally 2 minutes and my relative who freaks me out saw that i was online and messaged me

[delicatebarness]

My first request! What if an ex Widow with dirty history with the Winter Soldier (wink, wink) comes face to face with modern day Bucky.

"You can't hurt me, Barnes. You don't have his eyes"

his eyes | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI | Explicit Smut | DubCon | Past Trauma | Flashback | Captivity Themes | Weaponization | The Winter Soldier and Widow!Reader

Word Count: 1191

A/N: So, I don't feel like this is where you wanted this request to go. However, this is where my mind went. I hope you like it!

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes | @ruexj283

Present:

You hadn’t been here in a little over a decade, but your mind and body remembered the layout. Like muscle memory—you could move around here with your eyes closed. Once upon a time, you had. 

The warehouse smelled like dust and old sweat—it was the place where you sparred, bled, where you gave yourself to the Winter Soldier just to survive. 

A pair of heavy boots echoed on the concrete. It wasn’t a surprise when you felt his presence. You didn’t need to see him to know he was standing in the doorway. 

“You,” his voice was different. A little rough around the edges, but softer.

You turned around to face him, your arms crossed tight over your chest. “You took your time,” I said—dryly, guarded.

You shouldn’t have come here; you should have walked away. Fled the country the moment you heard his name—Bucky Barnes. That’s what they call him now, you were told. And although he’s wearing the name like a second skin, you could still see him underneath. You try not to, but he’s right there. The Soldier. 

Bucky stared at you like you were a ghost. A mission he failed to bury.

“You changed your hair.” 

He remembers. You smirk.

“You didn’t. You’re still broody. Quiet.”

“I’m not him anymore,” he retorted, expression darkening. 

“No,” you said, taking a step toward him, deliberate and slow. “You’re not.” 

You stop just close enough, just out of reach. 

He still towered over you, and your eyes flickered over his remade metal arm. The silver was gone. Along with his red star. Now, it gleamed black and gold. More monumental, less of a weapon.

Did he still dream in Russian? Was your name like blood in his mouth when he woke?

Then you look up at him—too-human eyes locking with yours.

“You can’t hurt me, Barnes. You don’t have his eyes.” 

His jaw ticked. He hates that you said that. But it was true. You thought maybe it was because a part of him wished he could take it all back. His cold hands against your skin, the bruising kisses, and the way he took you like you were nothing but orders. 

Then:

His hands were always clean. Even when they shouldn’t be. They locked you in here with him after every mission. And he barely looked at you. At first, anyway. He just sat. Silent. Elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and eyes fixed onto the floor like it had all the answers.

You were there to keep him calm. 

You were the only one who could.

“Are you cold?” you asked.

His knuckles flex, and his jaw tightens.

Keeping your posture fluid, you walked over to him slowly. You weren’t a threat to him. He could crush your windpipe with only his flesh hand, never mind the metal one. The one that always found its way around your thigh. 

He still didn’t look up at you. Not when you crouched in front of him, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing pain in your side. 

“Soldat,” you whispered, using the name they gave him. The name etched into your mind, along with command, override phrases, and the touch of his skin. 

His ice blue eyes snapped at you—sharp, dangerous, unreadable. He was a predator. And he looked at you like he recognised you as another weapon. Or prey. 

Without hesitation, you reach for the zipper of your suit. Slowly dragging it down, revealing the skin of your chest to him. His gaze darts towards the swell of your breasts.

He moves the second your suit slips off your shoulders. Surging from the cot, he grabs you. Muscle and metal blurring together in the dim light. Before you know it, your body is slammed against the cold wall, one of his arms braced beside your head. The other hand gripping your waist. 

He swallowed your gasp, crashing his lips into yours. He was hungry, all teeth. His kisses were brutal, like how he fights. A moan escapes your throat, parting your lips for him. His tongue claimed you, sliding in deep, tasting you. 

His metal hand slid down your waist, toward your thigh. Your knees nearly give up before he hauls your leg over his hip. He pressed the hardness in his tac pants into your centre. 

“Mine,” he growls in Russian against your mouth. His voice was harsh, low—not human.

“Yours,” you whispered. 

This was the routine.

You didn’t flinch when you heard the tear in your suit. His hands ripping it from your body before tracing, pinching, and bruising your flushed skin. He lacked tenderness, but not purpose. He knew your body, and he was focused. 

His mouth trailed down your neck, bites stinging, leaving his mark. Further and further down. Before you cried out for him. He sank to his knees. Bit. Licked. The softest part, between your thighs.

Your fingers tangled in his hair. 

“Fuck—” you cry, hips thrusting when his tongue finds your clit. He didn’t tease. He wasn’t slow. He was a starving man—devouring you, memorizing the way you taste for him. 

He knew you were close. His fingers slid inside you, thick, cold, metal curling just right. Your legs are beginning to shake. 

He didn’t stop. Not when you cried out. Not when your body clenched around him. Not when your release rushed through your body. He never stopped. 

He rose, locking his eyes with yours once again. Now, they were burning with a dark intent. Freeing himself from his tac pants, his cock was thick, flushed… leaking. His hands spread your legs further, enough for him to fit between them.

He didn’t ask for permission. He never did.

You didn’t know what asking even looked like.

Present:

“You think I want to be him?” he bit.

“No,” you stayed calm, measured. “But I think he wanted me.” 

A ripple of guilt passed over his face. You reached out, your fingers brushing his metal arm. Barely brushing it. He flinched like you’d struck him. There is a part of you—a part that broke for him—which ached. 

“You shake now,” your voice barely above a whisper, tracing the gold vein like trails. 

“I live now,” he answered quietly, more to himself than you.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat. Something inside you is cracking with understanding.

You looked up at him, a small smile spread over your lips. Your gaze is softer this time. “I could’ve loved the man you were.” 

“But that’s not who I was,” he sighed.

You nodded.

You wanted to walk away. You should have walked away. But your legs betrayed you, not letting you leave without asking the question. 

“If I said I missed him… would that make me sick?” 

He took a breath, collecting his thoughts before answering. “No,” he answered, eventually. “Just human.” 

There’s a moment that passes between you. A moment where you believe he’s about to step back into that old shell. Press you against the wall. Devour you one last time.

But he doesn’t.

You turn away.

And this time, he let you walk away. 

No orders. Just silence.

---

Thank you!

[anotherplumbob]

Uberhood 2024 Update By AnotherPlumbob (CC free)

The Uberhood is an ongoing PROJECT where I’m creating a Cc-free savefile, with all the worlds and lore from The Sims 2 ported to The Sims 4. 

NOTE: In this update I've revamped PLEASANTVIEW only - if you were interested in the other worlds or premades, please note they remain exactly as they were in the previous versions.

It currently includes

1.- Remade Worlds

Pleasantview (Newcrest+Willow Creek)

Strangetown (Strangerville+Oasis Springs)

Veronaville (Windenburg)

Bluewater Promenade (Magnolia Promenade)

Three Lakes (Granite Falls)

Bluewater Bay [only partially built] (Brindleton Bay)

All the career lots (detective, hospital and science lab).

BEWARE: the rest of the worlds are either empty, half built or a mess in general.

2.- Families

The save includes all the premade families as well as the iconic townies that lived in those worlds in The Sims 2 times. They all have jobs, relationships, sentiments, lifestyles, reputations, etc. For Pleasantview sims only I've also included more lore in the form of milestones, added traits, midlife crisis, etc.

3. Required packs and How to Install (PLEASE READ)

THE SAVE IS CC-FREE BUT ALL EXPANSION, GAME PACKS,STUFF PACKS AND KITS RELEASED UP UNTIL MARCH 2024. 

If you don’t have all packs, sims may be half naked, and/or bald and stuff may be missing. Install at your own risk. 

In order to install:

BACK UP YOUR SAVES.

Download the the SAVE file.

Put the save in your SAVES folder.  Documents > Electronic Arts > Sims 4 > Saves. I changed the name of the file so that it will hopefully not overwrite any of your saves (including the previous v1). If your system prompts you to overwrite a save, do not click yes. Just change the name of the save (keep it 8 numbers but change the numbers) and try again.

Optional: Put the .package file (StrangetownTexts.package) in your mods folder. This file is used to change the Strangerville mystery a bit, and turn it into the Strangetown mystery (with custom texts, references to the Bella mystery, etc.). Please install it if you want to have some clues on what happened to Bella!! 

4. Play Order

There’s really no set play order but note that:

1.- Brandi Broke is pregnant and will give birth in 3 days regardless of who you play and regardless of whether aging is on or off, so play with her first if you want to be there for the birth.

2.- Same thing applies to Pascal Curious, who’s also pregnant at the start of the save.

5. Disclaimer and TOU

I’m just one person and there may be some bugs here or there, or naked sims or whatever. Feel free to report any bugs you find but I will only fix them if I consider them super relevant or game breaking, otherwise the save is provided as is and you install it at your own risk.

Also please don't waste your breath asking me to do X world, or add lore to Veronaville or Strangetown or whatever, because I will only do it if and when I'm inspired to do it - and the requests quite honestly stress me out.

THE TERMS OF USE ARE: Be nice and don’s steal others creations! 

Download: Sim File Share - Filehosting for Simmers

[taevescence]

Masterlist

-> Welcome to my Masterlist!

After several tweaks and literal hours of work, I’ve finally remade the full masterlist for my blog. Here you’ll find all my original work. To keep things more organized, I also created two additional masterlists: this one includes my older works (mostly requests), and this features requests made after my hiatus. On top of that, you can also check out some short pieces (mostly fluffy ones) I write on a whim ^^

-> Key:

♡= Fluff | ♧= Smut | ◇= Angst | ♤= Suggestive | ☆= Crack

SHE'S ALL I WANNA BE (Band!AU) [5.4k] ♡ ◇

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1 / pt2

-Summary: You’ve loved Jin in silence for years. You’ve been his best friend, his safe place, the one constant in his life. You waited patiently, reading between the lines, believing that one day he’d finally see you as something more. And just when you thought that moment had come, he introduced you to his girlfriend—the first one since you’ve known him. Now, with your heart wavering between habit and longing, you don’t know whether to give up… or fight for him.

MADE FOR LEAVING (Band!AU) ♧ ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: How did they meet? / ...

-> Summary: What you had didn’t have a name. You weren’t a couple. You didn’t talk about the future. You didn’t ask questions. But you shared a bed, a routine, and that kind of intimacy that only grows when love disguises itself as habit.

For five years, you were together—and even if neither of you ever said it out loud, you both knew it was more than just desire. It wasn’t normal for two “friends” to live together, or to wear matching necklaces with your initials, or to adopt a cat.

It was supposed to be casual. You were supposed to be on the same page.

Until he wanted to give it a name.

Until the idea of ruining everything over a ring made you run.

LIES UNDER LACE (Band!AU) ◇ ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: It’s been years since college, but Hoseok is still a constant in your life. Your best friend. Your safe place. The one person who’s stood by you even when everything else fell apart.

You both took different paths, with rings on your fingers and promises made to other people. And for a while, it seemed like everything was in place. Like you were both happy.

Until that night.

Until you opened a door you weren’t supposed to, and saw him —your husband— with Hoseok’s fiancée. Kissing. Laughing. As if you didn’t exist. As if years of loyalty could be erased in a moment.

Now you carry a secret that burns in your throat.

Do you tell Hoseok and destroy the wedding… or stay silent and betray the only real thing you have left?

(UN)WANTED LOVE (Band!AU) ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: You didn’t come here to fall in love. You came to work—to keep emotions out of the equation, to be efficient, strategic, untouchable. After all, how could you trust anyone again when the love of your life left you right before proposing?

Namjoon is the opposite of everything you’re trying to avoid: thoughtful, patient, curious. He watches you like he wants to understand every layer, like he doesn’t mind that you never smile without reason or only speak when necessary.

You’re his manager. He’s your responsibility.

But then he walks you home after a tour. Then he learns how you like your coffee. Then he writes songs he swears aren’t about you… even though they are. And before you even realize it, what you tried so hard to control begins to unravel.

Because he doesn’t ask you to be different—he just hopes you’ll allow yourself to feel.

And that’s the most dangerous part of all.

LIGHTS, CAMARA... REGRET (Band!AU) ♧ ♡ ◇

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: Years ago, when he was just a boy with too many dreams and too little to offer, you called him a failure. You said you couldn’t keep waiting for someone with no future. You left him heartbroken, with an unfinished song and the bitter taste of a promise you never meant to keep.

Now, you’re a famous actress. A movie star with millions of fans and awards on your shelf. And him… he’s the keyboardist for the biggest pop-rock band in the world.

When he sees you again, he doesn’t believe in coincidences. This is fate, and this time, he’s the one in control.

He’s going to get close. He’s going to make you fall. He’s going to make you believe there’s still something between you. And when you finally let your guard down, when you believe he’s here to stay… he’s going to leave. Just like you once did.

That was the plan.

Until you smile the way you used to. Until you start inspiring songs he thought he’d never write again. Until he no longer knows if he’s playing for revenge… or because somewhere along the way, he fell for you all over again.

EVERYTHING BUT LOVE (Band!AU) ♡ ◇ ♤

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: First Encounter / ...

-> Summary: Since you were a child, your life has been a public spectacle. First, the child prodigy from Disney, then the pop star everyone wanted to hear, and now… now your name is in the headlines for the wrong reasons.

Social media hates you. Fans are confused, some even doubt you. Your team gives you one option: Create an alibi. And to get the public back on your side, all you need is for everyone to believe you’re dating someone.

But not just anyone. Him.

Kim Taehyung, the guitarist from the world’s biggest pop/rock band, the mysterious man who never speaks about his personal life, but whose charisma makes him one of the most desired figures on the planet.

No one knows much about him, not even his own friends. But for some reason, he offers you his help. Without hesitation. No questions.

What starts as a simple lie turns into something neither of you expected. And little by little, you realize that all those things you promised your team… aren’t as fake as you thought.

ECHOES OF LOVE [16.9k] ◇ ♡

-> Summary: You and Taehyung had a passing relationship four years ago, a relationship that felt like a hurricane; fleeting, sweeping, destructive. You had left a mark on him, one that, even as the years passed, was still present, and, no matter what he did, it seemed unwilling to go away.

GUILTY AS SIN? ◇ ♧

-> Summary: You have just entered your new job as an intern in a hospital you worked so hard to get into; at last, after so many years, you had managed to fulfill your dreams, little by little, step by step. You had finished your studies with honors, you had a beautiful -and luxurious- apartment in the center of the city, you had just entered the job of your dreams and your relationship with your dream boyfriend was going great.

Or so you thought until you met Kim Taehyung, the clinical mentor you were in charge of, who doesn't seem to mind keeping his opinion about your relationship and your idealized vision - in his own words - of your life.

PLAYER 204 (SquidGame!AU)

-> Summary: Things in your life had started to fall apart the moment your father passed away. Not only had you lost a part of your family, someone important to you, someone who raised you with blood, sweat and tears; you lost everything, literally. How could you believe that your father, the person you trusted the most, had left you with a ridiculously large debt? There was no possible way you could pay it off, and you definitely wouldn't tell your boyfriend.

You were desperate, you would do anything to get rid of that burden, even if it meant going to some children's games to fight against 456 other people, after all, they were just that; simple children's games.

POÈME (Vampire!AU) [4.6k]

-> Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all?

BETTER THAN HIM (Band!AU) ♡ ◇ ♧

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: Princess Treatment / ...

-> Summary: Jungkook doesn’t remember when he started loving you, he only knows it was long before you realized it—long before you started looking in the wrong direction.

He’s seen you laugh out of habit, endure out of obligation, justify the unjustifiable just to avoid being alone.

And even if it’s not his place—yet—he’s decided to speak up.

Because you deserve more. And he’s ready to prove it, even if it means getting in the middle of your relationship.

CROSS THE LINE ♡ ♤

>> Spin-off from Echoes Of Love

pt1 / pt2

-> Summary: After years of working with Jungkook, your insecurity about your feelings for him begins to grow and become more complex, bringing you to the point where you wonder if you can really keep fooling yourself or if it's time to face those feelings.

BRING ON THE NIGHT (Band!AU)

-> Summary: Get to know the life of the members of Bring On The Night! The pop/rock band of the moment that has a whole generation addicted to their music, lyrics and performers.

[xinfinityl0ve17]

Yukari Ōba

Yukari Ōba is the exclusive fashion designer for MALICE MIZER. All of their costumes are her work.

People with titles like "planner," "editor," or "writer" often like to separate their jobs into small roles. As a result, some people end up with two or three titles and end up saying how busy they are. Among them i think the profession of designer is currently being broken down into the most minute distinctions. It’s not just about people who create design sketches, cut fabrics, or shape the garments—there are specialists in hats, accessories, knitwear, and so on. I can understand if someone with a foot fetish only wants to make things related to feet, but recently, something’s been bothering me. It starts with the question of whether it's okay to refer to Ōba-san simply as a "costume designer."

She’s responsible for the image of MALICE MIZER after their revival. Under the name of costumes, accessories, and hairstyling, she handles everything from patchwork to welding (pay attention to KAMI's hands this time) to even the stage props. Can we really call her a "designer" or "costume person" in just one second?

However, as I was agonizing over this, Ōba-san spoke enthusiastically, saying, "This part was really difficult, look at it! Oh, and here too..." She talked joyfully about how she changed the fabrics little by little and factored in lighting effects. She said with a laugh, "People often tell me, 'No one will notice you went that far,' but I love doing it." Through her words, I understood one thing: Ōba-san doesn't care what she's called, as long as she can create costumes. It’s her passion. That's why such lively, remarkable costumes are born from her work.

Mana

Mana had told me, "I imagine the feathers gently falling off!" (laughs). It wasn’t meant to change that much, but after making it, I thought, "I want to make it cuter," partly because too much of the legs were showing. I used a fabric called washer organza for the feathers, and also incorporated it into the underskirt, creating a tutu-like effect with about four layers to add volume. The pom-poms were something Mana brought in, saying, "I want to attach these somewhere," and when he attached them herself, she said, "It's cute!" (laughs). Actually, he also made the wig and chains with his own hands.

The butterflies on the wings aren’t real, of course (laughs), but I dyed each one individually. Even in places where it seems casual, there’s a lot of effort behind it (laughs). The fabric for the costume was something Mana requested, saying he wanted a luxurious material that looks like beads. I brought various options and he was especially fond of this one fabric because it’s very light. He even said, "It feels like I’m wearing nothing, this is perfect!" (laughs). It was a hit (laughs). As for the accessories, he said he wanted something with the feel of a wedding fountain with light shining inside it (laughs). I remade it several times to create something that bounces back when touched.

We also tore up light blue feathers and embedded them. We worked hard on even the smallest details that might seem like nothing at first glance (laughs). To make sure the guitar strap doesn’t get tangled, I discreetly made the wings detachable with Velcro (laughs).

Közi

Közi is someone who likes to plan everything from the start. When I first saw the design, I thought of a fiery phoenix, so I decided to make it based on that image. The fabric is the same as Mana's but in a different color. He said, "I've worn something like this before." This time, he wanted something that resembled a jumpsuit. Even though it has no elasticity, I went ahead and made it, but when he wore it, he said, "It's tight..." (laughs). Even though it was restrictive, he’s someone who enters the role through appearance.

The feathers on the chest were dyed with a gradient because I wanted to add that effect, but balancing it was tricky. While adjusting during the fitting, I mixed in red, which is his signature color. This jumpsuit also has Velcro to make it easier for the guitar strap to pass through. The accessories ended up looking very different from the design sketches because when we attached them to the sleeves, it made playing the guitar difficult (laughs). So, when we finished one sleeve, we decided to wrap it around his neck, creating a more luxurious design. The wings on his back are made from aurora film, which changes color depending on the light, appearing red or gold. The material is aluminum, making it very heavy, but the overall cohesiveness of the costume is strong, so he managed to play with it as it was. As for the strawberry hat, we added three-dimensionality using feathers, doubling its size at Közi’s request.

By the way, when he wears the costume, he’s 196 cm tall, from his shoes to the top of his head (laughs). All the members end up being around that height, right? So we make the inseam 100 cm. People always ask, "Who on earth is going to wear these?" (laughs).

Yu~ki

He had an image of a "beast" in mind, and even Yu~ki himself said, "This is quite an adventure." The skirt was actually his first try—a dress made of enamel, something we figured out together during the fitting process. It’s a double-layered design, with the back being longer and slits cut into it, creating this eerie look. The bones are designed to resemble human bones, adding shadow to enhance the effect. The back is made of two layers of umbrella-like fabric, with a sheer fabric sandwiched in between to create a shadow effect. At first glance, it looks like a single layer, but there's a lot of depth (laughs). In terms of time, his costume was the fastest to make because once Yu~ki decides on a design, he sticks to it.

Yu~ki, from the start, based his look on the initial image and always strives to get as close to it as possible. The hardest part was dealing with the enamel fabric's texture. Although we wanted it to look big, enamel has this shiny, slick look, so we used a technique like gathering to create a pinched effect, making it appear more three-dimensional, even under lights. This time, it's sleeveless, but the tattoos he recently got give it a good balance. However, it seems it takes quite a long time to paint his arms, which is a challenge (laughs).

Kami

For Bel Air, it seems that the design he envisioned was difficult to realize. This time, I adjusted the shape of the collar slightly upwards to make it easier to take off. Since taking off the costume was a concern, I incorporated his favorite Rurubar lace in two layers and embroidered it with CD sequins to give off a subtle shimmer, ensuring that the fans could see the light reflecting off it. The sequins were also added to the wings, inspired by his recent thematic focus. They create a fantastical effect, with a gradient from blue to purple as the light shines on them. The wings are the largest element, but they’re lightweight, which allowed Kami to say, "I want to perform while wearing them" (laughs).

For the headpiece, i dyed a cup and embedded black feathers as an accent giving it a mysterious shape that he can just throw on. Lately, he’s been wanting to wear a pink wig that he bought himself, but it’s a bit too intense, so I’m thinking of adding some mesh to tone it down (laughs). The overall concept was inspired by looking at an insect encyclopedia, specifically butterflies. Additionally as Kami insisted from the beginning, there’s a tail attached (laughs).

Gackt

This time, all the members wanted to have wings, so that served as the basis for the design. The members had very detailed requests, particularly Gackt, who was inspired by his favorite movie, The Crow. He wanted the outfit to highlight his beautiful body lines, so while the design is simple, it also needed to allow for movement. Ideally, I would have preferred a stretchy material, but I was determined to use cotton velvet, which has a dark and moody atmosphere, while also creating the effect of gold shining through the darkness.

The cotton velvet, combined with cut velvet, made sitting difficult for Gackt, but when the light hits it, the gold stands out clearly against the black backdrop. The wings, which he was very particular about, were designed in three layers. When closed, they fold up slightly, but when fully opened, they span 4 meters. For live performances, Gackt uses strings to control them, allowing the wings to spread open. The construction is sturdy, with hidden mechanisms for the strings, making the wings quite heavy. The wings were made using about four different patterns, and sequins were added so that when the light hits them, they appear three-dimensional. We used an incredible amount of feathers for the wings as well.

The end

[thewritingrowlet]

The Freshman (Remake), ft. tripleS Yoon Seoyeon

tags: first time, creampie

length: 10k

author's note: It's the remix to Ignition The Freshman, hot and fresh out the kitchen, mama rollin' that body got every man in here wishin'

Anyway, I decided to do something different this time; I remade The Freshman because I wasn't entirely satisfied with how that one originally turned out—I was super new and was super terrible at writing (still am, btw). I hope you like this remake! <3

-

Today is August 12th, the first day of Freshers’ Week at your university. Professor Son, the head of Computer Science department, had asked you personally to be one of the seniors to lead a group of freshmen throughout the Week and continue to offer help and advice whenever they may need it, even after the orientation period has finished. She told you that she was very impressed that you were able to maintain over 3.7 GPA (4.00 was peak—3.7 was “rock-bottom”) in the 2 years you’ve been studying while being active as a basketball player for the university’s team at the same time.

You were hesitant to take her up on the request at first because you had wanted to take this holiday period to relax and gather yourself after such a stressful semester. However, you recalled the way your senior had helped you when you were a freshman yourself; how he motivated and set an example to you and your groupmates. With that in mind, you put your holiday plans to the side, said yes, and went on a training period to become a group leader.

Your watch shows 5:30 am. You just finished the morning briefing with the other group leaders and the rest of the Freshers’ Week committee. In less than an hour, the freshmen will start gathering in the football field and you will start your duties as a group leader for these new faces. You are very nervous as you are not very sociable with new people, but you see this as an opportunity to help you be more comfortable being in the spotlight and present in public—the promised payment is too good to pass up as well.

You and the rest of the group leaders stand in a row while holding a sign with the group name and number written on it. You see the freshmen start lining up in front of their respective leaders, including yourself. Some look like they just woke up, others look excited to start their new life as a university student, as you were back then. Initially, no male or female freshman caught your attention with their looks, until the last freshman joins your group’s line. You quickly peek at the attendance list on your clipboard and find the name of this last person: Yoon Seoyeon, from Chungnam Girls’ High School in Daejeon. “That’s quite the distance”, you think. As you turn your attention away from the attendance list, you see her walking up to you. Just before she gets to you, you manage to pick up some details from her looks: big eyes, small lips, fluffy cheeks—she’s also wearing a bow tie in your favorite color, light blue (or is that Dodger blue?).

Lock it in, she’s holding out her hand to shake yours. “Good morning, sunbaenim. My name is Yoon Seoyeon”, she says. You find yourself staring deep into her eyes for a second before reaching out to shake her hand; you have never felt anything like this before—is this what they call love at first sight? “Good morning to you as well, Seoyeon-ssi”, you greet her warmly, “stand in line, please”. You expect her to stand at the end of the line, but to your surprise, she takes the spot right in front of you, beaming as she does. “In line”, she says cutely, and you can’t help but smile in response.

You hear the sound of someone testing the mic over the speakers, which indicates that this whole thing is moments away from kick-off. “One, two—one, two, three”. You can’t see the speaker, but based on the voice, it must be Doctor Park, the dean of the Faculty of Medicine and the head of the Freshers’ Week committee. “Good morning, everyone!’, her voice is laden with excitement, “welcome to the university, my dear freshmen—how’s everyone today?”. Judging by her chuckles and giggles that you hear over the speakers, the people close to her must be saying nice things to her—which is good; she’s such a brilliant professor and an even greater person, and students love her a lot.

“Group leaders, look at your attendance list for me, please”, she says, “if there’s anyone in your group who has a medical condition, guide them to me and we’ll talk to them”. You do as she says and look at your list, and thankfully, no one has any medical conditions. Unlike your group, however, the group next to you do have someone. “Are we okay, sunbaenim?”, Seoyeon asks. “Yeah, I think we are”. Your gaze meets hers, and she shows you such a precious smile. You expect her to look away in shyness, but she doesn’t; she just keeps looking at you with so much confidence—it’s you who folds first, and it’s because you feel your cheeks getting hot. “Fuck, if only I could find something to talk about”, you think to yourself, desperate for even the smallest of help to save you from the awkwardness.

“Once they’re back, leaders, you’re going to take your group to the classrooms that have been assigned to you—see you around, everyone!”. The doctor leaves the football field and goes about her day, and you hear some people collectively saying goodbye to her. You return your attention back to your group, and you can see that some people have started talking among themselves, which is very nice—oh, look: someone’s tapping Seoyeon’s shoulder from behind. She turns around with a smile and starts talking to the girl behind her. You see them pulling out their phones, probably to get each other’s contacts, and admittedly, you’re glad that things are starting out well for her—not sure why you’re so attentive to her, though.

-

Your group, 127, shares the same classroom with groups 125, 126, and 128. Each group split themselves in two rows and sit facing each other, and then the group leaders sit wherever they can and blend in with their respective groups. “Good morning, everyone”, you greet your group, “let’s start by having a toilet break—does anyone need to go to the toilet?”. You see 3 girls and 1 guy raise their hands, so you tell them to make a line at the door and wait for other toilet-goers.

You were too busy looking at your papers that you didn’t notice that Seoyeon has scooted over towards you. “Excuse me, sunbaenim”, she says, “I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing each other a lot in the next few days, and I was wondering if we can start speaking more casually”. For a freshman, her confidence is second to none. “Of course, Seoyeon-ah; you can call me oppa—or hyung, if you feel like it”, you feel your cheeks getting hot again, “have you thought about which student organization you want to join?”. “I want to continue my student council career”, she says, “do you think that’s a good idea?”. You have friends in the student council; you can play a little nepotism game and help Seoyeon join it—let’s not reveal it to her just yet though. “I think it is”, you say, “you obviously have the experience and know what it’s like to be in the council”.

Before you know it, the toilet-goers have returned to the classroom. In your head, you expect Seoyeon to move back to her previous position, but she doesn’t; she asks the other person to swap seats with her and stays close to you. Your heart starts getting excited, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself—it’d be very embarrassing if Seoyeon turns out to not be interested in you, wouldn’t it?

Kim Suhyeon, the leader of group 128, signals to you with her hands and asks you to come to her, so you do. “I think we can start now, oppa”, she says. You nod to her and take the stage in front of the whiteboard with her. “Attention, please”, you say, “first of all, we’d like to extend Doctor Park’s greetings and welcome you to the university”. In the corner of your eyes, you notice that Kim Sungmin and Nam Jungmin—leaders of 125 and 126 respectively—are on their way to join you. “I’m sure you already know what our names are but allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Oh Hanbin; I’m a year 3 student from the Faculty of Engineering”, you introduce yourself, getting collective nods from everyone present, “I’ll let the others introduce themselves and then we’ll start this whole thing”. The other 3 people take turns introducing themselves to the crowd, starting with Sungmin, Jungmin, and finally, the little princess (because she’s the only sophomore among juniors in your quartet), Suhyeon.

Now that introductions are out of the way, you can proceed to the next step, which is to play a small game. “We’ll give you three minutes to know as many people as you can, and then we want you to group up based on different conditions—the timer starts now”. People start getting on their feet and scramble around the classroom to introduce themselves to each other. You eye the members of your group, and you guess that some of them already have friends in the other groups based on how they start laughing and high-fiving other people. Seoyeon, on the other hand, seems to be stressing out, as she keeps running around the room to quickly introduce herself to people. “How cute”, you think.

“Alright, everyone, time’s up!”, Suhyeon announces, stopping people on their tracks. “Let’s start the game, everyone. On the count of 3, you have 2 minutes to find people whose name starts with the same letter as yours—Juhyeon and Jihoon, Siwoo and Sunwoo, and so on”, she explains the first criteria of the game, and the freshmen start getting antsy, “one, two, three—timer starts now!”. The chaos immediately ensues; those who happen to be far from their group start running around frantically, including Seoyeon, who happens to be standing quite far away from others whose name starts with S. “Remember: no curses, everyone; we are an educated bunch”, Suhyeon reminds the crowd—they’re too busy playing the game, though.

“That’s time, everyone!’, she announces, thus marking the end of the first round, “now let’s see how you did”. She walks to the group that Seoyeon is a part of and starts asking everyone’s name: Sunwoo, Seoyeon, Soobin, Seunghan, Soojin, Seokmin. “Nah, nah, nah—sunbaenim, he’s lying!”, says someone from across the room, “his name is Kang Minseok, and he went to the same high school I did”. Everyone explodes in laughter; someone actually snitched on their friend and caused them to get punished. Suhyeon chuckles and shakes her head in amusement, “you’re not slick, Minseok-ah—to the front, please”.

Suhyeon continues her examination and finds a few more suspects; there’s a girl named Minji, and a guy named Minwoo, but instead of grouping up, they’re standing far apart from each other. “What’s with you M people”, Suhyeon laughs, “alright, join your fellow M on the stage, please”.

As Minji and Minwoo walk to join Minseok in front of the whiteboard, the classroom door swings open, revealing Doctor Park behind it. “Ah, you must be having fun”, the doctor looks around the classroom, “should I come back later?”. You rush to the door to greet the doctor, since everyone is too busy standing idle. “We were having a little game, doctor—please, come in”, you say. “Thank you, Hanbin-ah”, she shows you a kind smile, “I’ll wait until you guys are done with your games”.

Doctor Park greets the three standing in front of the whiteboard and asks why they’re standing there. “They’re getting punished for failing at the game, doctor”, you explain, and she reminds you to not embarrass anyone during Freshers’ Week. “Certainly not, doctor; we won’t ask anything crazy of them”, you assure her.

You stand next to the three suspects and ask them to introduce themselves and share with the class what they want to achieve in university. Minji says that she wants to go on a student exchange program abroad, which, according to the university’s policies, will allow her to skip doing thesis. Minwoo says that he wants to graduate quickly and work at his parents’ company right after, like a typical nepo baby (his words, not yours). Minseok, on the other hand, “uh, I don’t know exactly yet. I do want to graduate quickly, though”. During all of this, the doctor is looking at them kindly with a smile on her face, the same way she did to you when you were a freshman yourself—it’ll be a very sad day when Doctor Park retires from teaching, that’s for sure.

-

It is 100% true that time flies when you’re busy or having fun, because the clock shows that it’s almost time for lunch break after what felt like an hour—this also means that Doctor Park had been speaking for nearly 4 hours straight before she left a few minutes ago. Anyway, it’s time for another toilet break before lunch—the food delivery guy(s) should be here soon as well.

As luck would have it, moments after the toilet-goers have left with Jungmin and Sungmin, the lunchboxes arrive. “Yo, yo, yo”, Sunwoo, a logistics guy, greets you while holding two big plastic bags full of lunchboxes in each hand, “help us, Hanbin-ah”. You and Suhyeon help Sunwoo and his friend and take the bags from their hands. The bags are tagged with the group’s numbers, and each lunchbox is labeled accordingly for vegetarians and vegans. You don’t have a vegetarian or a vegan in your group, but Suhyeon has a vegetarian and Jungmin has a vegan in their groups, so you know that they’ll appreciate the attention to detail. “Thanks, guys. See you guys later”, you give each of them a fist bump and send them on their way.

This morning, the logistics guys told you that you must put the empty lunchboxes (and other trash) in the bags they came in and throw them out like that, so with that in mind, you fold the bag and shove it in your back pocket for later use. While you wait for the freshmen to come back from the toilet, you pull out your phone and take a second look at the schedule. “A joint session at the library hall after this—okay, cool”.

Before you know it, your freshmen are back, seemingly refreshed after stretching their legs and emptying their tanks. They sit in two rows again, and you start handing out the lunchboxes to them. “Hand this over to the person next to you, okay?”, you start from Seoyeon, who hands it to Jiwon, who then continues the train until the back of the line.

“Wait”, you stop momentarily, “there’s only one left and there’s two of us”. You look at the other groups and see that everyone, including the leaders, have a lunchbox in their hands. Obviously, you don’t want to keep food from Seoyeon, so you give her the last lunchbox. “What about you, oppa?”, she asks, and you tell her that you’ll be fine. “I’ll live—just eat, Seoyeon-ah”. You will live, yes, but this is still a problem. You hop on the committee’s group chat and tell them that your group is one lunchbox short. “We’ll look into it”, someone from the logistics says, and those words are your tasty and tummy-filling lunch.

-

After the big, joint session at the library hall, it’s now time for the freshmen to go home. The freshmen don’t really get to go anywhere by themselves, even if it’s time for them to go home. Your group lines up behind you (Seoyeon doesn’t take the spot behind you this time) and you wait with them until you’re allowed to start walking out of the building. There’s a traffic management crew whose job is to make sure no congestion happens, especially in the narrower corridors.

“Let’s gather over there before we go home”, you point at an empty gazebo that’s located in next to library building. You give them your number and make a group chat for them, “here, you can join by scanning this QR”. You hand your phone over to Jiwon, who then scans the code and passes your phone over to the next person. You wait until everyone has taken their turn and take your phone back from Sohee. “That’s everyone, right?”. You look at the group info and see that everyone has joined, “right, you guys can go home now”.

You give those who are leaving a fist bump and tell them that you’ll be seeing them again tomorrow. You fail to notice that among your freshmen, Seoyeon is staying behind with you at the gazebo. “You alright?”, you ask. “Yes, I am”, she replies, “so what now?”. You explain to her that you still need to attend today’s evaluation and basketball practice after that, and on the other hand, she’s free to leave. “You play basketball, oppa?”, she asks. Whether it’s a genuine question or not (considering the height difference between the two of you), you answer genuinely and add to the explanation: “I’m the team’s captain, Seoyeon-ah”. She just nods to you with a flat face, and you guess that she’s not that interested in the subject. “I’m leaving then—bye, oppa!”, she waves at you as she walks away, leaving you alone at the gazebo.

-

As soon as Seoyeon enters her apartment, she gets a call from her high school best friend, Yeonsu. She also happens to be desperate to go to the toilet, though, so she lets the call go unanswered for now. After her toilet break and change of clothes, she’s now ready to call her friend.

“Hello”

“Hi, hello. Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah, I was—where were you?”

“Well, the campus, obviously. Today was the first day of Freshers’ Week” Yeonsu and Seoyeon were supposed to go to the same university but there were factors that caused them to split up. The best friends then start exchanging stories from their first day as university students—these two never spend a day without knowing what the other person is up to.

“My group leader is named Oh Hanbin”, Seoyeon says, but Yeonsu stays silent, thus confusing Seoyeon, “Yeonsu-yah, are you there?”

“Did you say Oh Hanbin?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Fuck, there’s no way”

Seoyeon doesn’t understand why her friend is reacting like this, so she asks Yeonsu to explain, and the answer she gets is “Oh Hanbin is so fucking famous, Seoyeon-ah”.

“He is? How did you know?”

“Fuck, have you been living under a rock? He’s known for a bunch of things”

“Like what?”

“He’s good at basketball and he’s even better in class—he’s also handsome, but that’s personal preferences”

“Are you serious?”

”Do I sound like I’m lying right now?”

No, she doesn’t—if anything, Yeonsu sounds very enthusiastic right now, as if wishing that it was her that got to meet Oh Hanbin.

“Do you have a crush on this guy, Ryu Yeonsu?”

“Oh, please don’t lie to me, Yoon Seoyeon; there’s no denying how attractive he is”

Seoyeon starts cranking the gears in her head, trying to remember what you, Oh Hanbin, was like: tall guy, well-built, good manners, and just a decent person all-around. “Oh, wait—oh my God!”, Seoyeon exclaims as the memory returns to her, “he gave me his lunch, Yeonsu-yah!”. Seoyeon can picture her friend’s jaw dropping in shock. “No, he didn’t—there’s no fucking way!”, Yeonsu’s disbelief is apparent, “why would he give you his lunch?”. Seoyeon explains to her friend that her group was short by one lunchbox and that you gave her the last one in the bag so that she could have lunch.

As the conversation keeps going, Seoyeon realizes that she’s starting to think that you’re attractive to her, and from that point on, her thoughts start running wild: she imagines what it’d be like to be close to you, what it’d be like to sit on the stands during one of your games, and finally, what it’d be like to have her first time with you. “Fuck, am I even ready for that? Would I even be his first? If he’s as famous as Yeonsu says, then he must’ve had many girlfriends”, Seoyeon thinks to herself, ignoring whatever Yeonsu is telling her. She decides that she needs more time to think about this. “Fuck, Yeonsu-yah, I’m sorry but I really need to go—I’ll call you again soon”, she says, and she ends the call right after.

Seoyeon forces her brain to come up with something to find out more about you. “Can I just search his name on Google or something?”. She opens the browser app on her phone and types in your name, “God, please work; tell me something about him”.

The first search result is your professional network page, which you thankfully keep up to date. “Best graduate out of high school, hm?”, Seoyeon sees the first thing listed under your picture. “Oh my God, Yeonsu was right; Dean’s List with 4.00 GPA last semester!”, she exclaims, her big eyes widen even more thanks to the surprise, “and the captain of the basketball team, too—didn’t make it to the finals last year, though”. Seoyeon doesn’t know what to do with this information, but she’s sure that it’ll be useful very soon. “I should ask him about this tomorrow”.

-

So here you are, back at the field again after the early briefing. Someone from logistics brought up your misfortune from yesterday and personally apologized to you. You were also told that you won’t get a lunchbox again today and tomorrow, since the catering service just can’t be tasked with adding one more lunchbox, apparently. That said, the committee gives you a solution in the form of reimbursement; you can get whatever and spend however much, and then you just need to give them the receipt and they’ll reimburse you. One more thing to point out is that they said that you’ll be tasked with getting to know the freshmen better and building a good relationship with each of them.

Today you opt for a red shirt and black trousers to complement the brown jacket that the university gave out for Freshers’ Week. You hope that Seoyeon approves of this color combination, because as you realize last night after practice, you’re starting to fall for her, and you sincerely hope that she’ll reciprocate the feelings and not push you away (because that’d be disastrous, wouldn’t it?).

You’re standing at the same spot as yesterday, and while you wait for your freshmen, you get into some conversation with Suhyeon and Jungmin. “Did you actually not have lunch yesterday, oppa?”, Suhyeon asks. “I didn’t. I gave the last one to Seoyeon-ie”, you try to not sound too proud of yourself, “I did get burgers before practice yesterday, though”. Suhyeon loves burgers, and the fact that you didn’t ask her to get some with you is making her slightly irritated. “You owe me burgers, oppa”.

Over Suhyeon’s shoulders, you see Seoyeon walking towards you with a smile on her face. You push Suhyeon to the side to greet the smiling cutie. “Good morning, Seoyeon-ah”, you say with a smile, copying her positivity. “Good morning, oppa. How are we feeling today?”, she says. Hearing her say “we” makes your heart rate jump to the moon, but you quickly compose yourself. “I’m doing very well, Seoyeon-ah. I’m very excited, actually; they said that we’ll be getting to know each other much better today”. She promptly looks away to hide her blush and turns her face towards you again after a few moments. “Th-that’s great to hear, oppa”, she says, “I’ll tell you everything about myself, so I hope you will too”.

You quickly scan her outfit from top to bottom: light blue shirt and brown pants. You step closer towards her so that Suhyeon or Jugmin won’t hear what you’re about to say. “Seoyeon-ah, you look good in these colors”, you praise her sense of fashion. “I-I remember seeing you holding a blue clipboard yesterday, and-and I thought maybe I should wear blue today”, she says. You really want to let out a squeal of excitement right now, but it’s very out-of-character that people might think that it’s cringe.

-

You and your group sit in a circle in the same classroom as yesterday, and Seoyeon sits right across from your position. “Alright, guys”, you start the conversation, “today is all about us; we can talk about whatever we want”. Seoyeon immediately raises her hand. “Oppa, I heard that you’ve made it to the Dean’s List with 4.00 GPA”, she says, “tell us about it, please”. You didn’t expect her to have that information, and despite feeling a little shy at first, you decide to talk about it anyway because good things should always be celebrated. “That’s true; I’ve made it on the Dean’s List a few times”, you start, “look, I’m sure people have their own ideas as to how long they should be studying for in a week, but because I also have basketball on the side, I only study around 10 to 12 hours a week.”

You think that it’s a small number but based on people’s surprised gasp (it sounds genuine, by the way), you guess that people think that it’s a pretty big number. “You didn’t make it to the finals last year, did you, oppa?”, Seoyeon piles on. “We didn’t, yeah”, you sigh, “we choked during the last few minutes of the semifinal game”. As you think about her chain of questions, it becomes obvious that she most likely looked up your name on the internet, because she wouldn’t have known any of this if she hadn’t—it is flattering, just to be clear.

Before it snowballs into a two-person conversation, you turn your attention to other freshmen and see if maybe they have things to talk about. “How many exes do you have, oppa?”, Sohee asks. You shyly confess that you’ve never dated anyone before, and Sohee seems to be disappointed by your answer. “You’re boring, oppa”, she rolls her eyes playfully. “I am boring, Sohee-yah; all I do is sit in front of my computer and play basketball”, you say with a chuckle.

As you turn your head to face the other members of your group, you briefly catch Seoyeon looking at you with a deep gaze, and you wonder what’s up with that. As much as you’re curious, however, you don’t want to make this all about you and her, since you have other people to pay attention to—hey, someone else is raising their hand.

“Yes?”, you point at Jiwon, who has her hand in the air. “Are you on scholarship, oppa?”, she asks. You reply with a nod, so she continues her question, “what kind?”. You explain to her and the rest of your crew that because you had placed first on the entrance test, you were given a scholarship that covers all your tuition if you can maintain over 3.00 GPA over the course of 4 years maximum. “I’m also eligible for an athletic scholarship, but you must keep being an athlete to get it, if that makes sense—if one day I decide to stop playing basketball for the university, that’s gone. So, for me, it’s safer to stick with the first one”, you add.

Jiwon doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet, “are there other scholarships, oppa? You know, something that a regular student like me can get?”. “Well, yes”, you say, “if you get the best grade in your class and department, your tuition for the next semester becomes 0—obviously it’s hard and there are a lot of competitors, but it’s still possible”. Your answer seems to be a satisfactory one; there are a handful of people who seem to get excited about it.

-

Lunch time is here, and the logistics guys from yesterday make another appearance today. You and co. take the bags from them and quickly distribute the lunchboxes to your respective groups. Seeing that you’re not getting a lunchbox, Seoyeon points at hers while looking at you, indirectly asking you about it. “I’m okay—just eat”, you mouth to her and end it with a smile, and she slowly opens her lunch and starts eating.

“Oppa, where’s your food?”, Sohee asks, catching on to your situation. You tell her what the logistics guys told you this morning, and you can see that Sohee is contemplating giving you her lunch. You notice that Seoyeon is glaring at Sohee from the side, so you quickly decline Sohee’s offer so that Seoyeon can have some peace of mind. “Just eat, Sohee-yah; I’ll be fine”, you say to her.

You ask Jungmin to keep an eye on your freshmen while you leave to get some food from the cafeteria, which is on the ground floor of the adjacent building.

“Oppa!”, Seoyeon follows you outside, “where are you going?”.

“The cafeteria.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m hungry, and as you can see, I don’t have a lunchbox.”

“Okay, have fun!”

She turns around and walks towards the classroom again, so you continue your way to the cafeteria to get some food for yourself.

You see that Mrs. Jeon’s stall is the only one that’s open, so you quickly head there. “Mrs. Jeon, hello”, you greet her, “can I get one hotdog with mashed potatoes and cheese sauce?”. She asks why you’re getting food at the cafeteria, so you tell the story from this morning one more time, causing her to laugh. “Well, you must be glad that I’m open”, she says. “You have no idea, Mrs. Jeon”, you chuckle, “I’d like to have a bottle of cold water as well, please”.

Mrs. Jeon hands you a hotdog and a bottle of water after around a minute, and along with them, a receipt, which will come in handy later. Before you leave, you eye the fridge in her stall and see some chocolate milk. “One chocolate milk too, please—no need for receipt this time”, you pull out some more cash from your wallet and give it to her. “Thanks, Mrs. Jeon!”, you grab your stuff and rush back to the classroom.

You stop a few meters away from the door of the classroom and pull out your phone to text Seoyeon: “come outside, please”. You see her come out of the classroom, and she immediately finds you. “Yes?”, she asks. You pull out the chocolate milk from your jacket pocket and show it to her. “I have something for you”, you say, “I bought you a small one so that you can finish it quickly”. She covers her red face with one hand as she takes the milk from your hand with the other. “Th-thank you, oppa”. “The-the pleasure is mine, S-Seoyeon-ah—fi-finish it quickly a-and then go back inside, okay?”. You stutter—you’ve never felt something like this before—is this love?

Well, isn’t that the million-dollar question. You don’t have the time or capacity to think about it right now, as you still have plenty of matters to attend to. Maybe the silence of the night can help you focus, though.

-

You’ve sent your freshmen on their way home almost half an hour ago, so there are only group leaders and committee members on campus right now.

“Let’s start the evaluations, ladies and gents”, Doctor Park is taking the point today, “is there anything you want to tell me first?”. A guy from security raises his hand and tells the crowd that he found someone smoking in one of the toilets on the Faculty of Law building. He then proceeds to provide the doctor with the wrongdoer’s information—he also shows her some pictures he has taken from the scene. “Unfortunate”, the doctor sighs, “next, please”.

No one else raises their hand, so Doctor Park takes her turn to speak. She explains that the Student Organization Expo will be held tomorrow, and the freshmen will be given freedom to run around the expo area and visit as many booths as they want until lunch time. After lunch, they’ll be able to choose what organization they want to join and send an application using a form that the group leaders will provide them with. “We won’t have a morning briefing tomorrow, so your check-in time for tomorrow is moved to 5 am with a 10-minute lateness toleration. Any questions?”, she scans the room and finds no raised hand, “you may go, then. See you tomorrow, everyone”

You don’t have practice today, so the only option you have right now is to go home and rest. You walk towards the campus bus stop to wait for the bus that will take you to the off-campus parking lot. You see a girl in blue sitting on the bench at the bus stop, and you wonder who it is. You slam your heels harder while you walk to make your footsteps louder, announcing your presence so that the girl doesn’t get startled.

The girl turns her head to face you, and you’re shocked to see who it is. “Yoon Seoyeon?”, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “what are you doing here?”. “Hi, oppa”, she shows you a cute smile, “I’ve been waiting for you, actually”. You almost can’t believe your ears, “you were waiting for me, sweetie?”. Seoyeon’s big eyes get even bigger when she hears the endearment, and inside, she wonders if it was a slip. “I-I wanted to talk some more with you, s-so I waited for you, oppa”, she looks away to hide her blush, “c-can we talk, oppa?”. “We can, Seoyeon-ah”. You point at the burger shop across the street and ask her to join you for dinner.

You muster up the courage to hold her hand as you get ready to cross the street with her. You wait until this gray car passes before crossing the street half-running with Seoyeon. “Oh, what am I doing”, you stop for a second and take off your jacket, “sorry, you must be cold”. You wrap your jacket around her body to shield her from the cold night air—the way she’s looking away from you makes you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, but at least she hasn’t slapped you for it.

You walk into the restaurant with her, and you see your favorite guy, Jeno, attending the cashier. He waves at you when he sees you walking in, being friendly as ever. “Hey, can I get one Double OG with no tomato and some nacho fries?”. You feel Seoyeon snaking her arm around yours, and you’re reminded that you’re not alone. “What do you want to eat, Seoyeon-ah?”, you ask. “I-I don’t know, but I’d like to have a burger and some fries too, oppa—if it’s okay with you, that is”, she shyly replies. “Of course it’s okay”, you scan the menu board and choose something for her, “uh, can I also have a Black Montana and some fries with marinara sauce?”. Jeno recaps your orders, and after confirming it, he hands you two large cups for the drinks.

After filling the cups with your preferred drinks—cold water for you, and diet coke for Seoyeon—you walk with her to find a table. “You want to sit there?”, you point at an empty table next to the big window. She agrees to your suggestion, so you walk towards that table together. You pull a seat for her before sitting down yourself, earning a soft “thank you” from her. You sit across from her and set your backpack on the empty chair next to you. “So, what did you want to talk about?”, you try to start the conversation. Instead of answering you, Seoyeon stays silent and looks down at the table. You don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, so you opt to keep it for later—maybe food will help her open up.

Food comes out of the kitchen and arrives at your table after around 10 minutes, which you spent by sitting in silence. You give Seoyeon her food and without cue, she immediately takes a piece of fry, dips it in marinara, and puts it in her mouth. She then chases it with a bite of her burger. You sit still and look at the way her plump cheeks move as she chews her food—someone can get full just by looking at Seoyeon eat. “Wh-what are you looking at, oppa?”, she covers her mouth with one hand, “p-please don’t look at me like that”. With a smile, you turn your attention to your food and start eating with her. You unwrap your burger, make sure there is no tomato in it, and take a bite. “Mm!”, you exclaim, “that’s really good”. You see that Seoyeon has started eating again. “You like it?”, you ask. Since her mouth is full, she replies to you with excited nods and a small smile.

-

Seoyeon has now finished her burger, and her fries are almost done. “Seoyeon-ah, I will ask again: what was it you wanted to talk about?”, you ask. She knows that she has nowhere else to run now. “I-I like you, oppa”, she drops a bomb while looking straight into your eyes, “there—that’s what I wanted to talk about”. Your jaw drops in shock, making you unable to say anything back momentarily. “I’m sorry, but can you say that again?”, you hope that she won’t say something else. “I said I like you, oppa”, she repeats, and you’re glad that she said the same thing. “D-do you feel the same, b-by any chance?”, she maintains eye contact with you despite the red cheeks. Yes, yes, you do, but for some reason, you find it very difficult to say it—until you see tears pooling in her eyes. “Seo-Seoyeon-ah—y-yes, I do like you”, you confess, “I like you a lot”. Satisfied with your answer, Seoyeon gets up from her seat, sits on the chair next to you (after putting your backpack on the floor), and hugs you from the side.

It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off your chest, and you feel like you’re able to breathe far more freely now. You wrap your arms around her body as best you can and close your eyes to bask in the moment. Soon, however, you’re startled by her subtle sobs. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”, you start panicking a little, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”. “I was so scared that you would push me away—you’d never push me away, would you?”, she asks, her voice trembling from the emotions. Judging by how Seoyeon is sobbing in your arms, thus showing her vulnerability in front of you, assures you that she’s being very honest and sincere. You peck her head a few times, hoping that she knows how sincere you are, “please don’t cry, sweetie; I’m here for you”. “You are”, she replies, “you are here for me”.

You run your hand gently on her back as you try to calm her down. It seems to be helpful; Seoyeon stops sobbing after a few minutes—she’s about to drop another bomb, though. “Oppa”, she pokes your thigh to get your attention, “can we go to your place?”. You silently praise your parents for planting in you the habit of cleanliness, which means that your apartment is almost always presentable should you have guests. “We can, sweetie—let’s go now, okay?”. You exchange some pleasantries with Jeno while you’re standing at the cashier. He even asks Seoyeon if she liked it, to which she responds with excitement. “Alright, thank you, man—see you next time”, you wave at him as you walk out of the restaurant with Seoyeon, your new… erm… girlfriend? Are we on girlfriend-boyfriend stage now? That’s a question for later.

-

After a quick drive, you find yourself and Seoyeon standing in the parking lot. “Sweetie, can I carry you? I’ve always wanted to try carrying a girl”, you ask, your cheeks getting hot. “S-sure, oppa”. She opens her arms, thinking that you’ll carry her from the front while in actuality, you want to carry her bridal-style. “Oh my God, oppa!”, she exclaims while hiding her red cheeks behind her palms. You carry the 50-something kilogram bundle of joy and walk towards your apartment. On the way, you feel her loosening up and enjoying the ride, and you swear that you can hear purrs coming from her. You hope that no neighbor sees you like this, because you imagine that it’d be quite awkward—not that you’re concerned about what they think, but still.

You punch in the passcode to your apartment without putting Seoyeon down, and here you are, in your haven. “We’re here, sweetie”, you say to her as you walk towards the sofa with her still in your arms. You carefully put her down onto the sofa and extend it so that she can lie comfortably on it. “Would you like some water, sweetie?”, you ask, and she replies with a nod. You walk towards the water dispenser and fill a cup with water and go back to her. You help her straighten her posture before handing her the cup. You’re confused when you see that instead of drinking out of the cup, she holds it with both hands and just silently looks at it.

“You okay?”

“I like you, oppa”

“Yes, sweetie; I like you too”

“What made you like me, oppa?”

You take a deep breath as you try to form an answer.

“I just feel so drawn to you; you’re just so charming, elegant, friendly, and—“, you realize that these words sound ridiculous coming from you, and your brain halts you by making your cheeks turn red. “Anything else, oppa?”, she challenges you, letting out a giggle after.

You hover over her body—making her bite her lip nervously—and come in for a kiss, eager to show her that you love her. You pull away from the kiss after a few seconds and look at her in the eyes. “I love you, Yoon Seoyeon—I love you with my entire being”, you say, feeling emotional, “will you be mine, baby?”. Seoyeon puts a palm on your cheek and rubs it gently. “Yes, oppa; I’m yours and you’re mine”, she returns your words with a loving smile on her face.

You lie down next to her and pull her into your arms, transferring the warmth of your bodies back and forth between the two of you. “Baby”, you get her attention, “is there anything you want to do?”. She moves to sit on your lap and leans forward, her face hovering closely over yours, “I want to have our first time”. That’s one more big bomb she dropped on your head, and you seem to be unable to speak. “You said you’ve never dated anyone before, so you must be a virgin. I’ll give you my first time and take yours in return”, she adds, “you weren’t lying about it, were you?”. You shake your head in response, still speechless. “Great”, she says, “let’s do it, oppa—please”. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret it after”, you try to gauge how serious she is. She leans forward even further until her nose touches hers. “I want it, oppa”, her voice sounds very sexy right now, “make me yours, and I’ll make you mine—we will stay together forever, oppa”.

You knew from the first day that she’s a very confident person, but you never expected that she’d be this confident about having her first time with you, someone who she met just yesterday. “It’d be a huge honor for me, baby, but I’m asking one more time: are you sure?”, you ask, despite your paper-thin patience and rock-hard penis. “I am very sure”, she doesn’t waver, “c’mon, oppa; let’s do it”. Even if you were single and have never dated anyone before, you know that you shouldn’t do something to a girl without her consent, and this is as clear of a consent as it gets, so there’s no reason for you to hesitate now. “Let’s move to the bedroom first, baby”.

You gently lower her onto the bed, smiling the whole time so that Seoyeon feels comfortable with you. After she’s lying comfortably in bed, however, her eyes start wandering away from yours, probably because she’s nervous. “Baby”, you hold her chin gently and turn her face towards you, “I love you—I love you lots”. Your words seem to be just what she wants to hear right now. “I love you too, oppa”, she reaches for your hands and pulls you towards her, “thank you for everything so far”. You’re not sure if you’ve done anything to warrant such an expression of gratitude, but you’ll take it and send it back to her. “I know that we just met, but I have a feeling—certain, even—that I’ll have plenty of reasons to be thankful for you, baby”, you make sure that you sound sincere because you are indeed sincere. “I think I’ve chosen well”, she says, “you’re as sweet as I hoped”.

Warmth. Warmth is the theme tonight. Warmth is what you’re feeling right now. Warmth is what this relationship will have plenty of. Speaking of warmth, being in a girl’s arms is very warm—you never knew that before. You rub your cheek against hers like a cat, the friction creating more warmth for the two of you. “Oppa”, she chuckles, finding it funny, “what are you doing? Are you a cat?”. “No, but I think I understand why cats do this”, you let out a chuckle as well, “I love you, baby”. You don’t know how many times you’ve said it, but it’s not something that hurts or tires Seoyeon, so you’d like to think that it’s fine to spam her with it.

“Show me, then”, she challenges you, “show me your love, oppa”. “Of course, baby; as you wish”, you accept her challenge. You jump off the bed and start undressing, showing Seoyeon the curves of your muscles. “My God”, she exclaims, “are you sure you’re playing the right sports, oppa?”. “I mean, basketball can get pretty physical, and for that, you need muscles”, you say, proud of your physique. She follows you off the bed and stands closely in front of you. “Fuck, I wonder what Yeonsu would think if she saw us like this”, she utters while her hands roam on your body. “Yeonsu? Who is that?”, you’re unfamiliar with the name. “My friend from high school”, she says, her eyes still locked on your torso, “she told me about you”. You’re perplexed, “how did she know about me?”. “No idea; she just said that you’re pretty famous”, she says. “I’m famous? Really?”, you think.

Seoyeon asks for your attention by tapping you in the chest. She then offers you the chance to undress her, which you’re delighted to do so. She puts her arms on either side of her body and closes her eyes as you start unbuttoning her blouse. You notice that her breathing gets faster, a clear sign that she’s very nervous. You stop what you’re doing and place your hands on her waist, hoping that doing so will make her feel more comfortable and familiar to your touch. You say nothing as you wait for her to calm down, and it doesn’t take long. “Continue, oppa”, she says, “I-I’m sorry”. You assure her that there’s nothing to be sorry for; it’s totally normal to be nervous when doing something for the first time.

After all her buttons are undone, you free her arms from the sleeves and let her blouse fall onto the floor. As a reflex, Seoyeon covers her bra-covered tits with her hands, blushing as she does. Again, you wait in silence until she tells you what she wants you to do next. “I’m sorry—oh, God, I’m so sorry”, she shakes her head to regain focus, “y-you can take off my pants, oppa”. “Please, there’s nothing to be sorry for, baby—I understand that you’re nervous”, you put on a calm smile to support your statement. Seoyeon slowly removes her hands from her chest and unbuttons her pants for you, she then asks you to finish the job.

Well, there she is: standing shyly in front of you with little covering her body. She’s using one hand to cover her breasts while the other is covering her crotch. She can feel herself drowning in a sea of thoughts, nervous about all kinds of things. “What will happen after tonight? What if he leaves me after taking my first time? What if—“, her restless mind stops when she hears your calm voice. “Baby, listen, please”, you throw her a lifebuoy, “I understand that you’re nervous about all of this—I do, seriously—we don’t have to do this now if you don’t feel like it”.

“Can I ask something first, oppa?”

“Of course, baby”

“W-what do you think will happen tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow? Well, the Student Organization Expo will happen tomorrow”, you crack a little joke. Seoyeon’s stressed face loosens up after hearing your joke, seemingly more comfortable with the situation. “Aaaah, I’m serious, oppaaaa”, she whines.

You get on one knee in front of her and place a hand on her knee. “What will happen tomorrow, baby, is that I will start loving you, and you will start loving me”, you start, your tone calm but serious, “after that, we will spend a lot of time with each other. We will laugh sometimes and cry some other times, but that’s fine; we’ll face everything together”.

“Together, oppa?”

“Together, baby. You and me against the world—well, not exactly; the world doesn’t hate us, does it?”

She seems to be satisfied with your answer, proven by how she moves her hands off her body and places them on your nape. “Together, oppa”, she says, “we will stay together for a long, long time”. “Yes, we will, baby”. You stand up and pull her into a kiss, one that screams out “I love you”.

You were so deep into the kiss that you failed to notice that Seoyeon had tumbled backwards, thus pulling you back into the bed with her. She breaks the kiss and whispers to you that she’s ready. She guides your hands towards the waistband of her panties, “make me yours, oppa”. You nod without saying a word and start pulling her panties down her legs and past her ankles. “Respectfully, baby, I think you’re sexy”, you don’t bother stifling your tongue anymore. “Th-thank you, oppa—I-I think you look good too”, she returns the praise to you, and truthfully, it makes you feel really good about yourself.

While you take off your boxers, Seoyeon takes off her bra, and now, you’re both completely naked, showing everything to each other. It is when you hover over her that she hesitates again. “I’m scared, oppa”, her voice shakes, “y-you will hurt me, won’t you?”. “I’ll be gentle, baby—I promise”, you try to comfort her.

You spread her legs wide enough for you to be in the middle of, ready to take her innocence and give her yours in return. She wraps her legs around your torso and locks her ankles together in response. You use one hand to guide your cock towards her entrance, and despite the lack of experience, you manage to find it somewhat easily. “Baby, I’m going to start”, you announce, “if you want to change your mind, this is your chance”. “No, I want it—give it to me, oppa”.

You move your hips forwards and Seoyeon instantly gasps at the first contact. “Gently, gently”, she reminds you. “Of course, baby”. You wrap your arms around her body and hold her close to you as your cock tries to enter her pussy. You hear Seoyeon’s breathing get faster again, so you whisper to her in a calm voice that everything will be okay. You keep going forwards until you feel the tip of your cock breaching through her barrier; you’ve taken her innocence and made her yours.

You want to savor the foreign sensation, but Seoyeon starts sobbing and grunting in pain. “It hurts, oppa”, she whimpers, “please, be gentle with me—please, please—AHHH!”. You think that if you move again, you will hurt her even more, so you stop for now. “I’m not moving, baby—let’s calm down for now, okay?”, you say to her. She keeps whimpering and grunting in your ears, tugging at the strings of your heart. “I’m so sorry, baby”, you start feeling emotional yourself, “do you want to stop?”. “J-just give me a moment, oppa”, says the girl in discomfort.

You’ve been in this position for a few minutes, waiting patiently for Seoyeon to get used to the foreign object in her body. “Oppa”, she says weakly, “I-I think you can go again”. “Sure, baby”, you say. You slowly retreat from her pussy before going forwards again, earning a combination of moans and grunts from her. You ask if she’s still in pain, and she tells you that it’s not too bad. “You’re doing so well, baby”, you praise her, “I love you so, so much”. “I love—oh, God, so deep”, the way your cock hits the deepest spots surprises her, “please, gently, oppa”. You’ve been as gentle as you can be so far, but no matter how slow it feels, you hold on to your patience.

As you slowly move back and forth in her pussy, you notice that the grunts are getting replaced with moans, which means that it’s now enjoyable for her. “Feeling better, baby?”, you ask to make sure. “Yes-yes—oh, God, yes”, she replies, “how are you so big, oppa?”. “I don’t know, baby; just genes, probably”, you chuckle to lighten the mood, “do you think I can go faster?”. “Just-just nothing too rough, please”, she begs. You assure her that you will be mindful with your pace and start thrusting into her faster than earlier.

The moans that she’s sending right into your ears are very arousing, and you subconsciously start fucking her faster, as you’re eager to hear more of it. “So good, oppa—fuck, you’re so good”, she praises you. You’re glad to hear that she’s no longer in pain and has gotten used to you. “You’re also so good, baby; you’re so fucking tight for me”, you send the praises back to her.

You place her wrists on the bed and press down on them with your hands, assuming a very dominant position. “You’re so good, baby”, you manage to send one more praise her way despite the heavy breaths, “I love you so much”. “Ah, ah, ah—I l-love you too, oppa”, she replies, “kiss me, please—ngh, fuck”. You plant your lips on hers and pick up the pace of your thrusts, eager to get your first ever orgasm in your life.

You chant profanities as you try to maintain the tempo, Seoyeon’s tightness proving to be challenging for you. “Oppa, wait”, she halts you, “I-I want to pee—w-why do I want to pee, oppa?”. Truthfully, you have no idea; you’re as inexperienced as she is. “You’ll be fine, baby”, you try to dismiss her, and she takes your word for it. “I’m peeing, I’m peeing!”, she plants her hands on your chest and tries to push you away from her but she’s simply too weak. You pull out from her pussy and see that her juice is gushing out of her bloodstained pussy—not only that, her legs and thighs are shaking. Seoyeon screams and squirms around in bed; “this must be her orgasm”, you think as you observe her.

“Oppa! Oppa!”, she reaches her arms out, desperate to touch your body, “please, please, hold me”. You hold her tightly in your arms and you can hear the soft, angelic moans that escape her lips, arousing you even further. You whisper “I love you” in her ears repeatedly as you wait for her to come back to her senses. “I love you too, oppa”, she returns your words to you, “what was that, though?”.

“I think that was your orgasm, baby”

“Orgasm, oppa? Really?”

“I think so, yeah”

“And it was because of you?”

“Yes, I’d like to think so”

“That was amazing, oppa”

“I’m glad that it was, baby”

Her breathing returns to its normal pace after a few minutes of hugging, and she tells you that she’s ready to go again. “Give me your orgasm, oppa”, she demands, “I know how it works for men, so I want you to send it deep inside me”. “Sure, but we’ll take the morning after pill after that, alright?”, you remind her. “Sure”, she says, “I don’t want to get pregnant yet”.

Without cleaning the bloodstain on your shaft, you plunge back into her pussy. “Oh, yes, oppa”, she moans, “yes, yes, I’m yours”. Your lips crash into hers as you fuck her at a good tempo, looking for the first orgasm of your life. “Fuck, I don’t think I can last too long”. “That’s okay, oppa—ohh, yes, it’s okay”, Seoyeon struggles to speak, “gi-give me everything you have”. “Y-you got it—oh, fuck”. You plant your hands firmly into the bed and fuck her as fast you can, and before long, you feel your cock throbbing (or is it her that’s throbbing). “I think—“, your words are cut off when your cock blows a load deep inside Seoyeon, earning a long moan from her.

-

The vibrations from your smartwatch cause you to stir awake—it must be 4 am now. You lift your wrist and see that it is indeed 4 am, the time you’ve been waking up at for the past few days of Freshers’ Week. As you try to lift your body off the bed, you feel something weighing down on the left side of your body. “Oh, right, Seoyeon-ie”. That’s right; that’s Yoon Seoyeon, your new girlfriend who you had your first time with a few hours ago.

“Love, wake up, please”, you poke her cheeks repeatedly to get her to wake up. “What?”, she mumbles, half awake. “Babe, I’ll take you home so you can shower and get ready for today, okay?”. “Yeah, sure”, she says. You open the water bottle that Seoyeon drank from earlier and coat your thumb with some water. You then run your thumb gently on her eyes, “this is how I wake up sometimes, baby”. “Mm, sure”, she says.

After getting dressed, you carry her to your car and start driving away. First, you make a stop at a pharmacy and buy some morning after pills and condoms for future use. “Babe, take this, please”, you hand her a pill and a bottle of water to take it with. Seoyeon weakly reaches for the pill, puts it in her mouth, and chases it with some water. “Done”, she says. You pet her head gently, “good girl, baby—alright, let’s get you home, okay?”

-

Well, here you are again, in the football field for the third day of Freshers’ Week. Your eyelids feel very heavy, and you’re very tempted to just let them close. You were drifting to sleep when you heard a girl’s voice calling to you. “Good morning, oppa”, Seoyeon greets you excitedly, “how are you today?”. “I’m—“, a yawn cuts you off, “I’m feeling great, lo—erm, Seoyeon-ah. How about you?”. “I’m a bit tired, but I had a great time yesterday”, she smirks. “Did you?”, you chuckle, “well, that’s great to hear, Seoyeon-ah”. She gets on her tippy toes, and you lean forwards a bit to hear her whispers. “I love you, oppa”, she whispers, “thank you for last night”. “I love you too, baby”, you whisper back, “I’ll see you at home after this, okay?”. You glance to your left and right to see if Suhyeon and Jungmin heard you, but they were too busy looking at their phones. When you look at Seoyeon again, she winks and smiles at you, so you wink and smile at her in return. “I love you, baby”, you mouth to her, causing her to look away to hide her blush.

[odditycircus-2002]

Quan-Chi's Daughter Intros

A/N: Despite NO ONE asking for this. I decided to make these intros based on the reader from this request. Because of her backstory, my mind started concocting scenarios of her meeting certain characters besides her family. So, I hope y'all like this one.

Sub-Zero

Y/N genuinely: Even with your cryomancy, you have a warm soul.

Sub-Zero: Do not think it means I'll make this spar easier.

Y/N chuckles: I would be offended if you did.

/

Sub-Zero: Is it possible for you to restore Cyrax?

Y/N: Necromancy isn't my strongest suit, but I could try it for you, my friend.

Sub-Zero: That is all either Cyrax or I could ask for.

/

Y/N: How is D/N's training with your Lin Kuei faring?

Sub-Zero: She shows much promise but is reluctant to use her more demonic abilities.

Y/N: That's for the best ... for you AND D/N's sake.

/

Sub-Zero: You were there when Quan-chi remade Hanzo and Bi-Han into specters?

Y/N: I was, and while I could help Hanzo, I wish I could've done more for your brother.

Sub-Zero firmly: He is beyond saving, Y/N.

Night Wolf

Y/N: I still feel guilt for all my years working under Quan-chi.

Night Wolf: You’re not the only that harbors guilt for their past actions.

Y/N: Then we’re fortunate to have been enlightened before it was too late.

/

Night Wolf: Why are you so uneasy in my presence?

Y/N: Your Revenant was one of many that left his mark on me.

Night Wolf: I will do what I can to show, he is not who I really am.

/

Y/N: You allowed Hanzo to best you at the Tournament?

Night wolf: As you and I can both see, his path led to you and the revival of his clan.

Y/N sincerely: And for that, you have my gratitude.

/

Night wolf: Do not let your love for Hanzo become blinding.

Y/N: He opened my eyes to a world beyond the Netherrealm.

Night Wolf: I merely caution you to not mistake loyalty for blind obedience.

/

Johnny Cage

Y/N: You defeated Shinnok in Kombat?

Johnny Cage: Are you also going to say that's batshit insane?

Y/N: No, I wanted to thank you for doing so.

/

Johnny Cage: Man, you are hot as hell!

Y/N: That's because liquid fire runs through my veins.

Johnny Cage: Do you not know what flirting is?

/

Y/N: I'm sorry, but I'm happily married to Hanzo.

Johnny Cage: He's one lucky S.O.B to have tied the knot with such a hottie.

Y/N: I'm fortunate to have him in my life.

/

Johnny Cage: If you're a demon, where's your horns, fangs, and tail?

Y/N: I'm told my true face tends to intimidate humans.

Johnny Cage: It can't be as bad as Sonya waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

/

Raiden:

Y/N: As Dark Raiden, you frightened me.

Raiden: I can imagine many others share your sentiment.

Y/N: But not everyone could look at him, and could almost picture Shinnok in his place.

/

Raiden: Your daughter inherited your demonic abilities.

Y/N: I'm concerned about her losing control and doing something she'll regret.

Raiden: I trust you, and Scorpion trained her as well as you could.

/

Y/N: I may know how to keep Shinnok's amulet out of anyone's hands.

Raiden: What would be better than My Sky Temple?

Y/N: If you allow it, I would toss it into the Sea of Blood, far from anyone's reach.

/

Raiden: I wish to trust you, but it wasn't long ago that I saw you stand by your father.

Y/N: I left his side decades ago, and he then tried to have me killed.

Raiden: It's no surprise that Quan-chi doesn't value even his own family.

Spawn

Y/N: I left the Netherrealm for a good reason.

Spawn sympathetically: I'm afraid the Netherrealm is not through with you.

Y/N with a demonic reverb: It shall NEVER have me again!

/

Spawn: You remind me of someone I loved.

Y/N softly: Did you lose her?

Spawn: She's lost to me for all eternity.

/

Y/N: You were sent back to the mortal realm because you wanted to see your wife again?

Spawn: Just as you cut ties with your father and Hell to be with your husband.

Y/N: Now, we're both free to choose our destinies.

/

Spawn: You've escaped the Netherrealm while all its strongest fighters were after you?

Y/N: As my scars can attest, I almost didn't.

Spawn: You're lucky, then, that you didn't have to make a deal with the Devil to escape.

/

Noob Saibot

Y/N softly: I offer you mercy, Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot angrily: You think I need your pity?!?

Y/N: For you to be at peace, I have to free you of your shell.

/

Noob Saibot: You and your daughter fear the darkness within you.

Y/N: Shinnok and Raiden have shown me more than that absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Noob Saibot: You are both fools for not embracing your true potential.

/

Y/N: Sareena still speaks highly of you, Bi-han.

Noob Saibot: I am NOT the one she speaks of anymore.

Y/N: I know, so she'll be relieved to have you gone.

/

Noob Saibot: You married the man who killed me?

Y/N: I did, but I know what Hanzo did to you was unjust and unwarranted.

Noob Saibot: Then I'll take your life as retribution for him taking mine.

/

Cetrion

Y/N: Were my prayers ever heard?

Cetrion: Even from the Netherrealm, I could hear a small girl's pleas for a better life, but I could not intervene.

Y/N lowly: Then you know why I am here...

/

Cetrion testily: You assisted your husband in killing your father.

Y/N angrily: Quan-chi has been dead to me long before Hanzo took his head.

Cetrion: It is not surprising that a demon has no remorse for their sin.

/

Y/N: What makes you worthy of my worship?

Cetrion: I know you seek salvation for your compliance with Quan-chi's schemes.

Y/N: I will not seek that from someone who is compliant with Kronika's plans.

/

Cetrion: Your love and appreciation for life is virtuous.

Y/N: Then why are you so determined to end all of it?

Cetrion: Not end it, Kronika will start anew to restore balance.

BONUS: Shinnok

Y/N: Why in the 10 hells would my daughter ever serve you?

Shinnok: Because of your husband, it is her birthright to take Quan-chi's place.

Y/N with demonic reverb: D/N will not be yours to control!

/

Shinnok: Quan-chi should have beaten you as a child.

Y/N: What makes you think he didn't already try his best to break me every other way?

Shinnok: Obviously, it wasn't enough.

/

Y/N: All you have ever taught me about Death is false.

Shinnok: Then I have but one more lesson to teach you.

Y/N growling: I am DONE with your lessons.

/

Shinnok: Quan-chi's little songbird.

Y/N: I am neither his nor your pet bird any longer!

Shinnok: You are nothing more than lamb to the slaughter.

[aspenmissing]

Hi! I saw your post about requesting and I couldn’t help myself. Maybe a Moonknight with all three guys where the reader is another gods avatar and they follow them through the events of the Moonknight series. And then they all end up in the underworld and that’s where they find out that reader used to be a black widow? I love Moonknight and I love your work! 😍

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴀᴛ

ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ (ᴀʟʟ 3) x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 4445 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ? (ʀᴇᴅ ʀᴏᴏᴍ), ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ, ᴅɪᴅ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ɪ ᴀᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ɪᴛ! ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɢᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛɴᴏᴛ. (ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ʟᴀʏʟᴀ, ᴇᴀꜱɪᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ). ɪ ᴍᴀʏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇ-ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ | ᴍᴀʀᴄ | ᴊᴀᴋᴇ

London’s skies were often grey, but tonight, they carried a pressure that settled in your lungs like smoke. Heavy clouds blanketed the city, dulling the orange glow of streetlamps into halos. Fog kissed the pavement, slick and glistening. It wasn’t the weather—something else was coming. Something old. Something divine.

You stood across the street from the National Gallery, hood drawn low, coat pulled tight against the chill. But it wasn’t cold that had you clenching your fists. It was anticipation.

He appeared like clockwork. Shuffling out of the staff entrance, fumbling with keys, muttering to himself. A man more shadow than substance, just another face in the crowd. But you saw him.

Steven Grant.

The idiot.

The kind-hearted, hopelessly overwhelmed, terribly lonely idiot who didn’t realize a god shared his skin.

You tilted your head, watching as he dropped his keys again. Third time this week.

Your goddess stirred within you, a flicker of bemusement brushing the edges of your mind like wind through silk.

“You pity him.”

“No,” you said softly. “I see myself in him.”

And you did.

You remembered what it was like to walk in your own skin like it belonged to someone else. To be haunted by voices no one else could hear. To think maybe you were going mad—until the truth set in like a lightning strike.

For you, it had started in death.

Or near-death, anyway.

You were bleeding out on a mission gone wrong, your body broken in the sands outside Luxor. You’d thought it was the end—until a presence surged through your dying thoughts like warm honey and starlight. “You don’t have to die like this,” the voice said. Not in words, exactly. Not in any human tongue. It was knowing, offering, reminding. And in the haze of blood and grit, you saw her. Nephthys. Goddess of twilight. Mourner of the dead. Keeper of sacred memory. Forgotten sister to Isis. The silent watcher. Where Osiris judged and Khonshu punished, Nephthys remembered. Every sin. Every kindness. Every secret buried under stone. She chose you not because you were the strongest—but because you remembered pain. You understood it.

That was the beginning.

The Red Room had trained you to survive. Nephthys gave you purpose.

As her avatar, you walked between the cracks of the world. You saw the threads others missed. Memory, she told you, was power. And your power lay in seeing what others could not.

So when whispers of Arthur Harrow began again—long dormant rumours of Ammit, of scales and justice—you followed.

Through the underworld of Europe, through old tombs, through dying breath confessions and half-burnt scrolls, you tracked him like the ghost you once were. You found what the gods would not say aloud: Harrow had Khonshu’s former avatar. He’d been broken, remade, repurposed.

Now Khonshu had another.

Steven. Marc. And someone else still, just beneath the surface.

Three in one.

That intrigued you.

So you watched. First from rooftops. Then in the museum. Then closer. You didn’t intervene—not yet. But you saw the way Steven talked to his reflection, how the mirrors flinched before he did. The shadows around him had weight.

And still, he was kind.

Gentle.

The sort of person you were trained to manipulate. And the sort of person you now wanted to protect.

When he walked home that night, alone and humming under his breath, you followed.

You met him properly two days later.

A near-mugging in an alley. Steven was walking home after closing the gift shop, clutching a plastic bag with a boxed falafel wrap and a lemon soda. He was humming something under his breath—some half-forgotten Bowie tune—and didn’t notice the man tailing him.

Not until the man grabbed his collar and slammed him against the brick.

Steven let out a strangled, “Oh—God! Wait, I don’t have any cash—just take the bag, alright?”

Too polite to scream. Too scared to fight. You dropped from the fire escape before the mugger could finish his threat.

Ten seconds. Maybe less. A sharp twist of his wrist, a hard kick to the inside of his knee, and he crumpled. One strike to the throat and he was choking on his own panic. You didn’t bother looking back as he scrambled away into the night, limping and cursing.

Steven blinked at you, wide-eyed, as you stepped forward. Blood stained your knuckles. Your coat flared behind you like wings in the alley light.

“That was a close one,” you said, offering your hand.

He looked down at it as if it were a hallucination.

“I—um—thanks? Did you just—?”

You grinned. “Heard the commotion. Figured you could use a hand.”

He took your hand, dazed, still trying to process what had just happened.

“I think I’ve seen you before,” he said slowly. “You’re—were you at the museum? On Tuesday?”

“Maybe.” He tilted his head, squinting at you as though trying to place a name on a dream. “You alright?” you asked, still holding his hand.

“I think so,” he replied. “Bit rattled. But you—you’re not just some random Londoner with wicked reflexes, are you?”

You smirked. “Depends who’s asking.” Before he could reply, you stepped back into the shadows. “See you around, Steven.”

And you were gone.

=

After that, he saw you often. Always just out of reach—never close enough to catch fully, but always there.

In line behind him at the café, ordering the same muffin he liked. Sitting silently across the bus, eyes flickering in the reflection of the window. Walking a few steps behind him along the Thames, never quite catching up. Browsing through the ancient history section at the British Library, lingering over the same dusty volumes he admired.

You moved like a shadow in his periphery—quiet, effortless—like you belonged in the spaces between his thoughts.

One afternoon, unable to resist any longer, Steven caught up to you in the Egyptology exhibit, curiosity overtaking his usual hesitation.

“Hey,” he said, voice unsure but steady. “Can I ask... why do you always seem to be around? It’s like you’re everywhere I go lately.”

You glanced at him, a slow, knowing smile curling your lips.

“Maybe I just like the same things you do,” you said lightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

He frowned, his brow knitting. “Yeah, but… last time you said my name. How do you know it?”

You paused just a moment before answering, as if weighing how much to reveal. “I pay attention,” you said softly. “Names are important.”

He shook his head, baffled. “No, it’s more than that. It’s like... I don’t know. You just keep showing up. It’s weird. Are you following me?” You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Following? Maybe. Or maybe I’m just... interested.”

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s... kind of unsettling.” You leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a softer, more conspiratorial tone.

“Do you believe in fate, Steven?”

He flinched, surprised by the sudden change. “I—uh, I guess I’d like to.” You smiled, enigmatic.

“Good,” you said. Then you turned and walked away, leaving him with the echo of your words—and more questions than answers.

=

It all changed the night he woke up with sand in his shoes and blood on his hands.

The night the reflection in the mirror didn’t blink back.

That was the night Marc took over.

You found him on a rooftop, the cold wind whipping through the city’s spires and casting long shadows over the glittering streets below. His breath came in ragged gasps, steaming in the chill air, and the dark stains on his knuckles caught the faint light of the moon—fresh blood, smeared and stark against rough skin. These weren’t Steven’s hesitant, polite hands anymore. These were the hands of a man who had been pushed too far.

His eyes—black, sharp, almost feral—locked onto you instantly. There was no surprise, no hesitation. Just the quiet calculation of a predator.

He reached for something—perhaps a weapon, perhaps a threat—but you lifted your hand, calm and steady.

“Don’t bother,” you said softly, your voice carrying across the night. “If I meant you harm, you’d already be over the edge.”

He froze, measuring you carefully. You stepped closer, the mist swirling around your feet like whispered secrets.

“I’ve been watching,” you said.

Marc’s voice was low, roughened by the strain in his throat. “I noticed. Who are you?” he demanded, the soldier’s suspicion flaring bright.

You offered only your name—your true name, but nothing more.

“That doesn’t tell me a thing,” Marc said, tone edged with frustration. “You with Khonshu?”

You shook your head, the movement deliberate and slow. “No. My goddess walks a different path.” Marc raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing.

“Which one?” he pressed.

You met his eyes without hesitation. “Nephthys.” The name caught him off guard, if only for a flicker.

“Nephthys?” he repeated, voice low. “Nobody remembers her.”

“Most have forgotten,” you said, your tone softer now, almost mournful. “But she remembers them all. That’s her gift.”

At that moment, neither of you saw the faint, shimmering figure hovering just beyond the rooftop’s edge—Khonshu, the moon god, cloaked in silver light, watching with sharp, eternal eyes. His gaze flicked to the shadows where Nephthys lingered, her presence barely a ripple in the air—an ancient goddess draped in mourning, her dark wings folded protectively.

Khonshu and Nephthys regarded each other silently, invisible to their chosen champions but very much aware.

“She’s the keeper of what is lost. The mourner of the dead. She carries the memory of every soul the world tried to bury beneath silence and dust.”

Marc’s expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable—a momentary softness, the shadow of something vulnerable behind his guarded eyes.

“She watches over grief,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And those fractured by it.”

He said nothing, but you felt the weight of your words settle in the silence between you, like dust on ancient tombs.

“She chose me once,” you said quietly. “Just like Khonshu chose you.”

Marc’s jaw clenched, the bitter truth evident in the tension there. “Not much of a choice,” he muttered. You tilted your head, empathy threading your gaze.

“No. It never is.” He nodded slowly, the silence thick and heavy, filled with unspoken pain. “But she’s not like him,” you added after a pause, your voice firm but gentle. “Nephthys doesn’t want vengeance. She wants memory. She wants truth—even if it hurts.”

Marc turned away, eyes tracing the jagged silhouette of the city against the night sky.

“You’re not running from it,” you said softly, stepping closer again. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”

He let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “That, or I’m just broken enough to be useful.”

You closed the distance between you, the air electric with unspoken understanding. “Broken things still carry weight.” This time, when you turned to leave, Marc didn’t stop you.

But before you melted into the fog, he asked quietly, “Will I see you again?”

You didn’t answer.

You simply vanished into the night, leaving him alone with the city—and a new thread woven into the fabric of his fractured world.

Cairo was heat and history and blood.

Weeks had crawled by since the council meeting—the place where gods weighed justice and judgment with cold indifference, and where your goddess’s voice had been silenced. The crushing silence wasn’t just absence of sound but the absence of her presence itself, like a black hole expanding inside you. Osiris, in his divine coldness, had cast her out—just as Khonshu had been cast out before her. For interfering. For mercy. For being too human.

Your nights became restless rituals of searching, of chasing shadows between sunburnt rooftops and shadowy bazaars where merchants hawked relics drenched in curses and secrets. The neon lights of Cairo's newer districts flickered, competing with ancient lamplight, while the city hummed with the whispered names of those who wielded dark power.

Harrow’s name was a ghost carried on the wind. A name that meant danger — and ruin.

You had tracked every rumour, every whisper you could find—cutting through the veil of Cairo’s chaos like a knife through silk. Each lead pulled you deeper into the underbelly where the stones of ancient temples met the cold steel of the modern world.

The goddess that once burned in your chest was now a fragile ember, her voice faint—sometimes rising like a distant cry, only to be stolen away before you could grasp it. It was a silence so deep it felt like drowning.

Your knife felt heavier these days, but you gripped it like a lifeline. Not just a weapon, but a tether to the fragments of yourself left intact. The sweat on your brow was not just heat—it was the weight of failures, the burden of loss, the fragile hope that still flickered in the darkness.

You thought of Steven, of Marc—the fractured man whose soul was as fractured as your own. You wondered if he was still fighting or if the dark was swallowing him whole.

=

One night, beneath a crescent moon that hung like a silver shard in the inky sky, you moved like a whisper through the silent halls of the ancient tomb. The air was thick and stale, heavy with the musty scent of dust, crumbled stone, and forgotten memories. Each breath you took tasted faintly of decay and secrets buried beneath centuries of silence. The weight of ages pressed down on your shoulders, the very walls seeming to lean in, steeped with the lingering presence of forgotten gods and long-dead kings whose echoes still haunted this forsaken place.

Torchlight flickered uneasily along the cracked hieroglyphs etched into the walls, casting restless, trembling shadows that danced and twisted like spirits in torment. Broken statues, their faces eroded and fractured by time’s relentless hand, loomed like silent sentinels—once proud, now hollow and fallen, their dignity shattered alongside their stone forms. The whispers of old magic hummed faintly beneath the surface, barely audible, like a distant chant calling to something deep inside you.

You had come for one thing and one thing only—Ammit’s Ushabti. The legendary artifact, wrapped in myth and whispered fear, said to hold the terrifying power of divine judgment itself. To hold it was to hold fate in your hands: to dispense mercy or devastation with the flick of a thought, to bend destiny like a god or a monster. The promise of such power was a siren’s call you could not ignore.

But you knew you were not alone.

=

Your pulse thundered with each cautious step, every breath sharp and ragged. Your heart pounded a warning in your chest, primal and fierce.

Ahead, beneath a shattered archway veined with the faded sigils of ancient gods, the scene unfolded before you like a nightmare made flesh.

Marc lay crumpled on the cold, dust-choked floor. His chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths. His skin was ashen, ghostly pale beneath the flickering torchlight, veins dark and brittle beneath fragile flesh. A crimson stain blossomed like a dying rose across the side of his torso, soaked into the worn fabric of his shirt, the color vivid and terrible against the pallor of his skin.

His fingers clenched tightly around the Ushabti, unwilling to relinquish the prize even as death whispered on his breath.

And standing above him—towering like a shadow cast from the void itself—was Harrow.

His presence sucked the warmth from the air, a darkness so profound it felt as if the tomb itself shriveled away under his gaze. His staff pulsed with a sickly, unnatural divine light, an eerie glow that twisted the very air like heat above a desert flame. The aura of judgment radiated from him—unyielding, suffocating—like the gods had appointed him their grim executioner, their instrument of cruel justice.

Your breath caught in your throat. A silent scream clawed its way up your chest, tearing at your insides. Your goddess stirred within you, a dormant fire reaching for release—but when you searched, there was only cold emptiness where her power once flowed. A hollow silence threatened to swallow you whole.

Steel kissed your palm as your fingers closed around the hilt of your knife, the cold weight grounding you, anchoring you amid the storm of dread swelling inside.

“Marc! Steven!” you shouted, voice ragged and raw, cracking with desperation. “Hold on!”

Harrow’s eyes snapped toward you, sharp and merciless. His cruel smile twisted, venom dripping from his words. “So, the other fallen avatar reveals herself,” he spat. “Pathetic.”

A fire lit inside you, fierce and defiant. Stepping forward, your voice was ice and steel all at once. “And you,” you retorted, “are a coward hiding behind a god’s leash.”

The staff in his hand surged upward, erupting in a blinding explosion of divine fury. The light cracked the stone beneath where you had stood mere heartbeats ago.

Your instincts screamed as you barely dove aside, the searing brilliance scorching the air where your body had been.

Heart pounding like war drums, you sprang to your feet, blade flashing like a serpent’s strike in the gloom.

Your knife arced toward his wrist, a silent whisper of cold steel slicing through the air.

But Harrow was swift. He twisted with unnatural grace, the staff snapping upward with a crack like thunder, deflecting your blow. The force slammed into your forearm like a battering ram, pain lancing through your bones, shattering your balance and sending you crashing back onto the rubble-strewn floor.

Gritting your teeth against the fire that bloomed in your arm, you forced yourself upright, eyes locked fiercely on him.

Harrow struck again—a vicious, sweeping blow ignited with holy fire that crackled and hissed like the breath of death itself. You rolled, sand and grit scraping raw against your skin, grit catching in your mouth and hair. Coming up fast, you braced yourself, every nerve screaming with urgency.

The tomb seemed to hold its breath, the air thick and trembling, as your desperate battle with judgment incarnate unfolded—each strike heavier, more urgent, like the last fragile thread holding fate itself together.

Amid the clash, you stole a glance at Marc.

His breath was shallow, fingers twitching weakly around the Ushabti’s cold surface, clutching it as though his life depended on it—because it did.

“No!” you barked, a raw command, forcing Harrow’s venomous eyes away from the broken man and onto you.

His expression darkened, venom dripping from his voice. “Weakness is the enemy of gods.”

The words hit you like ice, but you did not falter.

Steeling your resolve, you lunged again—this time aiming not for his staff, but for his chest.

Your blade tore through the fabric of his robes, sharp metal biting deep enough to draw a faint thread of blood.

He retaliated with brutal speed—a savage kick that slammed you into ancient debris. Pain exploded across your ribs, sharp and unforgiving, but you fought to catch your breath, to push yourself up.

There was no choice. No time to waste.

You reached for Marc, trembling hands trying to lift him, to pull him away from death’s cruel grasp.

But Harrow’s eyes blazed with furious wrath as he advanced.

“You cannot save them all,” he hissed, voice a dark promise.

A cold smile twisted your lips through clenched teeth. “Maybe not,” you whispered, breath ragged. “But I’m not giving up on any of them.”

Before you could react, a searing, burning pain tore through your side—sharp, sudden, like a white-hot dagger driven deep into your flesh. The goddess screamed—her final, shattering cry ripped from your soul by claws of pure light and shadow.

Blood blossomed beneath your fingers, warm and terrifying, as your breath caught in your throat and the air was violently ripped from your lungs. Your body collapsed against the unforgiving stone floor, the cold surface slick beneath you as the world spun and fractured.

Every nerve blazed with agony, the sharp sting of the wound flooding your senses, drowning you in a tide of pain and darkness. Through the blurring haze, your eyes struggled to focus, and there—just ahead—was Marc. His face pale and strained, eyes flickering weakly with desperate hope as he clutched the Ushabti tightly to his chest.

His gaze met yours one last time, a silent plea, a fragile bond in the suffocating silence.

The ancient tomb faded around the edges of your vision, shadows closing in, swallowing you whole.

Yet even as your strength slipped away, as despair pressed down like a crushing weight, one stubborn thought burned bright and clear within you:

This is not the end.

The air was thick and heavy, metallic and sterile, pressing down on your lungs like a vise. The fluorescent lights above flickered weakly, their buzzing an unending drone that grated against your nerves. The linoleum floor beneath you was cracked and scuffed, streaked with dark stains—blood, old and dry, crusted into the surface like a wound that refused to heal. The faint, clinging scent of vodka and stale cigarette smoke lingered, trapped in the corners and weaving through the stale air like restless ghosts that refused to leave.

You opened your eyes—slowly, painfully—into the oppressive, suffocating confines of the Red Room.

No. Not the Red Room.

Your Red Room.

A twisted dreamscape woven from the raw threads of your trauma, stitched together by every broken memory you’d ever tried to bury. The walls pulsed with the red glow of memories turned nightmare—bright, brutal, and unforgiving.

Uniformed trainers marched past your cell in endless procession, faceless girls, silent and anonymous, shuffling with hollow precision. Their boots echoed hollowly against the metal floor. You were trapped again, locked inside the cage you’d fought so hard to break free from years ago.

You screamed.

Your voice tore through the stagnant air, raw and ragged, until your throat felt shredded and your lungs burned. But the sound was swallowed whole by the walls, absorbed by the endless void of the room—no response, no mercy.

Time lost meaning here.

Minutes bled into hours, hours into days—or maybe it was years, your sense of reality shattered by the endless torment of isolation. You counted only the distant footsteps—the heavy, deliberate steps of the trainers, echoing through the halls beyond your cell, a constant reminder of your imprisonment.

Then, finally, the door creaked.

Light spilled into the darkness, harsh and unwelcoming. You flinched, instinctively shrinking back into the shadows.

The door swung open, revealing a figure stepping inside.

Marc.

No.

Not Marc.

Steven?

He stumbled forward, eyes wide and searching, breath catching as he took in the bleak surroundings. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, voice rough with disbelief, “this place is worse than the hospital…”

Behind him stood Marc—stern, worn, and weary, his gaze heavy with a sorrow that seemed to carry the weight of countless battles fought in silence. His eyes held both recognition and regret.

And then, in the deeper shadows, another figure lingered.

Quiet. Watching.

Jake Lockley.

The presence was unsettling, an unspoken tension filling the space like static.

Your throat tightened. You struggled to find your voice. “I—what is this?”

Marc’s voice came low, flat, but steady. “We’re dead. Or close to it. This… this is your version of the Duat.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, hollow and cold. “Figures mine would look like this.”

Your mind reeled, memories flooding back—the endless days trapped in darkness, the countless hours alone with your fear and pain, the slow erosion of hope. You had been lost here for what felt like an eternity—time slipping away, a cruel jest from whatever power held you prisoner.

Steven reached out, his hand steady but gentle, and brushed a stray lock of damp hair from your forehead. “We need to get you out of here,” he said quietly, his voice a lifeline pulling you from the darkness.

Marc stepped forward, gripping your arms firmly but carefully. The coldness of the Red Room seemed to cling to your skin, but as they began to guide you forward, you felt the suffocating walls start to dissolve like mist—fracturing, crumbling, fading away.

=

The sensation was dizzying, like waking from a fevered dream into a world too bright, too sharp, too real. Your knees buckled, but they caught you, steadying you as the oppressive red glow gave way to something colder, harder—the sterile white of an unfamiliar place.

You blinked rapidly, disoriented but aware.

“We’re… out?” Your voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through.

Marc didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around warily, eyes scanning the new surroundings as if expecting the nightmare to claw its way back. “What was that place?” he finally asked, voice low, wary.

You swallowed hard, struggling to put the surreal experience into words. “It’s… my prison,” you said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “Not just a memory. It’s the Red Room—the hell I was forged in. A place built to break you down, strip away your will, and rebuild you into a weapon. Every scream, every scar, every betrayal—it’s all there, alive, clawing at me.”

Steven’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “Like a mental prison? A twisted echo of what you lived through?”

You nodded, the weight of it pressing down on your chest again. “More than that. It’s a liminal space—between life and death, past and present. The Red Room doesn’t just haunt you; it traps you. It feeds on fear, on pain, on the terror of losing yourself. It never lets go.”

Jake’s voice cut through the silence���calm but sharp, edged with understanding. “The Duat. The realm between worlds. A place that mirrors what’s inside you but can swallow you whole if you lose yourself.”

Marc’s jaw clenched, his voice low and steady. “How did you survive so long in that nightmare?”

You looked away, the echo of your screams still ringing in your mind. “I don’t know if I did it alone. Something inside me—some part that refused to break—that kept fighting. They say you have to fight to escape the Red Room’s grip. So I fought. Every second. Every breath.”

Steven gave a slow, reassuring nod. “And now you’re out. We’re here. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

You let out a shaky breath, their presence a lifeline pulling you back from the abyss.

The nightmare was over.

For now.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Watching Adventure Time

Cosmere + cartoons requested by anon. :)

Wind and Truth spoilers in the Adolin entry & the Rushu entry!

"Adventure Time" was a cartoon about Finn the Human and Jake the Dog, who went on fun adventures in the postapocalyptic wasteland they called home. It's a great show. Here's how I think Cosmere characters would to watching it!

1. Taravangian and Adrotagia

Taravangian: Princess Buttercup is definitely my favorite character. Taravangian: She's such a great ruler! Adrotagia: ...She does unethical experiments on her citizens all the time. Taravangian: Look, you don't have to convince me--she's ALREADY my favorite!

2. Kaladin

Kaladin: THAT'S what a dog is?? Kaladin: It seems like that dog in Wit's story could have stretched down into the well pretty easily... Kaladin: ...And that he could just shapeshift into a dragon whenever he wanted... Kaladin: ...Flying really wasn't off the table either... Kaladin: ... Kaladin: Wit's stories are truly inscrutable.

3. The Lord Ruler

Lord Ruler: I bet Kelsier NEVER would have been able to rally the people against me had I looked like an adorable penguin instead of a handsome man. Lord Ruler: Truly, Gunter knows more about being evil than I ever will.

4. Adolin and Maya [WIND AND TRUTH SPOILERS!]

Adolin: Storms, I wish MY arm could turn into a sword. Adolin: If I had armor for a leg AND a sword for an arm, I'd definitely be the coolest guy alive. Maya: Is grass really that strong, though? Adolin: Well, it is a fantasy after all.

5. Siri & Vivenna

Siri: Soooo, if you were in Adventure Time, what kind of princess would you be? Vivenna: What? Siri: Like, I think I would be Disco Ball Princess, with an outfit that refracts rainbows whenever light shines on it! Siri: Oooh, or Picnic Princess, and my dress is a picnic blanket and I have a magical basket that always dispenses picnic food! Siri: What about you? Vivenna: Uh.... the Blue Princess, maybe? Siri: Blue? Ha! Vivenna, I love you, but if you ever need an alter ego on another world, please try to come up with a more interesting name than "Blue"! Vivenna: ...I'll keep that in mind.

6. Dalinar & Navani

Dalinar: I feel a...kinship with the Ice King. Dalinar: He lost his memory & started hurting people. Dalinar: It was the other way around for me, but even so. Navani: ...Not all kings need to be an inspiration, gemheart. Dalinar: No, No, I really think I am onto something here.

7. Harmony & Marsh (yes, I'm sure they hang out)

Harmony: I thought I was pretty wild for including giraffes in my remade world. Harmony: But I can't believe I never thought of really small elephants! Harmony: Horses that can stand on balls and say their own names! Harmony: Sentient fire! Marsh: Maybe we shouldn't be watching this...

8. Yumi & Painter

Yumi: I think Marceline is my favorite because she reminds me of you! Painter: Really? I mean, she has a dark aesthetic 'n' all, but she's actually pretty cheerful and dorky! Yumi: [knowing look] Painter: ... Painter: Right.

9. Rushu [WIND AND TRUTH SPOILERS!]

Rushu: First, the Sibling... Rushu: Now BMO... Rushu: Two nonbinary icons? I can't keep winning!

10. Wayne & Marasi

Marasi: Wayne, are you crying?? Wayne: Yeah, a bit I guess. That Jake character just really gets to me, you know? Marasi: ...Because he maintains a relationship with a woman of another species while also getting to go on adventures with his best friend all the time? Wayne: ... Marasi: ... Wayne: ... Marasi: Or is it because you really wish you had stretchy powers? Wayne: I want them SO bad!

[firefly--bright]

Hii, how are you?? I saw that your requests are open, can I ask for some headcanons about how the birthday boy would ask reader to be their s/o, plss??

I love your Jean fics btw❤️❤️

HII I'm currently dying again when am I not tbh ʕ⁠´• ᴥ •`⁠ʔ

but fuck yes. here to fulfill my duty

✿ he would be thinking about it so much. like so much. it consumes him, and he doesn't want to admit it

✿ like genuinely he's the type of guy to write both your initials with a heart. he does the FLAMES things with your names, feet swinging and giggling in bed just thinking about you and him being eachothers. ykwim

✿ god forbid he says allat out loud though. GOD FORBID.

✿ anyway. he wants to ask you in this grand, beautiful, memorable way. wants himself to be the best person you've dated bcs he's competitive as hell. he's fighting ghosts at this point

✿ he plans out a picnic date with you, tells you it's a surprise. asks you to "wear anything you want queen you'd look good in anything" over text bcs if he has to ask you out for this face to face he would piss himself and die

✿ you tell him you're going to arrive naked. he texts back, "ur a public nuisance" and then panics and adds "a pretty one" ok man. sure

✿ THE DAY HAS COME and he had called his mom like three hours before he had to leave to make sure that he knows how a picnic works. like he has all the food prepared and the blanket washed, anything you'd need to be comfortable outside, he has. digestives. painkillers. epi pens LITERALLY EVERYTHING LMFAO bcs he's thinking of all worst case scenarios. what if a bee bites you and you die.

✿ he hopes you don't. when he comes to pick you up, his breath is taken away from him. he's stuttering over his words to call you a compliment fit for a poetry award, but all he's able to come up with is "your... you're good." that's all. you're good. well atleast he means it

✿ god he's such an idiot. right anyway so the entire picnic, you're making jokes and conversing and he's having such a good time and the weather is actually so perfect, there's gentle wind ruffling your hair when your hand finds its way into his and for a moment he stops listening to the story of how your pranked your cousins once, because all he can think about is how perfectly your fingers interlock with his, calluses and wrinkles laying over his. how many worlds had to have collapsed and remade and how many fates and futures had to be adjusted over and intricately woven together for the two of you to be sitting here, at that moment, the picture of what jean thought to be confusingly perfect sitting next to him, talking to him. his heart simultaneously sped up and slowed down.

✿ okay and this was his plan, right - he'd wait until the end of the date to properly ask you to be his partner. there was an ice cream parlor next to the garden you were sitting in, and he'd made sure they had any of the flavours you usually go for, after which he'd take you for a little drive if the weather permitted, and then drop you back home, which was when he'd ask you. if you said no, then the both of you could have a quick escape (you could simply enter your apartment and he could wallow in self pity in the privacy of his car) and if you'd say yes, he could hold your face and kiss you as he always did, and your apartment would welcome him with its infinite warmth.

✿ but things don't go as planned with jean. they never had ; he's had to change his major atleast three times in his freshman year, his old crush (whom he'd hopelessly planned to run away with) barely even acknowledged his existence, his childhood plans of wanting to help his mother out with her bakery business, plans of finding out where his biological father went - none of them went the way he wanted. so it was no surprise to him (atleast, not as much as a surprise as he'd expected) when he just blurted it out. mid sentence, stopping your dwindling story that you could tell his mind wasn't in, he had asked "be my partner." it wasn't a question, not that you mind too much, but he said it with pleading hidden under his tongue anyway.

✿ there was a best of silence where jean allowed himself to panic and remain hopeful at the same time, contradicting his situation and feelings as he often found himself doing. but then your thumb traces a circle on the back of his hand, and then another, and then your lips were on his cheek, placing a small, inaudible kiss there.

✿ "ask me again. how you want to." you tell him, and god he likes you so much - bordering hopeless again - because you knew, without words exchanged, almost psychic, that he'd actually been thinking about this for a longer time then he let on, that he had a plan, one that he willingly ruined.

✿ he nods slowly, abiding your statement. you continue with your story after a little bit of a pleasing silence, and jean takes you to the ice cream parlor he'd checked out (as expected, you had ordered the chocolate and mocha flavours scooped together), drove you around while telling you about how his sisters absolutely tortured him while soft music played through the speakers, and then before leaving you, infront of the door of your apartment with its inviting warmth, under the best version of a porch light that urban decency could provide that was lined with two moths, he asked you. a proper question, without hesitance but nervousness still, "would you like to be my partner?"

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) happy birthday to that guy. i love him. i hope you enjoyed this!

[slasherholic]

Disclaimer: This is a repost! I deleted then remade my blog (more on that here) and people have requested for me to repost some of my old fics as they have become unavailable due to my deletion. Enjoy :-)

Synopsis: A shitty night leaves you in desperate need of some TLC, so you abandon better judgement and show up unannounced at Asa’s door.

Contains: gender neutral reader, themes of an abusive relationship, forced cuddling, Asa does fluff very much his own way :v

Words: 3k

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | When Push Comes to Shove

You can recall thinking the first time Asa invited you to stay the night that his house, with its muted-yellow paint and red brick walkway, its porch furnished with plants inhabiting deep clay pots and all the curtains drawn back on all the windows, was not the sort of house you’d expect him to own. His interior decor is less than subtle; still. You figure you could drive right on down his neighborhood street without ever guessing the identity of the man who lives at residence 859.

But the better you’ve come to know Asa beyond what he presents to his peers at work, Dr. Emory, professor, museum curator, the more you’ve come to realize why this is exactly the house a man like Asa would own.

You stand on the brick walkway in front of the door looking through the ornate glass window. All the lights are off inside. Off to the right a red porch chair swings soundlessly back and forth on its thin silver chains in the breeze. You aren’t sure if you’re actually going to ring and wake him up. In fact, you’ve come prepared with a multitude of excuses to walk away which you concocted on the drive over.

Asa works very early sometimes. It wouldn’t be fair to wake him up for your own selfish reasons in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t be responsible to test his patience with a spontaneous visit. It might end very poorly for you; but being close to him tonight, in any capacity, even for half an hour, even if he’s not being particularly kind to you, sounds better for you right now than spending the whole night alone.

So you ring it.

The chime carries far in his dark house and shatters the silence in a way that makes your breath catch and your toes curl in your shoes. The note dies as suddenly as it began. Insects sing in the distance. The wind ripples through the trees and carries the song far away. Asa’s neighborhood street is picturesquely peaceful. 

You set your jaw when a light goes on by the stairs, hugging your arms against the gust that’s picking up.

You don’t hear Asa’s quiet footsteps approaching, but you can see his dim silhouette getting bigger through the thin curtain on the opposite side of the glass. Maybe you should back away. He won’t try anything out here, but inside, well—you would like to be able to sit down at work tomorrow.

You squint and blink as the bright yellow light overhead goes on, illuminating the porch. Too late for a change of heart. The lock clicks on the inside of the door. The knob turns and twists sharply. He pulls it open.

Asa isn’t quite scowling at you, but the look he’s regarding you with is less than understanding. He’s dressed down to a dark cotton t-shirt and the same grey chinos he was wearing earlier when you visited him during lunch, thrown so hastily back on that the top button is undone. His hair is atypically untidied. You can see the sleep still hanging in his eyes, just barely. You definitely woke him up.

He surveys you up and down. You watch his eyes flit up over you, past you, scanning the street behind you, then back at you again.

“Interesting hour of the night to show up without calling. Everything alright?”

Asa’s tone isn’t cutting, but it’s devoid of concern enough to imply that he’s really telling you something to the effect of, “this had better be a damn good excuse, or I won’t be in a very good mood.”

You don’t have a good excuse. So you say the first thing that comes to mind. Not because you think he can be bribed; just to get into his house faster. You sorely underestimated how bitter the chill out here would be from inside your car.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You say. “I just really need you to fuck me right now. Any way you want, I don’t care.”

Asa doesn’t blink. His irritation is plastered on his face.

“Flattering. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No. My phone died on the way over, that’s why I didn’t text or call.” It’s the truth. You watch him, looking him in the eyes even though the coldness creeping into his stare hurts more than a little bit.

“I’m sorry.” You add. “Can I please come in? I don’t care what we do.”

Asa leans his shoulder into the doorframe, his shirt sleeves getting tighter when he crosses his arms over his chest, watching you closely.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to go with? I’m having a hard time buying it.” He concludes, shifting his weight away from the door. He takes a step towards you, and you know better than to take one back. Now he’s looming.

“I’d like to know what this is about before I let you in, that’s not asking a lot. So why don’t you start over? Would you like to tell me what you’ve been crying about?”

You shuffle your feet on the walkway. No use in lying, Asa can see right through you when you’re this vulnerable. You’re shivering as you give him the truth. He listens wordlessly, his arms still crossed.

When you finish, you’re hugging yourself beneath your armpits, trying not to look like the cold has you quaking so miserably, and when you glance up at Asa again, he’s watching you with the same unpitying look as when you started. You fear for a moment he might not let you in after all, so you drop your eyes to the red brick walkway. This was a mistake. You aren’t sure what you were thinking running over here to him like this.

Then, Asa exhales, deeply. Uncrossing his arms, he steps aside.

“Fine.” He says, holding the door open with one hand. “You’re already here. In, before you freeze.”

You gaze up at him for a moment. He looks back at you expectantly, his face still rather agitated, but when he blinks you can see the weariness hanging in his eyes, well-masked, more noticeable the longer you hold his stare. You suppose he’s too tired to turn you away.

You rush in through the door before he changes his mind. Turning around in front of his coffee table, you catch the tail end of him returning something to a drawer in the stand next to the door. He pushes it shut without looking at you.

“If you’re waiting for permission to go up to my room, the answer is yes. Go.” He says, locking the door behind him, and then he stares at you, as if considering you.

“But go straight to sleep.” He adds.

You will.

You turn and climb the stairs, going on ahead to his bedroom, where the light is on. His brown jacket has been tossed over his armchair, his work shirt hanging unbuttoned over the armrest. Must have been a long day. You’re more than a little shocked he’s letting you stay. There’s the pang of guilt again; Asa must be one of the hardest working men you’ve ever met, and he needs every hour of sleep he can get.

Climbing onto his bed, you slip beneath the downy bedspread on the opposite side from where he’s pulled the covers back. You plop your head on the pillow and your next breath brings the detergent he runs in his wash. When you stretch out your legs, you close your eyes with a shudder and a half-hearted sigh. The sheets retain heat well; you can feel exactly where he was sleeping.

Not long after, Asa’s measured footsteps are coming up the stairs.

You’re already curled up with your face in the pillow when he enters the room, careful that your only sound is your breathing. Though your mind is still romping places you wish it wouldn’t, you can at the very least look like you’re making an effort to comply with his instructions.

Asa flicks the light off when he passes the switch. His quiet footsteps stop in front of the bed. You crack one eye open to keep track of him in case he’s about to touch you so you don’t jerk. His broad silhouette is stooped over a bit beyond the foot of the bed, shrugging off his chinos, undressing down to the pair of dark boxer briefs he must have worn to bed.

“That’s not straight to sleep.” He comments dryly, straightening up and draping his pants over the armrest next to his button-up shirt. You shift a bit under the covers when you realize he’s been watching you.

“Are we done crying? Full disclosure, I won’t be letting you sleep here the next time you have one of these little breakdowns if you wake me up. Again. Alright?”

You nod your head slowly up and down where your cheek rests on the pillow. But when you think about it longer, suddenly, you aren’t so sure. There’s a way he can distract you. There’s also not a chance in hell you’re going to ask him for that right now.

“You know what, I can’t promise that. I’m sorry. I’ll go sit downstairs if I have to do it.”

Asa clicks his tongue.

“That isn’t good enough. Wait here—“

“No.”

Shit. You should have kept a lid on that; he’s stopped in his tracks.

“Asa, please, I don’t want anything like that. I just want—I honestly think what would help the most right now is…” Your voice breaks and trails off. You don’t like the way his outline has frozen in the dark, head cocked over his shoulder, listening too intently to your proposition. His mood is souring fast.

“That was going somewhere.” He comments, after a long beat. “I think you should finish. Let’s hear it.” He doesn’t bother to turn around and face you.

“Nevermind. Listen, I’m sorry. Something to drink sounds fine.”

He lets out a particularly deep breath, his wide shoulders going up and down.

“If you’d like to do it that way, we’ll pick this up in a minute. Stay put.”

You don’t watch him leaving the room, you just roll your face back into the soft pillow, not keen on finding out what he means by that.

When Asa comes back, you follow him with cautious eyes as he goes around the bed, until he plops a bottle of water down on the nightstand next to your head. You glance at its cap; unbroken.

“I want that empty before you get up in the morning.” He says, going back around the bed, out of view. 

“Do I look that bad?” You say at the wall, meaning it to be some sort of joke.

He makes a sound like a scoff under his breath, but doesn’t answer. That hurts you a little more than you were expecting, so you close your eyes when the mattress dips down, his weight rolling you a little toward him, and you’re about to shuffle stubbornly away from him again when—

His arm snakes around your middle from behind.

You nearly lurch and yell, but he’s already sweeping you across the sheets before you can manage any sort of struggle, the arm banding your midriff flexing, giving you a tight squeeze. You’re helpless to prevent the shudder that rocks your body. 

“Asa, no. I changed my mind.”

“Ah-ah, no you haven’t. No more talking.” 

“Yes I did, please let go, I’ll go to sleep. I swear. Please let go of me.” You’re trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

He breathes into your hair, shifting his arms beneath you, and locks his fingers together around your waist. Oh, you asshole.

“Asa, let go. I said I don’t want this right now.”

You’re gripping his wrist so hard your own fingers are starting to ache. His steady heartbeat pounds up through his chest and you can feel it on your shoulder.

“One more lie to me, and you’ll regret coming over and waking me up.”

The sleep is gone from his voice just like that. And now being trapped this close to him is nothing short of unbearable.

Your hand shoots down to pull adamantly at his thick wrists still locked around your middle and as you knew would happen his arms only snake tighter, becoming restraints. You know you can’t pry him off and you try anyway. When you lurch and thrash and knock your head against his chest he seizes one of your arms, scooping up the other in the same hand, holding them securely to your stomach, sparing none of his strength to put an end to your flailing. Your toes curl as his lips brush your ear.

“Shhh.”

You whip your face back and forth on the pillow so fast it burns your cheek. Not fair. You hate it when he does that. He’s borderline torturing you now and not even trying to make it subtle.

“Asa, let go of me right this god damn—mmph!“

His hand shoots over your mouth before you can finish, squishing your jaw, fingers engulfing your face. The words he whispers next to your head are the lock that seals the argument.

“When have I ever let you talk back to me in my own house?”

You make a broken whine. He hasn’t. He doesn’t let you do that.

“I’ve been incredibly patient with you.” He continues. “You wanted this so badly you showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night for it. Five minutes ago you were ready to beg for it, don’t you dare be disingenuous with me. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you that this is the way it’s going to be. You’re here, you’re done now. I’m very tired. Go to sleep.”

Your heart is pounding out of control. You’re petrified, sniffling, starting to cry. The fight drains out of your body like you’re giving up the ghost. You collapse against him with a tiny, shuddering sigh. He’s right; he wins. You’re done.

His hand leaves your mouth when you dribble spit on his fingers which he wipes off on your shorts. When your shoulders start to tremble with hitched breaths he pets your navel gently, stroking your stomach back and forth with the flat of his thumb.

Everything gets better when you stop fighting him. The tightness of his hold gets a little bit looser when he feels in your dead-weight how thoroughly you’ve given up. He moves up to brush a tender spot on your ribs while you bury your face deeper into the pillow in defeat and let the tears out.

You fall into utter silence when it’s all gone.

“There. There you are.” Asa comments. You don’t hear his yawn, but you can feel it flexing his chest muscles and tightening his abdomen, and when it’s done, you can feel the tension draining from his own body. “What did I tell you?”

The jest is rhetorical so you don’t bother opening your mouth. He’s not caging you anymore, just holding you, stroking your waist very slowly beneath your thin nightshirt. 

Several minutes pass.

“Asa?”

You wouldn’t normally dare ask him this, but you figure you’re already too far up shit creek for it to matter.

Precarious seconds pass before he speaks.

“It had better be life or death.” He mutters into your hair.

“I’m still a bit cold.”

You feel his exhale on your neck and then he sits up, reaching, pulling the blankets over both of you. His arm returns to your waist.

“Thank you, but, do you think maybe you can—“

“Fine.” He cuts you off. “But that’s the end of it.”

He pulls his arm away again, pushing up on his elbow, and you watch his silhouette on the wall gather his shirt around his waist, pulling it up over his head in a fluid motion. You hurry out of your own, tossing it over the side of the white bedspread.

A soft sound floods out of you when Asa hugs you from behind. When your back meets his bare chest a chill spills over. You’re shuddering at the heat of his embrace, at the weight of his arms, at the way you feel like melting ice against his body.

He lifts two fingers to your mouth, holding them over your lips.

“Not another word.”

You nod. He gives your lower lip an acknowledging brush. His weight comes down somewhere on the pillow behind you, very close to your head.

The night drags on in silence.

Asa’s breathing has fallen even and quiet on the back of your neck. His arm is draped loosely over you, fingers half-curled around your wrist. He’s asleep.

Even when you know this, you don’t try to untangle yourself from his arms. You do not move, do not fidget against him. You just grip his slack hand, rubbing his fingers, feeling the smooth surface of his broad, clipped fingernails, the light yet raised scars peppering his skin that you figure were obtained during fieldwork, or maybe some mishap with tools, although that doesn’t sound much like Asa; you’ve never witnessed a hint of carelessness in his work. When you shut your eyes, you clutch his hand tightly to your chest. This is what you needed.

You can practically hear his voice chiming in,

“Look at that. Told you so.”

You suppose he did. You suppose Asa always knows best.

[powerpcinside]

Underdark Party Skin

This was an anon request for a version of my Underdark Blues skin to be used with Party for One as a base, and it was fairly trivial do do so I went ahead and made it. Lazy preview is lazy because the textures are basically the same as the original skin, just in a different shade. Also, the "Tan" (second lightest) skin is out of order because SimPE killed the first file and I remade it.

Comes in Custom skintones only. Download SFS

[now-for-wrath-now-for-ruin]

I have recently become SO obsessed with your art its truly stunning!!

If you're still talking requests I'd love to see your interpretation of dwarven women and maybe how their clothes differ from male dwarves! I'd also absolutely adore to see how you do their beards because the way you draw hair is so perfect!!!!!

Thank you so much!! <3 I absolutely agree that the dwarven women deserve proper beards! I thought of making Dís and Thorin, but I didn't have the time to make Thorin as well, perhaps later! But I remade Gimli's design earlier, so that can work as a bit of a comparison.

So here's my new design for Gimli, including a gigolas drawing I made for another request (click to see that properly). He's wearing armor so this doesn't show that well the differences between men's and women's fashions, but I think you'll get a bit of an idea at least.

Here's my design for Dís.

So, as mentioned before Old Norse is my main inspiration for dwarves, but there's Bronze Age influences as well, Bronze Age Iberian Peninsula for the jewelry and Greece for Gimli's armor, as well as a bit of Eastern European and Jewish influences. I decided that dwarven women would keep their beards and hair relatively short, while the men would keep them long, both would still keep them braided. I made Dís two different jewelry styles. I'm thinking the giant wheels are more of a ceremonial style, while the other style is more casual for a noble woman. Also, I have not drawn it for Gimli, but while women wear a veil, I'd have the men wear a cap.

[theangelcatalogue]

WHAT'S WRONG? || YANDERE FRANCIS X READER! || ★!

★ - Romantic or Platonic(?)!

★ - Gender Neutral reader!

★ - One shot!

★ - Before we start: Idk why i did this, but i saw fics of him, and people going crazy over him, so why not?? I don't even write for that's not my neighbour, but i love the game! So let' go! Also sorry if is confusing! My mind is kinda tired and idk why i wrote this at 1AM(Is i wrote this at 1AM, remade some parts and posted it at 2AM) (Pls check Tw before reading it! <3)

★ - TW: YANDERE, DOPPELGANGER, BLOOD, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!

   ˚๑ ✦ Y/N!!! ✦ ๑°

・・・ ★ ・・・

︶ ꒷ ︶ ꒷ ꒦

Just a normal day in work!

This work is not that bad, i mean, i have to focus in every single neighbor, check some papers and be careful because some of than can be actually doppelgangers that will kill me and the persons that live here? Yeah-

But is guess i am getting used to it! And some neighbors are really nice! And others are just weird and rude! But what i can do? People are like that!

It's kinda weird that no one is showing up now, but i can have some time to rest now! Just me, a good coffee and my jornal/book(it can be a jornal or a book!)

Now i am just reading, waiting for anyone, i mean the today's list is short today! Lucky me i guess? I get kinda focused in the reading, the content is kinda depressing and boring, but is what i have for now

" Hello Y/n. "

I heard someone saying, Oh! I can't forget this voice!

" Francis! Tired as always? Well, let's see if you are in todays list! "

I said not taking the eyes of my jornal/book, i am lucky that Francis is the one who showed up! He is kinda nice! Just a tired guy but hey! He is a hardworker!

" Sounds good for me. Here is my entry request and ID "

I could notice him giving the papers, now i notice his hand is kinda dirty and his voice is kinda off, more tired than usual...

" Oh! Thanks- "

I respond him finally taking my eyes of the book, now i can see Francis better let's say, he is covered in a red liquid with a weird smell

It is what i am thinking? Oh yeah! A doppelganger! But i never thought a doppelganger would commit a error like that, why blood...? Some are a missing eye, others just say peach and others are a long neck and etc, what if is not a doppelganger...?

" What's wrong Y/n? Something wrong about the papers? "

He says noticing that i am kinda nervous, i just pick the papers and the clickboard as usual, first thing to question?

His looks.

" Francis! What happend? You are corvered in...what is that? Can you explain? "

Francis just looks at his outifit and then back at me, the same tired look, but something about the way he looks at me is different, i can't tell what is

" Oh this? It's a new milk! Scarlett Milk! It's a Milk with Red coloring, and Yes, it's food coloring! Not used in clothes... "

" Really Francis? So tell me! How did you got corvered in...Scarlett Milk...? "

He was getting tired of me questioning i guess, okay, i have three options!

1. It's really a milk with food coloring

2. It's a doppelganger

3. Francis is a killer or just got crazy

Please let it be 1-

" Accident at work. Just that, can i go in? "

He asks me looking at me deep at the eyes, i feel like he is judging all my sins, i break the eye contact and look at the Red button and then at the phone

Should i call the police or my boss?

" Look Y/N, i am really tired, just let me in, so i can go take a shower and rest. Maybe after you are done, you can go to my room, drink some coffee together! I heard is your favorite drink, what about a coffee with milk uh? "

He says to me, i think he is getting impatient

OH REALLT Y/N L/N!? DON'T TELL ME

" I- "

" Come on darling. "

He gets closer to the window, supporting his one of his arms in the glass

" Let. Me. In "

✦ - NOTES!!!

✮ " Sky wtf was that? " I DON'T KNOW LOL ✮

✮ The fandom go crazy about him gosh ✮

✮ Okay should i write for TNMN??? ✮

✮ Anyways have a good day my loves! <33 ✮

[mzminola]

Also read volumes one and four of Zdarsky's Batman run, Failsafe and Dark Prisons, I should probably request volumes two and three to read instead of just relying on tumblr knowledge to fill in the time skip (after I work through this current stack of comics).

Definitely seeing echoes with The Knight. Young Bruce descending into what will one day be the Batcave because he's valuing nature's dark unknown, not just manmade structure; Tim and the other Batkids descending into a cave system when they need to decide if this Bruce is real and worth taking the risk of trusting, in contrast to Zur uploading himself into the robot body.

(Plus the paralleled archery training in the woods, saw people talking about that, love it.)

I knew Bruce was gonna get blasted to another universe, not actually shot dead, but the end of Failsafe did still manage to pull the heartstrings? The Knight had the recurring theme of Bruce's trauma witnessing his parents' deaths, the trauma of gun violence, often but not always overlapping. Multiple panels of seeing down Joe Chill's gun and the face behind it being compared to something in Bruce's present. Bruce desperately trying to prevent others being victimized the same way (and failing both because he is new at this, and because this is noir genre).

And then they fucking just! Directly remade that traumatizing scenario! With Bruce as the parent about to be murdered and Tim as the kid! We know Tim has lost parents (in front of him!) before, but this one is not visually set up to mirror Janet or Jack or even seeing the Grayson's fall, it's very specifically mirroring Bruce's experience, it is both of them at one end of a gun and Bruce has already done everything he can to prevent this, and we don't get one more attempt at evasion or defensive violence, we get...

We get Bruce turning to Tim and saying "It's okay."

Bruce has tried over and over and over to stop the repetition of his core trauma on others, and he can't, and now the very last thing he does is offer comfort.