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intheemptymirror · 19 days ago

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drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

#fullmirror #miscmirror #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #enhypensmirror

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lumiambrose · 29 days ago

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✰ masked intentions

kinktober 24 - day twentynine

featuring: tabito karasu x f!reader

summary: it's the party of the year, and you’re on a mission to get laid. seems like the ghostface you ran into wants to endulge your fantasies.

tags: smut, mask kink, slight predator/prey, petnames (darling, pretty), reader is wearing lingere, big dick karasu, paise, possessive karasu, tiny bit of angry fucking, teeny tiny bit of degrading, oral (m!receiving), @/strawchocoberry cameo <3

wc: 2.6k

it’s the night of halloween. children are trick or treating, couples are binge-watching scary movies under blankets together, and you’re getting ready for the biggest party of the year. you’re slipping on the wings of your angel costume (which is really just a flimsy piece of white lingerie) as you get ready with your friends. all of you doing your best to make an impression. i mean, you’ve heard that stars from across the world will be there. you for sure won’t miss the opportunity to mingle with a-listers.

you arrive at the function, and it’s not long until your friend group has split up. while some are trying their luck at one of the many games of chance, others are buying over-the-top colourful drinks. you though, find yourself on the dancefloor with your friend, candy. swaying your hips as you dance on one another. you all had a few drinks before arriving to the party, which are now starting to take effect as your vision gets dizzy and your body feels lighter. although you're snapped out of your trance by the strong smell of cologne filling your senses. it takes you a moment to process the unfamiliar smell, although before you can turn around, you feel two large palms on you, swaying your hips for you.

candy lets out a short giggle before disappearing amongst the sea of people, leaving you alone with the stranger behind you. he finally spins you around, keeping his hands firm on you as you get your first glance at him. he’s tall, muscular too. although quite underdressed. donned in a black shirt and pants, but what really catches your attention is the scream mask covering his face.

the music pounds in sync with your heartbeat, your pulse quickening as his hands move you. he’s firm, but not too rough, guiding your movements like it’s second nature. he looks down at you, tilting the mask slightly, and you can almost feel his gaze burning through the fabric. he’s close, way too close for a stranger, but you find the tension quite enjoyable.

you smirk, still dancing in his grasp, but now you glide your hands up his chest, giving you the chance to feel him up. to no surprise, you feel his hard abs beneath the shirt, tracing them with your finger. "you always dance with strangers like this?" you tease, voice low and playful, barely audible over the pounding bass.

he doesn’t answer you verbally. instead, the grip he has on your hips tightens just a little, pulling you closer so that your body is pressed up against his. you catch your breath, feeling goosebumps trail up your skin. you wonder if he’s enjoying this as much as you.

"not much of a talker, huh?" you challenge, grinning up at him. his silence is intoxicating, like a dare you can’t help but take. you slip out of his grasp, taking a step back, watching as his head tilts ever so slightly, almost like he’s intrigued—confused. your heart races, the alcohol left in your system giving you enough courage to pull through with your silly stunt.

"it’s a pity, ghostface. you can’t just stare at me the whole night and expect me to fold.” you whisper, barely above a breath. “catch me if you can." with that, you take off into the crowd.

you sneak and wriggle your way through the sea of costumes, your pulse pounding in your ears. you glance back once, twice—he’s following. even while you’re running away, you can feel his presence, his height towering over everyone else as he keeps up without even breaking a sweat. the thrill of him chasing you sends a rush of adrenaline through you.

you turn a corner, slipping into a darker part of the casino where the lights are dimmer, more ambient. you try to blend in, but before you can catch your breath, you feel it again—those hands.

he’s fast.

he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his body as though he’s done this a hundred times before. he spins you around, backing you up against the wall, and you let out a breathless laugh, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

"gotcha," he murmurs, finally speaking. the first thing you notice is his accent and low voice, sending a shiver down your spine.

you look up at him, trying to keep your cool despite being out of breath and shaky. his mask is close, his body pressing into yours, making your skin burn. "that was quick," you tease, catching your breath.

"you didn’t run fast enough," he replies, his voice carrying a teasing edge now, one that mirrors your own.

something in his words makes your stomach flip. he leans in closer, giving you no space to move, gaining your undivided attention. even if you do want to look away, you know you can’t. you’re too enamoured by your mystery man to do so.

before you could ruin the mood, his voice interrupts you. “seeing as i caught ya, it’s only fair i receive a reward, no?” instead of giving you time to reply, he scoops you into his arms, leading you away from the casino. frankly, you should be scared shitless by now, but your gut is telling you that you’ll regret it if you chicken out tonight.

he ends up carrying you to a hotel room, presumably his, and on the way there you can’t stop thinking about his voice. you know you’ve heard it before; it’s so familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on from where.

although, as you finally enter the hotel room, your brain clicks. you’re greeted by a lavish suite with a king-sized bed and a view to die for. although what really catches your eye is the pair of cleats and pxg uniform.

you connect the dots. you’re in karasu tabitos hotel room.

“karasu?” you don’t even think as you murmur his name, still trying to process the situation at hand.

he pauses. you’re still in his arms, but not for much longer. “oh? so you do know who i am,” he mutters, sounding almost disappointed in you. “were ya feignin’ innocence the entire night, huh? ya want me that badly?” he throws you onto the bed before leaning in, towering over your frame. even without seeing his face, he looks frighteningly hot. you can even see a trace of his abs beneath his shirt.

“that doesn’t matter, does it? yer still gonna give me my reward. ain’t that right, darlin’?” his right hand moves to your face, holding you firm, forcing you to lock eyes with him. even underneath the mask, you can feel his eyes burning into yours. you muster out a quiet “mhm”, but he won’t take that as an answer.

“c’mon pretty. can’t quite hear ya. ya gonna let me use ya?” he’s much closer this time and it’s intoxicating. your instincts are telling you to undress him then and there, but you’re too scared to make your move yet. instead, you play along with his little game.

“of course. use me all you want, mister ghostface.” a smirk plays on your lips, doing your best to hide the excitement coursing through you. although, he doesn’t seem all too pleased with your answer.

“ghostface? though ya knew my name,” he tuts, feigning sadness in his words. “what a dumb bitch. guess i’ll have to fuck it into yer head tonight.”

he rips your outfit. not even giving you time to breath as he removes the cheap fabric, tossing any stray pieces to the side as he basks in the sight of your bare body.

“what a naughty angel i’ve caught,” he’s moving you to the side of the bed, helping you off. “ya gonna repent for yer sins? on yer knees, darlin’.”

you obey eagerly. i mean, who in your situation wouldn’t? you’re naked, in your celebrity crush’s hotel room, who's asking you to suck him off. only a fool would give up a situation like yours. following his orders, you sink to your knees, occupying the space between his legs. you take matters into your own hands as they sneak their way to his crotch, feeling up the area in front of you, earning a light groan before you tug at the hem of his clothes and rid them.

you could already tell he’s big, but now? you’re almost taken aback. can all that even fit in your mouth? you trace the vein along the lower side of his length, earning another low noise from him. growing impatient, he grabs a fistful of your hair, guiding you closer to his cock.

you hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight before you. ironically, it’s quite familiar. you've fantasised about moments like this countless times, and now that it's actually happening, it feels almost surreal. you close the remaining distance, your tongue darting out to lick his angry tip, tasting the salty pre-cum that has gathered there. he shudders at the contact, his grip on your hair tightening as he pushes you further onto his shaft.

you finally take him into your mouth, inch by inch. it's a struggle to fit him in, but you carry on nonetheless, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth as you push him deeper. you start to bob your head up and down, your lips sealed tightly around him as you work your way along his length. sucking on the muscle whilst teasing his tip with your tongue when you have the chance. he’s quite expressive, to your surprise, not trying to cover his noises at all, letting you hear the way you make him feel.

“shit—darlin’, just like that,” he mutters out in between moans. “yer gonna take every fuckin’ inch i give ya, understood?” his hand sneaks around you, grabbing a fistfull of your hair and letting him guide you up and down on his length. every lick, slurp, and bob of your head only pushing him further. you try your best to keep up with his movements, but it only feels like he’s getting bigger by the second. drool pooling at the corners of your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks, trying not to choke on the length fucking your throat.

of course, karasu notices your struggle. he finds it quite amusing, seeing such a pretty thing gag on his dick, trying so hard to impress him. he partially wishes you could see the expression under the ghost mask, but alas, he won’t ruin the immersion just yet. instead, he opts to see just how far you’re willing to take things with him. “look at ya. ya havin’ fun takin’ my cock, pretty?” he teases from above. despite not being able to see the expression playing on his face, you can tell he’s mocking you. although, instead of giving you the chance to whimper around him, he abruptly pulls you away. you let out a gasp, finally able to breathe as you stare up at him with confused eyes.

“what’s wrong, darlin’? ya want my cock in yer mouth that badly?” he pulls you up from off the ground and pushes you onto the bed. “too damn bad. need that slutty cunt suckin’ me dry.” your bare back makes contact with the luxurious bed, enjoying the brief moment of relaxation before the masked man climbs on top of you, making you sink deeper into the mattress. he latches onto you in an instant, hands roaming your body, every touch electric against your skin. he quickly positions himself between your legs, his leaking member pressing against your wet entrance. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it's driving you wild.

“ya gonna be mine tonight? gonna make ya mine, pretty,” he growls into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. although, despite his claims, he still teases the area around your hole, prodding his tip against you and collecting the leaking slick. it’s making you desperate, desperate for any touch, any friction, any pleasure. you grind yourself against him, taking anything he’ll give you with a whiny plea, “yes—please karasu, wanna be yours.”

frankly, he’s not too sure why you specifically are driving him wild. after all, you’re just another fangirl, one that coincidentally caught his attention. but the way those words left your mouth, the way you begged him, something inside of him snapped. without giving you time to adjust, he enters you, setting a brutal pace.

“good fuckin’ girl, gonna be my perfect lil’ cumslut,” he’s breathing hard against your neck, even with the mask, you can still feel his hot breath on you. it’s overwhelming—his size, the pain, the pleasure—it’s all driving you insane. the burn from stretching you out still lingering as he picks up the pace, filling you up as much as possible.

he pulls away from your neck to get a good look at you through the mask. you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell his gaze is intense, taking in your every curve. “look at ya, takin’ me so well,” he coos while one of his hands finds their home on your breasts, groping the soft flesh and playing with your hardened peaks. “she’s suckin’ me in so well. ya like being used by me, hm?” any form of coherent response is beyond reason; even thinking straight is a challenge while he’s fucking you dumb on his cock.

his brutal assault continues, and you both eventually reach your orgasm, crashing over you like never before while he pulls out to make a mess all over your stomach. if you weren’t sure before, now you’re certain that he’s the best you’ll ever have. he’s made his space next to you as the two of you lie down and catch your breath together, and you almost don’t want to give him up. unconsciously, you move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his chest. honestly, you expect him to shrug you off, telling you to clean up and go home, but to your surprise, he embraces your touch and even reciprocates it with his own.

the two of you stay like that for quite a while. sweaty, naked and recovering from the intense session. the only thing left to bother you is the mask. considering the situation you’re in is already surreal enough, it won’t hurt to push your luck, right? you lean closer to him, tugging on the fabric part of his mask. “the mask, take it off,” you whisper. you wonder if you’re even audible.

he hears you, shifting his weight to face you. “take it off? not too sure, pretty. if i take it off, yer gonna be stuck with me.” his own hand is now toying with the fabric of the scream mask. “ya want that, darlin’?”

instead of answering him verbally, you let your actions speak louder. reaching over him to take off his mask, regarding it to the floor of his suite. you’re completely taken aback by the view in front of you. he’s panting, his hair is down and all messy, and he might even be blushing. but in your eyes, he looks fucking divine. frankly, you could take him then and there again and he seems to pick up on that, pulling you on top of him and claiming your mouth for the first time tonight. the way he kisses you is heavenly, like you're the only woman on this planet.

“gonna have to go back on my words, darlin’. looks like yer mine forever now.”

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network, @o-sachi

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

#✰ ─ the devils month #ambrose.fics #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #karasu smut #tabito karasu smut #karasu x reader #tabito karasu x reader #karasu tabito smut #karasu tabito x reader #karasu x reader smut #tabito karasu x reader smut #karasu tabito x reader smut #blue lock smut

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sturnlova · 9 months ago

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Podcast room (C.S)

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut, F receiving, kinda new to writing, not proof read all the way, pet names, fluff, i don’t know what else 😭 )

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 750 )

——————————————————

“Good morning campers, it’s your favourite host Nick Sturniolo… It’s Matt Sturniolo…. And it’s Chris Sturniolo with our special guest my girl Y/N!!”” As they all introduced me and asked me a couple of questions to kick it off Chris slowly but steadily pushed my skirt a bit up and my orange panties to the side, orange is a weird colour i know but chris sure seemed to like it..to the side.

Chris looked at me and used his index and middle finger to spread me a bit open and used one of his fingers to circle my clit at a agonising pace. Chris looked at Matt with a smirk and then Nick to avoid long eye contact. Nick continued on there conversation, as they usually would like every other Monday.

He added both of his fingers inside of me without a warning causing me to gasp in surprise but i seemed to cover it with a cough “Y/N you alright there it seemed like you were shocked?” Matt spoke with intent to me but started at Chris well he spoke “Ok what the fuck is going on guys” Nick spoke and looked at all of us and than continued to move on to the next topic… birds.

Chris continued using his fingers and curling them to hit the spongy spot inside of me making my legs shake due to the fact i couldn’t move or make sounds as his brothers would know that there youngest brother is fingering me underneath the table. I whispered in Chris’ ear “Chr- “ that’s not my name princess” “daddy please stop it let me cum please no more teasing, i can’t hold it for lon-longer ple-“ i was cut of with Chris’ fast movements of his fingers. The boy had magic in his fingers tips for sure, He curled them and pushed them in and out attempting to make sure my pussy sounds weren’t heard.

“ Y/N what do you think about birds?” Chris asked me, Nick and Matt stared at me waiting for a answer, “uhm ngh i think the-they are sc-i got cut of from my orgasm but i still had to keep some dignity i think they are scary i don’t like them.” Chris stared at me once again and giggled well slowly pulling his fingers out of my velvety walls and adding on to my sentence with “yeah i don’t like them they are weird.”

Chris brought his fingers to his mouth pretending to bit them but in reality he was trying too suck them clean. I just started at him with a flushed look waiting for this podcast to end. I was finally caught out of my trance and started adding onto the conversation until it was over.

Finally the podcast is over i thought to myself, i needed a glass of water. As we all walked out of the room Nick said he was gonna go edit some pre-filmed videos and just to go to order food without him since we all know his order, we all agreed.

Matt was obviously in the drivers seat, i was in the back and Chris was in the passenger seat. Chris played music in the background to stop the silence but Matt wanted to stop the silence to. “ So Y/N how do you feel knowing that i know you just got fingered in the filming room?” my jaw dropped in shock and along with Chris’. Chris hit matt on the shoulder and told him to shut it and that his just mad he dosent get pussy as good as mine.

I was gonna crawl into my skin, but instead i went insanely red. “It’s ok baby, Matt is angry he gets no bitches, but you ok tho?” this is just making the embarrment worse “ i’m ok dad- Chris i’m ok Chris” “ WHAT WAS THATT NAME UH UHHH” Matt screamed out acting like he didn’t just talk about me getting fingered. This is just getting worse by the minute. I would like to go home now with my food.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #romantic #matt sturniolo x reader #romance #matt sturniolo smut

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pascalsbby · 1 year ago

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The Devil & His Brother / II

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I / Masterlist

Summary: “Good, been staring out the window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

AKA: Bath time with the Millers 😈

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: 18 + mndi, DUBCON DRUG USE: enemies to lovers, heavy talk & use of drugs/pills, morally grey Millers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH Miller brothers instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & praying for the devil himself.

I feel like I'm sending out something so personal... and familiar in ways that I know aren't. Maybe that's how memories feel after a while.

God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn't have given us memory.

- Vi Khi Nao

“Can’t do it, Joel.”

“Goddamnit.” His huff was deep and bothered by your apparent inability to do anything he asked of you.

His anger didn't sit with you, but himself. He didn't really know that, though. Doesn't feel too much beneath the thickness of his skull. Hard-headed fucker.

The scent of you hung leaden in the steam-filled bathroom. Iron. Blood. Something saccharine that made him ache as he peeled your clothes from your weak skin. Lately, his temper has been short, and unbeknownst to you he hasn’t always been this way. Even in recent years. You assumed he was always like this, further etching the lines that softened on his face (only after yelling at you), but he would argue that you were acting like a little fuckin’ brat… so his snippy remarks were justified.

"Did all the work of carryin' you here and now you're gonna off yourself? Cause you won't let me help you bathe in the only hot bath water you've seen since you were what.... sixteen? M' not that big and scary, Bunny."

You both had your own ways of dealing with things, you guessed. Verbal expression of any kind besides small, whispered sentences had been scarce. Except for when he was angry. Except for right now.

You stopped listening because suddenly nothing seemed to matter too much. It didn’t all feel so black and white; life-ending like he was making it seem, being a real grump.

“Are you listenin’ to m–?”

His tuneful voice now sounded hollow as it bounced off of your blurring peripheral vision.

You didn’t answer Joel, instead, you listened to the music in your head and wondered how it got there. How you got into his arms.

Joel called Tommy’s name after you stumbled into his warmth. You winced at his raised voice, almost breaking you from a blissful trance. “God damnit Tommy, get in here. I can’t hold her up and wash her at the same time.” Ten minutes of Joel trying to get you in the bath like you were a fucking toddler was enough. He wouldn’t be able to hold your body up and wash you simultaneously, either. It was a two-person job to do it correctly, and gently.

Tommy returned an hour or so earlier, saying whoever had followed them had taken another way around, but they’d seen fresh hoof marks. “It’s weird Joel,” he said.

“Fuck, I just washed these jea-“ his voice coming from down the hallway. He turned the corner, changed into clean clothes, and was taken aback by your bare chest staring back at him from underneath Joel’s veined arm. His skin burns into yours.

“What the fuck did you give her?” He was immediately angry.

Give me? Peace. Radiating warmth, you thought. He didn’t know that you didn’t feel a lot anymore, but you knew deep down that you felt something more for Joel.

“She’s in pain, Tommy. Only thing she’s felt in the past nine years is pain. Help me get her in here and then take off the fucking jeans then, I don’t care. Get some towels and then get in here. Don’t know how much time we have ‘fore it wears off.” Joel growled. Then you close your eyes and let go, swimming through the low buzz in between their thrown bickers.

He’d talked real sweet to you, in hopes of getting you to take a bath. Mostly because being 'somewhere else' would be best when washing your wound, away from the water gripping at your side. Another small reason was that he didn’t want to hear you mumble, “no,” again. You needed a proper bath if you were ever going to get better. Although you didn’t seem too interested in such

That must have been the extent of Tommy’s anger, because he listens exactly to what Joel says. He unlocks his leather-backed metal belt and it hits the floor in the same instance, cling. He doesn’t mention the pills again, just takes his jeans off before he turns the handles of the running bath off and assumes his position outside of it. Joel takes his own shirt off, skin soft-looking and warm. He was sweating, skin slightly glowing from the sweat reflecting the bathroom lights. You could smell him. He kept his boxers on, still maintaining a sliver of his respect. He was willing his cock to follow the same.

He sunk himself into the bathwater with a deep groan, one of relief. Tommy walked you closer and helped you climb into the bath. It burned, felt like it was boiling. You were standing in it now, between Joel’s legs, hands still enclosed in Tommy’s as he helped you keep your balance. Joel was trying not to think about how your core was aligned perfectly before him as you stood. You turned, ass swaying as you prepared to sit on his clothed lap. They both looked away as your body was fluctuating in the prettiest fucking way they’d both ever seen.

“S’okay baby, sit down.” You bent down to hold the sides of the tub, letting Tommy go. You were spread open right in front of Joel’s face, the back of your pussy practically calling to him as it finally came in contact with his lap.

Tommy turns around and sighs before walking out of the bathroom to fetch towels like an obedient dog. Joel shuffled you, with what would have been awkward silence between the three of you if two of you weren’t high. If one of you hadn’t just left the room.

Joel has already swallowed his dusty piece of sanctuary. You had too, in the tea he made you thirty minutes ago. He was dangling another pill in front of you, now that Tommy was out of sight. This time allowing you a choice; rather than remain silent as it swam down your throat.

"Let me help you sum’ more, baby. Gonna give you something to help the hurt. Don’t go running, an’ don't tell Tommy. He wouldn't like that I'm makin’ you feel good."

Telling Tommy would consist of more non-compartmentalized guilt and yet another thing for him to look down upon Joel for. Another bullet point to add to Tommy’s list of Reasons Joel is a Fucking Asshole. And you needed help right now. This is how he could help you. So no, he would not be telling Tommy that he fed the girl more pills, too. She was simply exhausted and needed help bathing. She was in pain and needed him; them. Tommy would have done the same, no?

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

He notes your lack of hesitation to open your mouth for him. He places the bitter thing there, gently.

“Swallow.”

He smirked as you obeyed.

“You’re a’ good little thing, you know. S'good to listen and mind.” He tucked your hair behind your ear so that it wouldn’t keep falling in your face.

His drugs were now yours. His regrets, too. And he secretly hoped that his desires were burning into your body and being met with the same inner incineration. But he wasn’t regretting it right that moment. Not as he watched your body slacken. He knew your entire being was numb when you were reaching up at him, fingers looking for feeling.

His thumb ran across the plumpness of your bottom lip and his thighs flexed inadvertently. You felt the small jerk of his body, your eyes drawn upwards meeting his. He felt the moment your breathing became deeper, slipping through his skull and resting on the center of his lust. Then he heard the teetering of the old house as it sang. He heard chatter outside, and it all sounded happy, nothing scary around. He returned to your nose, where a little black wish sat, kissing your cheek. He moved his thumb up to brush the eyelash away and whisper his own silent prayer.

You looked around his face before resting your gaze on his lips, and he knew that you were slipping deeper too. The moment ended in a split second torn into a million, and you were looking him in the eyes. Your pupils are already blown, helpless, and in need of strong arms to hold you upright. It fucking hurt. You hadn’t been so willing without the drugs. The pit of his stomach crawled in need as your back rested against it. Your ass was scooted up, and he could feel the break between your legs, could feel the warmer skin of your pussy kissing his thighs.

He loosely assumed that you’d never been in the bath with a man before, either. Probably never been naked in front of one... or two. And he knew that it shouldn’t be something he was proud of, to have you here, safe in his arms and naked in his bath. But he was.

“Feel something?”

“Mhmm.”

He felt your response in the tone of your flexing abdomen. His wide fingertips sink into your cushioned fat and the softness of your stretch marks. It stung, the water, like having his presence near it set it off, simmering around his body, trying to kiss anything of him that it could. The water was pretty pink for a few moments, your body releasing the hold it had on your dried blood and the dirt accompanying it. His hands were occupied by the washcloth he was softly rubbing against your body. Then it was dark, and whenever you looked down it was harder and harder to see the end of his legs, stretching out before and underneath you, holding your body (against his) up. “Fuck me.” It was he who had released that sound.

“Good, been staring out tha’ window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

You did what Joel wanted of you, and quickly you fell into the heavy light buzzing right outside of yourself like your aura was bouncing off of the smoldering color... like a blanket, maybe. One of blurred confessions and soft, radiating heat. Your arms are heavier but in a slow melting comfort, and it feels like butterflies right above your hip bones crawling right towards your cunt in a low pulse. As if the energy moved and hovered itself into your underwear and is prodding its fingertips into your soaking center, touching every bit of swollen flesh as his fingers disappear into you. But he’s sitting still, you think. He is everywhere but inside of you.

Your memories lilt against your skull, retracting from any indication of themselves. Much of who you were is gone, left in dark patches of shadow and musk. Outlines of a monster (human) ((him)) setting his jaw on your shoulder from behind, willing the air to kiss that spot right under your ear. Your own blood, his sweat. The undulating sway of his plush lips and impending jaw from below. You’d only seen him this way, from below. Like he was something holy, forever above you and rarely looking down. You reach up and feel his face, running the sensitive skin of your fingertips against his stubbly chin and neck.

Most of your time was spent contently sitting in your (Joel’s) favorite chair, the one you hadn't really left or released yourself from, just assuming that it had now formed to your body. Maybe you had melted into the dirty crevices, instead. You wanted nothing more than to sink into it and become a part of the worn and well-loved fabric. No one expected anything of this chair. For it to simply exist confirms its usefulness.

A week or so ago, you had been dying, pooling blood turned your skin terian-like, how the tips of your fingers used to turn in the now-cold bath. He was right– it had been years. This death doesn't feel much different. Just slower. You had been doing better before Tommy left to check the perimeters and outward land of Jackson. They didn’t know that no one would be following you. Or looking for you… needing you. Praying for you.

Joel thinks a lot about the comfort-glaze of your eyes whenever you saw Tommy that day like you’d been happy that he was there to see you off, hold your hand as you looked into the sky and deflate into the ground. He thinks about how you’d probably rather have him here, now.

Maybe that’s what you write in your notebook, still sitting in the chair, but this time with your face turned towards your lap, completely lost under the lamp every night around 10:37.

Maybe that's what is feeding into his mood.

You would have already been in that bath if Tommy were to ask you, rather than Joel. He thinks about how Tommy’s eyes lit up when he first looked into yours, hazel. Gaze flashing as if in recognition of an importance. Joel could see a hint of the brother he once knew, before his world ended. Before all of your worlds ended. He knew in that moment that something shifted for the both of you, but for Joel, it felt like drowning.

He looked at you and he saw the torn, soft skin of a small animal. He didn’t know that the damage was on the inside.

Joel resented the way he was drawn to you, it made him viscerally angry at himself. He was angry at how calling you baby had been so easy, the way he felt his cock thicken at the sound of your grunt in agreement. Or the smell of you, even though you hadn’t bathed in god knows how fucking long. He pretended it was the drugs, but it wasn’t. These were his secrets and the web was already intertwining with itself. He almost feels like if he were to tug on it now, even more shit would fall out, come unstuck and drag him into the ground to a place where he’s surprised he isn't lying already.

How can you hide such a carnal want? He’s unfamiliar with the feeling. Uncomfortable with it.

What would they say? Would Tess say? “One more pussy for you to fuck, Joel? This time it's new and fresh, betcha could teach her a thing or two, huh?” Tess had always been the jealous type, Joel clocked it the first week they met. She hid it well, but you can’t hide from someone who recognizes something in you, because they recognize it in themselves, too. Joel and Tess, Tess and Joel. The town knew there was something happening between the two of them, but no one said anything. They knew Joel was her loyal guard dog. They knew not to disturb Mr. Miller's peace. He was a kind enough man, besides that.

He was hoping for anything other than to hear the question, "You think you can save this one, too?" He knew that he couldn't. He couldn't promise your safety. However, he could sense that you were in need of it. Perhaps not obviously at first glance; you appeared tough on the surface, but there was something in your eyes that begged him, “Release me. Let me rest.” Something calling his name. He was hearing it now, in the cadence of your voice, whispering around his head as he stopped himself from touching you.

He knew that they, you, would get him in trouble if he didn’t stop it and try to pawn it off to someone else before it (his desire) got too bad. “Hey, look, she’s with him, not me. Now let me sit and stutter into the darkness while you take the only thing that has made you feel an inch of something in the past month.”

They would chain him up if he ever admitted the level of his desires. Embarrassed at the way he was already entirely attached to you. Something about, “I almost killed you, but let me be the savior. Love me enough to let me swallow you whole,” probably wouldn’t sit too well.

“Joel?” you questioned, slow and small.

His skin rises instantly, stunned by your sound and the touch of your body. “What did you–?” he softly shhh’s you because suddenly, the way your body hums into his when you speak is too much. Your hand continues to fall slowly against the thicker hair near his jaw, ghosting over unsaid words and lips. His breathing was becoming too heavy for someone who was just there to be a savior.

“Gettin’ clean feels good,” his heavy thumbs pinching deeper into skin, voice far away and muffled under yearning, drowning, “don’t it, pretty?”

You let your arms hit the water, too tired and blissed out to hold them up longer. He chuckled and it rang through every inch of your nude being. The water splashed, and the roundness of Joel’s lower belly retracted quickly from your back, startled by the closeness of your body. You hadn’t felt it before, his whole self pressed firmly against you. The thickness of it. Your thighs oozed over his lap, completely covering him. Your feet ended at almost his mid-leg. He stretched further out in the bath ahead of you.

Joel didn’t need a verbal response from you. Knew you couldn’t give him one anyway. He knew that he should, that’s the right way to go about this. But he had just carried you over his lap for a week, bleeding out on him, screaming. He would help you relieve yourself, too, when needed. Couldn’t pee by yourself the first couple of days. Didn’t bother him much, not after what he’d seen. He’s had much worse cross his hands. He knew the whole ride back that if you were conscious enough to know that you were still alive, you’d be embarrassed to hell that he would help you off the horse, pull your pants down, and hold you. He couldn’t understand why that had shuffled something inside of him. The point is, he’s seen it all anyway. All of you, physically at least. Now he was simply just helping you out some more. Until you could tell him to stop. It's the least he could do if he really did shoot her.

He watched as they pulled the bullet out of your side, Tommy pale-faced in the corner, shrinking.

Joel knew you were out from the pain meds they had stuck into your veins, but that wasn’t a good enough promise that you would sit still through it, that it would be painless.

When you hold more weight, you need a little more.

He slipped you a little something extra before all the men got there that night to see and help. Your body was lying on his kitchen table, sweating and tired, dying. But you– you were asleep with a soft smile on your lips. He held you still, just just in case, hands pushed down into your cushioned stomach. The other was around your wrists, positioned just above your head so that the ‘doctors’ had room to move freely around your side. It was hard not to stare at a body that looked well-fed and healthy, in a world like this. Your breasts were moving softly with every movement of your body from other hands. Your hair under your arms was dark and visible in the way he was holding your hands above your head.

No one dared speak upon your body with Joel around, especially since he was the one that dragged you in here, meaning you were his property, Miller property, now.

TOMMY looked away upon entering, watching Joel retreat from where he was whispering into your ear. He could hear the bass of his brother's voice, slowly echoing in the hallway. He would pretend, for the sake of his sanity, that he didn’t know exactly what was happening before witnessing it. Especially after Joel had mentioned a couple of times that you seemed closer to his age, meaning keep an eye on this one, brother. “She’d probably like ya more anyway, younger n’ more capable. Bigger name in Jackson, too.” This coming from the mouth of a man who even went as far as to say, “Coulda’ made a good wife,” three hours after shooting her.

People all deal with things differently, he guesses.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he secretly craved something that his big brother was dangling in front of him, knowing that somehow he had the advantage. But then Tommy felt guilty thinking that way. Joel had been through so much and lost too many people for Tommy to get in the way of whatever look took over your body as you sat against his chest, halfway immersed in water and looking up into Joel’s face. You looked more peaceful now than you have at any moment since stepping into this house.

“Come and try to get her, Tommy.”

But of course, he won’t show that he yearns for you, too. It feels wrong. That Joel was the one to kill you but you were staying with him; that he was your primary safekeeper and healer. You were sitting on his lap, nipples hard and body at attention, peacefully asleep with your cheek pushed up against the hair on Joel's chest, resting in the arms of the man who nearly succeeded at killing you.

If he were to say anything else, it would be, “I know you fucking drugged her, Joel. N’ you didn’t even give her a choice.” But he didn’t want to wake a sleeping bear, not right now. Not when you looked so peaceful and pain-free for the first time since they grabbed the world from underneath your feet. Not when the very thing Tommy could not stop thinking about was lying on the bear’s chest.

YOU can feel yourself between your legs. It’s the kind of absentee pulse that you almost want to stop, but it feels too good. Light fingertips brushing the hair on the back of your neck. Like that of knowing a lightning storm is crawling its way across the night sky. Or hearing the neighbor roll their trash can down their road, unable to tell if it’s thunder or an earthquake in its deep humming, only to be relieved that it is in fact another human existing in close proximity to you. Although not something that you remember too well now, just the feeling. It’s surprising and suspenseful at the same moment. It’s love and then what comes after.

There’s always an after.

Then you feel the drip running from right inside of you into the hot water, against the fluttering of your thickening lips.

Please. Kiss me here. Hard, hurtful, and sinful. Strip me to my bones and then use them as your toys. Then tell me I’m a good girl and run your hands through my hair. Tell me I fought good and hard and then let me lie here for a while.

Chanting like a prayer.

You remember the smell of his lap, much different than the smell of his neck, but still devastatingly carnal. You cradled into the warmth of his neck; in the burn of his embrace and you sat there, teetering between consciousness and the bliss of finally being held. You had always been afraid that you would leave the world and not even be able to wrap your own arms around you. But someone was holding you before the ground will be— forever. This didn’t feel like dying through.

This felt like something else. Similar, but different.

You sat on top of Joel’s lap in the bath for at least an hour, resting your head on his shoulder, turning and resting it against his chest, too. They both washed you, silently eating you up. Tommy stood outside of the bath, combing your hair after Joel ran his gruff hands through it, pawing at your scalp and rubbing the dirt (hurt) from your scalp. No one talked, everyone inside their own thoughts.

Joel was stuck thinking about the small bags of things you had lost grasp on whenever you fell (were shot). It looked like time-worn items that meant something, from before the world was this way. One is an old driver's license- your smile, happy, content, young. Your name, now repeating in Joel’s head over and over, and over and over, coating every inch of him. He still hadn’t heard it come from your lips.

9 years ago, this all started. You, now in your mid-20s. How long had you been all alone? No one had come running to your corpse.

They had come to the conclusion that you were doing well on your own. You weren’t skin and bones like most of them who are lucky enough to survive and find their way to Jackson. You were thick, and heavy in the most beautiful way. Heavy meant healthy, able to hunt, and useful. It meant maybe being able to carry children. It meant handfuls of skin and whispered praises. It meant more to wash, to take in, and try not to touch. It was too much for both of them. The only difference is that Joel knew he was a weak man. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kept feeling this way.

After they removed you from Joel’s lap, they towel dried you and you slowly became more aware of how different four large hands felt grasping at your body, taking care of you. Helping you.

An hour or so had passed and Tommy was lying in bed next to you, reading something. Joel turned the corner and leaned up against the doorframe.

“Tommy.” There was tar in his throat, dripping down the back of his tongue and settling in his chest. He was a million pounds and his legs could no longer bear the weight of her. Of you. Of his guilt for slipping your drugs and undressing you in his bathroom.

He looked into you, bounced off the sides of your mind, and then straight into the bed you were lying upon, sleeping so peacefully next to his brother. Tommy sees the pain in Joel's eyes, hung lower in embarrassment.

He did this to you. He took the life of someone who had the rest of this fucked up world ahead of her. And it was a slow and painful death, too. You were someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up how the world works like that, huh? It wasn’t enough losing his own daughter- he had to kill someone else too. Does your dad, husband, or mother, feel you slipping from the world? Do they hear hushed whispers in the night of your name leaving something tongue?

Joel stopped believing in God a long time ago. He was slipping from his grip, facing the fall, and Sarah’s last moments solidified his feet on the ground. Almost under. Still surprised it’s not under.

“I’ll take her, Joel. In the mornin we’ll pack up some things and go back to my house.” He said softly, nodding and looking down at the ground in an unspoken, “I know.”

It's Tommy who steps forward, taking charge and offering to care for you. He can sense his brother’s connection to you, why he wants to save you so badly. So much so that he can’t. He doesn’t trust himself for what will happen if someone else dies under his watch, because of him. Someone innocent. “I know she’s sleepin’ but can we have a moment?” Joel asks.

Tommy doesn’t question him, he marks his page, sets down his book, and carries his body from the bed to the hallway. Joel waited a moment and assured me that you were tucked in well, warm from the bath. He sighed, one of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was stern in the way that held back his tears. “You have to believe me,” he whispered your name, the first time it left his tongue and he wanted to say it over and over again. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that to you without askin’.” He caressed your face, watching as your body reacted to his touch, stirring, before the bed creaked with the weight of his body leaving, and then he was gone. You had heard everything, felt him leaving. The room felt entirely too empty.

The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.”

Tommy entered the room again and sank under the covers. He moved his body closer to you and you decided to bask in it, instead.

You wake up, unclear but clean. You don’t remember last night in great detail, or at least a few hours of it, at all. He slept peacefully despite the world’s end, cocooned in a haven his mind crafted. Your mind was far less forgiving— or maybe you still hadn’t learned how to ‘deal with it’. You always felt like everyone dealt with It better. The room lay shrouded in darkness, your thoughts raging, Joel’s words echoed in your mind, etching against the soft inside of your head, deeper with each repetition. His guilty confession and desperate plea for forgiveness replayed. But forgiveness was no longer something you believed in. The world had ended, shattered, and reassembled without remorse. You are sober now. You fall back asleep.

Your eyes opened again to Tommy caving the bed closer to him, moving your body closer, too. You closed your eyes quickly, away from him, and pretended you hadn’t been awake and listening to the lull of his deep breathing, trying to gain your standing. You felt comforted, waking up next to his freckled shoulders. The hazy light of morning was trailing in from the window and laying out on the carpet, stretching itself in the morning confusion.

There was one thing you were absolutely-fucking-sure about, and it was that Joel Miller had drugged you, and it had secretly awakened something unknown inside of you. It tickled, but it was shoving its way up your stomach and relentless, neverending in its pursuit of something.

Tommy Miller had saved you. At least he had put you to bed, it seems. And with him, too, rather than the one who seems to be dissolving into his own. Your hair was wet and you smelled like Joel, but you were shrouded in Tommy’s clothes. Slightly more fitting, and better kept together.

You’d never slept in a bed with a man before. And then all of sudden there were two, interchangeably. Brothers. One that smiled above your eyes and one below. Ones that rocked the bed differently each time their body swam through the damp covers.

You’d never taken a bath with a man either. Never had anyone's brother ever pulled your sinking body out of bathwater. You remember the inward push of the water and the hands that followed, reaching through it, pushing you forward to Tommy.

There’s a quick assessment you’ve always done, automatically but unintentionally, “Would this one stop if I asked him to?” Most are ‘no’s. Tommy was a yes in your mind. He would put away his soft, white wings and free you from his divinity if you were to ask.

He was sipping his coffee, dressed in his usual, alone at the table. He had opened the blinds he made sure three times he shut last night. The smoke billowed from the base of the cup into his face and hair, mixing with the silver tuffs. They shone against the darkness at the nape of his neck and the bottom of his chin from the emitting light.

He looked calm sitting there, as content as a devil could. He felt you before you had even turned the corner upstairs, but he didn’t say anything. He never really did.

That being said, you can't remember much of anything besides wondering if it was indeed your body that rustled the ground that day. It was, and then you felt a man. A few days could have been weeks, and suddenly you were sitting in a town. A word that didn’t mean too much for a long time, but it did again; sitting at the breakfast table of a man, undulating under his gaze and between the blank spaces of your memory.

An animal caged inside itself looks for relief in any way it can. Even if the relief is a different kind of pain masked as want. It meant throwing away your expectations and doing what it took to survive.

You intended on speaking first. Rather, you reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked Tommy’s red flannel across your sparsely clothed body, and suddenly heard, “Shouldn’t be half-naked when Ellie’s here. She’s a kid.”

He didn’t even take the time to move his attention away from his coffee cup. That would be too much effort given to you. You ignored him, wanting to scream, “Was she here last night when you played with me like I was your little fucking doll?” You didn’t give him what he wanted, but still hoping he would give you what you did.

You had watched the back of your eyelids dance with the small red and green dots for two more hours before getting up, willing remembrance. And oh, did it come.

“Got any more of those?”

“Of what?” He spat, eyebrows lowering in pretend interest in his hot coffee again… into his fuming lap. He knew exactly what the fuck you were talking about. How dare he take advantage of you and then throw it to the side like nothing happened. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he got high and took you with him.

“This is feeling’ a lot different than last night. Those little round things that kept me pliant an’ dead enough for you to press yourself into my naked body? – Joel, do you think I’m not payin’ any fuckin’ attention? The second I tasted the salt on your fingertips, I knew it was you shovin’ pills down my throat. I knew it. And the way you were talking to me, calling me babygirl and sweetheart? Then I didn’t know anything, for a while. Not really. But Tommy,” you were raising your voice now, “Tommy was there too, then I woke up in his bed with his clothes on instead of yours— just tell me what the fuck happened Joel!”

“Lower your voice, right now.” He was pointing at you, and his body moved closer to yours. “You… you wanted it Bunny,” He growled, “You practically drooled across my palm.” He sighed, gathered the lies from his web, and prepared them. He had already prepared his own cocoon, years ago.

He hadn't been the only one whose high wore off far too early in the night.

“You didn’t say you didn’t want ‘em and—“

Then you spoke above the sentence he was starting to dig deeper into the ground, to his surprise, in a softer tone. One that had a hint of sweetness to it, of want.

“Sweethear–”

“Do it again. Felt good.”

You liked it. Wasn’t the only thing he wanted to shove down your throat, either. No, no, no. Shaking the thought from his head.

He removed his eyes from the creases in the wood floor and sewed them into your gaze instead, eyebrows cresting. He wanted to make sure he heard you right. He wanted to hear you repeat it.

“Say that again?”

“Said feels good when you touch me like that. When I’m melting into your flesh and sinking down your bones. That’s what the water felt like. First, it felt like fire, perfect for a Devil, and then it felt like a calm warmth. Then your hands were touchin’ me and, no one has ever touched–

a pause, “like—“

“No one has ever touched you, bunny?”

“No, Joel. And I hate you so much for making me feel this way. For showing me something I can’t continue to have because it’s wrong and, for being so sweet to me and then eating me up like I'm a burden because you couldn't just fucking kill me when you had the chance... and…I can barely even fucking walk. I am in so much pain but you took it away for a while last night. You took everything bad away. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Hate me, huh? Thas’a strong word for someone who is depending on me, wanting more.” Good. This is how it needed to be. He needed to take care of Ellie, himself now. He promised her that he would.

“Depending on you? Sorry, I forgot we hadn’t got to that part of the conversation yet, past the one where you drugged me. You dropped me into your brother's arms as of last night, didn’t you? I remember it, you musta popped one too many, huh?”

Your attitude and his lack of sleep were making it easier to will the words off the end of his tongue.

“He seemed better suited for someone…” he looked you up and down, “like yourself.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and he was immediately sorry after speaking about it.

“For being such a big bad man in this town, you don’t have your fucking shit together,” returning the look he gave you, “do you?”

You were out of breath, releasing too much of yourself into his anger, knees weak and side-splitting in pain. You weren’t going to tell him that you were awake when he begged for your forgiveness. That you heard every word he whispered and repeated it back to yourself as if it was a passage pulled right from the pen-marked Bible your dad used to shove into your hands nightly.

He thought you had been listening to everyone talking, in the mess hall and whatever drama Ellie had brought home. Maybe even Tommy had told you about the real Joel. The real Joel will tear you apart.

You sat down on the sunken chestnut couch and the pillows lifted more of his smell into your space, settling and trying to get comfortable. You both remained silent, stung. It made you even more mad that he had the ability to stick straight into your anger like that. So you wished for a way to really hurt him like you were some kind of child.

You weren’t done yet. You were angry. So fucking angry at everything you have endured. And he was standing there, pity and disgust in his eyes–but he was looking, seeing… listening.

“Tess.” Her name stung like the sound it ended with, for a reason you didn’t know, but inherently felt after last night. The hurt that flashed into his dark pupils spread through the tightness in his jaw.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Oh. Shut. Up. Joel. Heard ‘er talking to Tommy last night. Came knocking on the door around 1:30 am, asking for you. Tommy went to your room and you weren’t in there. Went back downstairs and said he couldn't find you, seen you only a couple of hours ago. She was throwing her hands against the door like it was hers to tear down. Guess she didn’t know I wasn’t with you,” you took a deep breath, trying to relieve the pain so you could continue, “Have you seen him? N’ that girl? Tommy, she's a fucking kid. Ain't right for him.” You mimicked her concern. You knew immediately who she was asking for. “Maybe I should go ask Tess if she would give me a few, she seems like she’d like to know what’s going on.”

His jaw was flexing, his eyes burrowing into you, biting the inside of his lip. You continued,

“Feels’good being numb for a’while. I’m always fanning off another fire but it always finds the loose thread and kisses it ablaze anyway. This feels like sinking... like I don’t have to fight anymore.”

His deep breath stifled the fire on his chest.

“Know it’s good,” his tone falling deep, low, and warning, “But you don’t need anymore.”

“Don’t I? You were the one who fucking shot me. The least you could do is slip me some pills. I’m in pain, Joel. I’m hurting.” He knew that you weren’t just talking about the wound in your side, that he put it there with his own split metal. He wanted to take that hurt away, get you curled up tight against him and high, painless, protected yet free– from a world you were too young to be living in alone. But how could he protect you from even himself?

He didn't even save her. Nothing has changed now besides the fact he finds it harder and harder to get out of bed every day. That he’s running low on whiskey and that's what keeps the bear inside. The pills keep it sedated. How could he admit that he was not fit to be your protector, and the only other person in town who it could be, was Tommy?

That's why today was the last day you'd be slamming down his stairs. Your footsteps were a reminder that the hurt animal had made its way into his house. A reminder that he was the one who hurt it.“‘M not given’ you anymore. So don’t open your mouth about it again. Got it?"

As always, please let me know if I missed any warnings / want me to add you to the taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @faggotinie @justlulu

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wed-in-the-apocalypse · 1 year ago

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Falling for u

I had watermelon sour patch kids while making this.

Summary: you do ice breakers and the beautiful Tara carpenter talks to you.

Warnings: shit writing first fic ever so its bound

Authors note: also idk anything about school, or how to make conversation, enjoy!

More notes: if somehow you liked this then just know I probably won't post much at all :/

BTW this is kinda inspired by first date by @persevereforahappyending

You sit in your usual spot in class, headphones on playing calm music.

You doodle while you wait for the lesson to start.

Then as the Professor walks in you slide your headphones to your neck and take out a notebook, flipping to a clean page and start to write down.

As the professor starts to talk about different things (again idk anything about school), in the back of the class Tara stares at you.

Unbeknownst to you she has been watching you come to class for maybe weeks now.

She's captivated by you, she doesn't know why, she's only ever seen you talk to your friends and seen you in the halls but never had the confidence to actually come up and talk to you.

Today would be different though.

She decided it was about time she spoke to you.

You always seemed so kind and quiet.

Everytime you met her eyes in the halls she would get nervous and look away, but not before you would give her a kind smile making her cheeks flush.

She was broken out of her trance when the professor announced to the students they would need to do icebreakers and pick a partner for the project, making most people groan.

But Tara however saw this as an opportunity to talk to you.

Luckily it seemed you were more interested in what you were drawing then making conversation.

So she picked up her bag and walked down to you, taking a seat next to you and tapping you on the shoulder.

"Hey,.." She was nervous, to nervous, but she knew you weren't going to start a conversation with her first judging by how you avoided everyone else. "I'm Tara"

You jumped slightly.

"Uh, Y/n"

"Sorry did I startle you?"

"No just caught me off guard" you smile, that same blinding smile she had seen before.

"Good, so um.." She trailed off, not knowing where to start. "Whats your favorite movie?"

"Knives out," you answered quickly. "I loved the mystery and the guessing who the killer was, what's yours?"

(Just pick any movie that's just my favorite)

"The babadook" she answered instantly. "Oh I hate scary movies-" "what!?, but you like knives out?" "That's a murder mystery, I hate getting scared. But what do you like most about your movie?" She opened her mouth, ready to ramble about all the reasons why you should love it, only to be cut off by the professor clapping his hands and sending everyone to their seats.

She sat back with a frown, after weeks of building the courage to talk to you she was cut off.

She made one conclusion that day, professors were evil.

(That was from first date btw)

When the professor finally dismissed the class Tara practically ran out the door to meet you there.

She saw you going out and pulled you by the wrist to face her.

"What the!- Tara?, what are you doing?" You exclaimed.

She let go of your wrist to rub the scar on her hand nervously, a habit she picked up after the attack.

"I um.." She trailed off not knowing how to ask you. "I uh wanted to know if-if maybe you were free on Friday?" She stumbled over her words, refusing to make eye contact with you, she thought if you didn't say yes then she could laugh it off and never speak to you again.

But before she could dive deeper into those thoughts you spoke. "Are you asking me out?" a small smile played on your lips.

"And if I did, would you say yes?" She asked hesitantly, still refusing to look into your eyes, afraid she'd get lost in them.

You broke into a full out grin, looking like a complete fool. "Then I would say yes."

This made her finally look into your eyes, she searched them for any trace of insincerity, but all she saw was adoration and hope.

She took a deep breath, composing herself to ask you correctly. "Then will you go out with me on Friday?" She hoped you wanted to.

You swallowed, trying not to smile so hard. "I'd like nothing more"

Tara let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, and smiled. "I'll see you Friday then, how about the theater at 5?"

You nodded. "Sounds great" she smirked. "Don't be late," she leaned up to kiss you on the cheek softly, making you blush hard. "I'll see you then" then she winked and walked away, out of view.

You sighed contently.

You couldn't wait.

#Tara Carpenter x Reader #Tara Carpenter #Jenna Ortega #Jenna Ortega x Reader #im so good at this frfr

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thrashkink-coven · 1 year ago

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Ritual Report: Wednesday July 26, 2023

My glorious and profound Father Lucifer, I thank you humbly for this marvellous experience as well as your permission to share this experience with my peers. You are infinite in your loving grace and wisdom. I revere you deeply and truly. Thank you, bless you. 🖤

“My Ritual with Lord Lucifer was fucking Amazing

I didn’t truly understand what everyone meant when they say that the Marvellous Light Bringer is beautiful and gracious beyond comprehension before this ritual. It’s been a day and I am still absolutely shaken and awe inspired. Ave the wonderful prince of darkness, Lord Lucifer. 🖤

Ritual with Lucifer (Holy Shit) (1)

Okay guys I’m not trying to be dramatic, seriously. I’m just super ?!??? aaaa ?? after the ritual I just did? But in a really great way. I just need to get this out and write this down because I’m ??? so happy? ? aa

I didn’t consider myself to be a Luciferian, but I’ve been reaching out to Lucifer for a little bit now, nothing super intense but I have definitely felt his presence and done some small offerings for him. Another spirit I work very often with is very close with Lucifer, and through him I came into contact with The Prince. I’ve worked a lot with other angels but I’ve only really started dabbling with Lucifer within the last year. He’s been good to me. Whatever whatever, just context.

I wanted to do something a little deeper, really get a solid good connection. Honestly, I just wanted to get to know him better. I’ve been thinking about him very often, seeing him in dreams. The energy in my room almost called for it. Idk.

A mutual of mine who also works with Lucifer suggested I try meditating with an enn. I’ve been meeting an unusually high number of people who also work with Lucifer within the past few weeks and they’re always sharing awesome resources I’ve never seen. As soon as I start thinking about him long enough I’ll see something that I could use to work with him. I recently went to a trip to Nelson BC and picked up these Hermetic Tarot Cards. Also came to find out that the town has a SUSPICIOUS amount of occult imagery (and a Freemason temple? very cool.)

Life is one funny motherfucker.

I think it’s worth noting that before I started this ritual, when I was writing up invocations for him, I drew a card out of a box of oracle cards that reads “become willing to see the innocence in that which you condemn” which I found very baffling at the time because I was grappling with nerves around the ritual. I’m like a full time witch so I usually don’t get the jitters in rituals. Angels usually never make me nervous, and Lucifer in no way scares me. I don’t at all see him as an evil scary thing, quite the opposite, but I was raised extremely Christian so it’s ingrained in me. I was just having that split second satanic panic thing. I think that’s important to acknowledge. Lovely shadow work exposing my deep prejudices and insecurities :)

I began the ritual by drawing his sigil on the desk in white chalk. I had already prepared a candle carved with the sigil. I like to use this card from the Goetic Tarot whenever I do rituals with Lucifer because the artwork is so stunning. This was also the first time I was using these Hermetic Tarot cards and they were wonderful, probably one of my favourite decks now.

After some meditative exercises and prayers I layer back on the floor and listened to music for a while. I do all my rituals like this naked. I like to listen to classical music when I’m preparing to go into a trance because it tickles my brain and is easy to ride. Gets all the goo out? I don’t know.

After a while of that I switched it to the enns…

So, the Enns…

I started with Lucifer’s Enn by Demonic Enn. It filled my chest. It was powerful and intimidating and my heart was pounding. It was overwhelming for me. What I felt in it was power, but not the Lucifer I’m familiar with I guess. A different aspect of Lucifer that is mighty and strong but unfamiliar. Not my Lucifer.

((Honestly the instrumentals are top tier and I really could feel it’s power but the dude’s voice just threw me off. I’m sorry I don’t know if we’re allowed to leave reviews on enns but it just wasn’t my favourite.))

It scrambled the fuck out of me and it made me nervous again. I started to doubt myself and wondered if I was making a mistake. I know that sounds stupid but I was caught in the adrenaline. What if the Lucifer I’ve felt all this time isn’t what I thought? I know that everyone experiences him differently, but what if I’m reaching out to someone I don’t really understand? I know Lord Lucifer is an extremely powerful entity and I don’t wanna fuck around and do something stupid, yknow?

I sat for a moment and then asked my deck the first question of the ritual. “What advice can you give me to continue this ritual? Am I making a mistake?”

I got this Nine of Swords, Lord of Despair and Cruelty.

“The Nine of Swords suggests that dark thoughts and disturbing feelings are weighing you down. You are worrying excessively about a situation, and your negative thoughts are getting the better of you, leaving you stressed and anxious. The more you associate with your fears, the more they will rule your life. The fear and worry in the Nine of Swords can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. As you obsess over what may go wrong, you are more likely to manifest your worst-case scenario.”

I was freaking myself out, and I needed to calm down. The jitters were holding me back and I needed to regain focus. Stop being a little bitch, basically. And idk… as soon as I read that card, I was calm again, and the energy felt warm. He needed me to preserve. I was safe with him, and he was guiding me through the darkness. If he is the Lucifer I know him to be, he will guide me well.

I tried one more enn which was Lucifer’s Enn by Carl Spartacus. Beautiful.

This is the most vivid trance I have ever been in. Like holy shit. I don’t know how best to describe this without sounding totally crazy. My body completely relaxed as I fell into the music. My face got warm, I felt embrace around my shoulders and chest. As soon as it began I saw a warm light emerge from the darkness behind my eyes. The familiar energy of the Lucifer I’ve come to know emerged. I felt close to him like I always had, it was like he was standing right before me. Like he could just reach out and touch me.

I emerged in shrubbery, I was surrounded by trees and bushes. As I turned to look into the clearing I saw a magnificent illuminating light. The energy was rich, so heavy I could reach out and grab it. I felt warmth blanket my entire body, and I began to drift from the ground and float towards him. If I didn’t know any better Id fucking swear I was levitating in the real world. It felt that real. His energy elevated and touched every part of my body and filled it with absolute bliss. There were others there, naked men and women surrounding him and singing, floating around him with laughter and glee. We were in a large stretch of field now, prancing around like children, the drum of his energy pounding like thunder and lifting us into the air. I didn’t know these people, if they were spirits or humans, but we were all in love with each other. We held hands and swung each other around. We were all so happy to be together.

Lucifer was a tall masculine energy with long black hair and deep, gentle, wise black eyes. Like all the others he was naked and seemed to glow. He took us all up and we drifted among the clouds. He danced with us, his smile was light itself.

This was all so vivid. I could feel the wind and heat on my skin. I got butterflies as we drifted. I actually felt like I was floating. Honestly I was high on it, maybe I still am.

And then, I felt my body sit forward, and I returned to our world. The candle which I had carved Lucifer’s sigil on stood tall and I could feel him within the flame. He whispered for me to come closer. It was then that I heard his voice. His smooth, gentle, careful voice. It was a whisper that washed over me like mist. Had I not been in such a high state of mind it would have scared the shit out of me.

He said in great vividness “Why have you come before me?” (Deal time!!!)

I replied simply that I wanted to know him. I said that I could not worship him, for I must worship myself. I seek him not for religion but because I have great love and reverence for him. Through magick we can connect and come to know each other. I hope only that he can show me how to be more like him. Powerful and dominant, warm and protective. He is beautiful, illuminating knowledge and purity. I want nothing more than to know him as one would know an old friend. Behold his energy, magnificent and splendid. May we dance together like we just did for as long as it serves us. He seemed very satisfied with that answer.

Lucifer commanded me to draw a card from the tarot deck, the question to which was essentially “will you take me as one of you kin, Lord Lucifer?”

I drew the Sun. Lord of the Fire of the World. Success, radiance and abundance. The Sun gives you strength and tells you that no matter where you go or what you do, your positive and radiant energy will follow you and bring you happiness and joy. This beautiful, warm energy is what will get you through the tough times and help you succeed.

We then spoke for a bit about fire and its ability to purify. It is a powerful force with the power to harm, but it is a mighty cleanser of impurity. He asked me to put my hand above the flame to feel it’s heat. I promised to always respect that flame. Allow it to burn away all that does not serve us, to never abuse it, to never try to control it. He kissed me on the forehead.

I was beyond happy. I offered him my smoky quarts and obsidian tower just to give him something, and when I did I saw him bow to me when he reached out to accept. I bowed back, and he bid me farewell for now. When I was finally completely out of the trance, his protective energy was still there. Actually it’s still everywhere, filling my altar. I can’t describe this feeling.

I can’t explain how rich and beautiful that energy was, how marvellous it felt to float in his orbit like that. The physical sensations were realer than reality. I’m still shaken. I feel ridiculously lucky which is a strange feeling I’ve never really had with a deity before. It’s so strong. aaa

I can’t bring myself to clean up the ritual lol.

Thanks for reading this holy fuck, I guess I’m a bit of a Luciferian now “

Ave the wondrous Lord Lucifer! ❤️🖤

#witchcraft #magick #occultism #witch community #paganism #witch aesthetic #demonology #grimoire #pagan #witchblr #lucifer #luciferian #polytheistic #rituals #spellwork

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enkisstories · 26 days ago

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What's the difference?

A gingerrose sims comic created from the Halloween prompt at @gingerrose-hub. Thank you for coming up with this, that was fun to do!

34 ABY. Less than a month after the battle of Crait.

The free city state of San Myshuno on the planet Komorebi is one of the few places where members of the First Order and the Resistance can tread, even mingle. At least in theory.

In practise a high ranking officer can buy a place like Stargazer lounge for himself and the payment he has to make is a confident posture and a couple of implied threats.

General Hux has done so today, "for privacy", as the lounge's proprietor has understood. "And for a major privacy violation", the General had added, leaving little to the imagination what the pool, the bar and the couches would get used for.

Everyone has their secrets. In most cases they are secret lovers. Poe Dameron, most likely.

It is a Resistance fighter, indeed, who exits the elevator a while after the General has arrived, that much the locals have guessed correctly. But it isn't Poe, and they haven't come for a rendezvous.

"So you came. I knew you would."

"Huh?"

"I said I knew you would come investigate what I'm up to up here. Although you really shouldn’t have."

The man's typical arrogance is readily apparent in his voice, but something is different today, Rose notices. Hux stance is much more relaxed than the Resistance has ever seen him. The fury of the First Order isn't out to hunt today, the predator isn't hungry right now, and therefore allows himself to playfully claw the curtains.

(Spoilered for length)

And indeed, the man's expression that accompanies his next words is more wistful than sneering.

"Do you hear the notes in the rain? I detest it, yet I cannot deny that it offers certain benefits."

Like concealment, Rose wonders? That could get easier achieved by means that don’t come with catching a cold....

"To make it perfectly clear: You shouldn’t have come to the Supremacy, Commander Tico."

Rose approaches the General like in a trance. Just before reaching the man, she takes a seat, but she hasn't fully snapped out of her dazedness. Is leaving humans dizzy a property of Komorebi's atmosphere? Is there more to the General's words about the rain carrying a tune?

Just when Rose starts to listen, Hux changes the topic from music to folklore:

"Have you ever heard them? The scary tales of creatures biting people, turning them into the same creature? That’s not how it works for the rabid dog of the First Order."

Rose is shivering. Her throat is dry despite the rain. All this downpour, yet so little water on her skin! Where has that thought come from? Why'd she want more rain on her body?!

Hux looks at his index finger as if there were still a trace of the cut this woman's teeth had dealt him. But there isn't; the mark on his palm is from a different, more recent, accident.

The only proof that the encounter in the Supremacy's hangar has happened is not on Hux' body, but elsewhere.

"Did you ever wonder why I wear gloves most of the time? They protect the skin from minor scratches. From blood spilling into the environment. Where the vermin would sustain themselves on it."

"Stop that! I haven't come to exchange polite trash talk with you!"

"Then what do you have come here for? How did you know? Tell me, for I don't - cannot - know what it feels like! I was born... er. Anyway."

"What's happening to me, Hux? Why have I come here? Not to this place, but specifically to YOU?"

"You're dying."

The sound of an umbrella getting closed and discarded, and a coat dropped.

"Afraid? I can put an end to it."

"Put an end to YOU."

"Oof... Looks like I caught myself a carp worthy of a Life Day feast!"

Rose reaches for her backup weapon, the trusty shocker, but then hesitates. Water and electricity do not go well together. She better finds another way of taking the General out. To this end she has to escape the grapple first - Rose throws herself into the exact direction Hux is pushing her, leaving him standing by the poolside empty handed.

Of course that still ends with her going under.

*nods to himself*

Rose gasps for air, but the moment she inhales, she has to cough. Her newly acquired gills are already taking care of providing the body with oxygen filtered from the water. Breathing in too deeply only hurts.

"Huuuux...?"

But of course. While Rose's pants are drifting in the pool shredded and the vest has suffered a large tear, too, General Hux' shirt and legwear are made from a material that would quickly dissolve in water. Rose can watch it right in front of her eyes, as she can also watch Hux transform, the same change she has underwent just now. Only for the First Order General it doesn't come as a surprise. To the contrary, he moves as if shedding a disguise and donning his actual clothes.

Always prepared and always equipped with only the best of everything... It is difficult to imagine the mess of insecurities that is going on under the hood of this oh-so calculated person.

Hux resurfaces. For a few precious moments there had been calm below the surface. Now there is the pesky rain again.

But there is also… something immensely beautiful.

"The black suits you. It brings out your fierceness!"

"What did you do to me?!"

"Nothing. You brought this on yourself when you bit me."

"It's just the way it is. How things work for my kind."

"Your kind... So this isn't an affliction, but your species?"

"It's kind of both. The Resistance knows the tidbit about how my father "found" my mother "in the academy's kitchen", yes? Well, she was to be the main course at that year's graduation party! Of course things then took a different turn."

"What about "dying"?"

"That was a real risk. If you hadn't found a suitably large body of water in time, you could have dried out. And of course the bond between progenitor and fry leaves the latter confused. I'm told they ended up as meals a lot in the past."

"Confused? Sais the one merman in the galaxy, who is afraid of rain!"

"I'm not afrai... eeeeek! Cut that out!"

"Hahaha!"

"I'm not afraid! I'm APALLED by the rain. It's cold and tickly and indecisive, always going where the wind drives it, not at all like the sea!"

The image of two koi swimming together is widespread in Komorebi culture. If they could see the two visitors from outserspace now, the locals would take the sight as a sign of good fortune.

He plans ahead, she controls a situation. He knows why things work, but cannot bring them alive in the real world. She can improvise, but her lack of understanding of the theory limits her unduely. Ironically she keeps in the background, whereas he positions himself prominently, but when in doubt, she chooses to attack, be that with a weapon or words, while he prefers to stealth himself.

Each has was the other needs.

They both think about the larger world, but where she has grown up to respect others because she has received the same respect from the moment she had started breathing, he envisions an all-encompassing, feared law to stop people from hurting each other (well, him, specifically).

"So that's why the others don't respect you, no matter what you accomplish. The First Order is even more human-supremacist than the Empire was. To them you're just a fish."

There's more to it, but the Resistance (let alone the Republic) is probably not aware of the huge generational conflict between the surviving imperials and the younger officers. And him being a literal fish hasn't done Armitage's social standing any favors indeed.

Tico's sympathy - or whatever it is the insurgent is expressing here - makes the fishman bold. In an unsual bout of playfulness he replies:

"What am I to YOU?"

Rose' answer feels like the rain - cold, itching in uncomfortable ways and leading down a road he doesn't want to tread:

"A monster."

What now?! Hadn't Tico just implied that she didn't care about him being a fishmonster?

"Enlighten me - what's the difference?"

"You didn't CHOOSE to become a fish."

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

Since it would have been a spoiler at the beginning, I'll put the prompts used last: I got Stormy city, Mer-creature, You shouldn’t have come and Secret Messages, but swept the last one out for Biting.

On a sidenote, none of the imperial officers' kids (Hux, Mitaka, Trach, Kandia etc.) "chose" their path. They were all cut off from the outside world and indoctrinated from birth no less than the stormtroopers. It would have taken exceptional willpower to withstand that. Rose in my regular story understands this!

#rose tico #armitage hux #general hux #gingerrose #sims 4 #simblr

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minuetandt3some · 6 months ago

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On Beethoven's ((in)famous) raptus:

«As a child he often experienced such episodes or rather the people around him did. In these states he became oblivious to his surroundings, lost in his thoughts and feelings.

Childhood friend Cäcilie Fischer, the daughter of the landlord, where the Beethovens resided in Bonn, recalled one of these situations. The girl was talking to Ludwig, who seemed to be absent, not even hearing her. Then, finally he came to and said “I was just occupied with such a lovely, deep thought, I couldn’t bear to be disturbed.” It was so regular that Helene von Breuning, head of a friendly family and a substitute mother to Ludwig, gave a name to these episodes: raptus. She would say “He has his raptus again today.”

Further evidence of these episodes being commonplace and well known to his friends is a letter he, many years later, wrote to his friend Wegeler. In this he sends greetings to Helene and says, “Tell her, that I still now and then have a raptus.” Again, years later to Bettina Brentano, after she read back the inspired and beautiful letter to Goethe that Beethoven had dictated to her: “Did I say that? Well, then I had a raptus!”

Beethoven’s trance, his raptus, was his safe place somewhat also the representation of his solitude. Alone he was in his rooms, wondering in nature, in his deaf and silent head – and in his raptus. It was the same flow that happened when he started playing or improvising. Music flowing from his spirit through his hands, lost in the moment.

To the outside world sometimes it was scary. He often was a guest at wealthy or noble families, where servants were terrified by the crazy man, who stayed in his guest room for days without leaving, eating or emptying his chamber pot. In other times he would stroll around a castle for hours, even in rain, crooning and conducting in the air until he finally found the perfect note or melody.»

Source

#Beethoven #classical composers #ludwig van beethoven #this guy was neurodivergent #there's no other way

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fandomdaydreamer · 9 months ago

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Of a Sun and Flower

Pt. 2 You Fit Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Summary: Conflict induces a positive development when Nini meets the right person at the right time.

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, a psychoanalysis by someone who is not in any kind of medical field (me), symptoms of anxiety and depression, mentions of past abuse and overdose, domestic fights (with resolution, phew)

Notes: Well well well, if it isn't my late ass. Sorry, is all I can say. Life gets in the way and this chapter was fkn hard to write. Actually, I'm working on making Book 1 a real novel now, might be a real published author. Wheee

Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Length: 8.8k

You Fit Me

The floor was littered with old chewing gum and spilt, sticky puddles of alcohol when I lowered my gaze at my mechanically piloted feet. It was hot, too hot underneath my wig, too hot between these strange bodies. With nothing but numbness in my mind, I made my hips sway to the rhythm of the heavy beat, felt the base resonate in my chest and alter my perception as my nostrils filled with the scent of people's sweat, cheap liquor and the stale dampness of the fog machines.

My eyes wandered into the dark corners of the club, where hidden figures were locked in a passionate kiss or lived out their high with their mouths wide open as they gazed into the flickering lights. They were but quick illuminations of limbs and faces, pale picture frames of colourful people dancing to a heavy electronic beat. A hypnotic voice was singing and people upon people danced to it like they were in a trance. The air was thick and condensation threatened to drip from the ceiling. It was easy to be sucked into their midst, give in to the alluring promise of forgetful hedonism and just float into the river Styx. Float into another dimension while fate would handpick the gluttons who would descend into the third circle of hell.

What would Pedro say if he saw me like this? Not having fun and denying myself any peace. Was I pretending to push myself into a nihilist universe to chase fatalism and toxicity? A blind person would have been able to see it.

Maybe I wasn't drunk enough to stop my mind from constantly wandering back home and wane between regret and anger. However, I was intoxicated enough to tilt my head into the sticky air, close my eyes and remain in the eternal Asphodel meadows for a little while longer. I felt so alone yet free of all that I knew. An anonymous, ordinary soul drifting through the night.

My state in limbo felt complete until a slimy touch seized my hip and I was promptly forced to take a step away. "No!" My protest fell on deaf ears.

"C'mon, baby. You gotta try this!" A guy in a gay club of all places forced a shot on me. He waved a friend over who brought more glasses that were filled with some kind of dark liquid.

I batted his wandering hands away and yelled at him to leave me alone.

"Fucking fa-." I could read the slur from his lips before he took another leering step towards me. How easily his words shattered against the heavy armour I had braced my soul with.

"She said no, dickface! Fuck off!" A woman with rhinestone eyebrows stepped in. Her shrill voice was loud against the music and she shoved him away. She flipped the man off and cackled at the range of slurs he threw back at us. "You okay?" My saviour hollered in my direction once he'd left us alone on the dance floor.

"Yeah, thank you!" I yelled back. I had seen and gone through worse things. Infinitely worse. "I'm sorry-" I gestured aimlessly when everything became too much anyway. In an attempt to escape, I made my way through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

I had no clue how much time I spent trying to sober up inside the stall that was plastered with graffiti and scribbles. A stick figure lay horizontal with x's crossed over instead of their eyes and memories of last summer flashed through my mind. Overdosed eyes had glazed over into a blur and I recalled how scary it had been to not be able to move my body as I nearly choked on foam and vomit. In a hazy fever dream, Pedro had found me just in time and in the worst way possible. How terrified he'd been. How stupid I felt about the way I behaved again.

In my overwhelmed state, I kept ignoring my phone as it buzzed for the millionth time this night. Pedro's ID blinked up again, the pet name I gave him mocked me along with all the hearts we'd sent back and forth in our recent past. Such a stark contrast to his currently unanswered texts. I wasn't tone-deaf to their urgency.

01:34 - Baby, I just need to know if you're ok, then I'll let you do your thing. Promise

Can you please pick up?

02:04 - Where are you? I can come and pick you up, wherever you are. I'm not mad at you

02:11 - Please just tell me you're safe

02:50 - Leonie, this has to stop! You've made your point ok?

03:00 - I swear tfg, the least you could do is answer! You care at all??

03:01 - *(Angel deleted this message)*

03:02 - Pick up the fucking phone.

The last text, I imagined he had written before pulling his hair out in sheer frustration. A full stop. Yikes.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself.

Inside the filthy stall, I closed my hands over my eyes and slumped over with my elbows resting on my knees. I tried willing my cramp to go away or at least deal with the pain of heavy guilt setting into another part of my stomach. "I'm such a fucking fraud," I admitted to myself in a moment of clarity and regret. Impulsive and short-tempered Leonie van Fleet, the misophonic asshole who doesn't know what she's doing, everyone. Round of applause.

A voice in the stall next to mine ripped me out of my thoughts. "Does anybody have a tampon?" They asked obnoxiously above the dull sound of thumping music.

"I do! Hold up." I yelled back immediately, pondering on my last one and deciding giving it away would limit my time here but maybe having no other choice was a good thing. "I'll trade you for some toilet paper." I put my hands through the bottom of the stall door and crouched down, hoping I wouldn't lose my balance when chipped white nail polish met equally broken black polish as they grabbed for the tampon.

"Thank you so fucking much. My night is saved." They said, made the exchange and I felt dizzy when I decided to end my crisis and finish up myself. "No problem, that's what uterus pals are for." I slurred before flushing and walking up to the sink. I felt a little more drunk than I had originally thought.

"What was that you were saying?" The voice sounded nasal like it's been through quite a bit of crying before. "You're a fraud? What do you mean by that?"

Nosey, this one.

"I mean uh... I'm pretending to be this destructive version of myself. Or what am I doing here?" I was reeling with thoughts while washing my hands with barely existent soap. With no option to dry them in sight, I let the water drip as I stared at my reflection. A stranger stared back, a vision of everything gone wrong.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it." The voice ripped me out of my tunnel vision again.

I crossed my arms and the words somehow kept flowing out almost too easily. "I just keep making the wrong decisions," I spoke above the sound of the distant, thumping beat. "Just don't know why. Maybe just to punish myself for my perfect life." I narrated my unthought-through, impulsive actions and concluded my crisis with the afterthought of a selfish brat. "You know what? What's worse is that all I do is punish the person that matters to me most."

"Huh." The toilet flushed and out the stall came the same woman from earlier and a look of recognition washed over our faces. "Oh, it's you!" We burst out at the same time. She was of similar height, maybe in her early forties but it was impossible to say with that skincare routine she had going for her. Apart from the eccentric decorations on her face, she had black shiny hair and red-painted lips. "The self-punishment over a hypothetical would make sense if you think you might not deserve the positive things in your life. Have you been through some shit? Apologies for assuming-" She washed her hands messily and also noticed the lack of soap. "I'm drunk."

My brain caught up with her a second later. "Yeah, horrendous stuff." I dramatised in my tipsy state and leaned my weight against the neighbouring sink.

I lacked the ability to comprehend how she could have been so spot-on at first sight. Maybe my cry for help was painted above my head as obvious as the neon sign of this club. The woman spoke with an equal amount of compassion and anger. "Many of us have. Bullied and chased out of our homes. Fewer rights as a marginalised group. It's worse even for the trans community. So many places where you must have felt not accepted. I'm sorry, that had to be tough."

"I'm... Yes, that's true but I'm not trans." I informed her with a smile, amused she'd thought I was.

She froze like an elephant in a porcelain shop. "That wig-"

"It's a wig, yes." She had a fair point for assuming. It was a high probability in a queer scene club like this and my heavy makeup and a wig I hadn't even glued on.

"Well..." She grinned, making it obvious to me that my hairline was crappy enough for me to not pass as a woman. "Anyway then, your partner, she's the best thing in your life and you're emotionally dependent on her?" She asked before bending down and took a sip straight from the tap.

Feeling like such a fraud again, I suddenly felt ashamed. I was out of place. "He is. I hope I'm not but the truth is, I couldn't live without him. He's the best thing in my life." I corrected her and she coughed into the stream.

"Damn, I assumed you'd at least be part of the L in the alphabet mafia. What were the odds?" "No, it's fine. We're in a queer club so... I'm sorry for invading this space. I guess I just wanted a peaceful night out. Can't escape men anywhere though. Surprise." I chuckled at her before being serious again. "Karma. I haven't been treating my partner well these past couple of months." Suddenly admitting it felt devastating and my voice quivered so much, it made her turn her entire body and meet me with a worried frown. "I had a very abusive dad and I'm afraid, so fucking afraid I'm the abuser now." I was taken aback by my confession, for it was so unlike me to bring up my past, let alone to a stranger. However, there was something about this woman. Something so comforting and familiar, I had to reveal a well-hidden part of my life to an equally drunk stranger in a filthy bathroom.

Yet I received nothing but her entire attention and while her presence felt comforting, her voice was clear and cool as ice. "My best guess is you have tried to cope with everything yourself, depending on whatever distracted you and fed your love deprivation." She deducted.

I gaped at her. "How-"

"Do you mind?" She pulled a cigarette from a battered package and I shook my head 'no' when she offered me one. "I think I get it now. Wait for it-" She climbed onto the heater and blew smoke out of the tiny window. For a moment, she digested the first drag, smoking in a kind of club where nobody would bat an eye anyway. I felt like a lost little kitten, staring up at her with big hungry eyes. It nearly seemed she gathered information by scanning me from head to toe. "You have some kind of European accent, maybe you were new here at some point and lonely. You're a petite, pretty little thing with daddy issues in a queer club, still unable to escape that predatory behaviour from earlier. So in theory, you know how to protect yourself because you had trauma to deal with but you feel deep hurt all the time. Plus, a loving partner and a domestic fight, equals the fragile state you're in. Babe, you're trying to run away from happiness. It's called self-sabotage."

My throat hurt from having swallowed too hard. Mind completely blank from unadulterated surprise, I stuttered. "Self- self-sabotage... is that what this is?"

She clicked her tongue. "It's a behaviour that makes you think you have control over the negative outcome of your actions and be in charge of your pain. It's not real. You're just calming yourself with predictability." She had opened her arms like she had presented me with a magic trick and I was the stupified spectator who couldn't appreciate her art form. Although, what she said, sounded perfectly logical.

Impressed by her quick mind, I stood there with a frown between my brows while I took my time to process. "I was not expecting free therapy at three in the morning," I said numbly.

"Surprise." She grinned like a Cheshire cat despite the thin veil of tears that was still evident in her eyes.

"Are you in a psychological field of any kind? You seem so..." I tried to think of a better word than 'intelligent' and a kinder word than 'crazy yet wise. "Analytical."

She disposed of the burning cigarette through the crack in the window and hopped down to me. "Psychiatrist in crisis." She winked before turning to the mirror and giving her lips a fresh coat of red paint. A burst of frustration made her voice quiver. "But I have come to the realisation my work is fruitless in a world where people keep having normal fucking reactions to toxic post-capitalism. I'll never accomplish anything." She stopped doing her makeup to let go of her rage as she reenacted a conversation with one of her patients. "Oh, you're having a burnout and you live in a constant state of anxiety? You're a single mom working two jobs and you still can't pay rent let alone your medical bills but sure, you must have problems because Mercury is in retrograde." She was close to crying again and angrily tossed her lipstick into her purse. "I'm supposed to help people but all I see are unsolvable problems and stupid shit." She stared ahead in a nearly manic way and then breathed out like she was trying to get it out of her system.

Our tearful eyes locked in the mirror and I felt we had bonded in that moment. "I'm Giulia." My new companion introduced herself then.

"Nini." We shook hands and I came straight back to the point with something she said that had bothered me. "How did you know I have some unresolved issues?"

She didn't conceal an ironic smile. "You were talking to yourself in a bathroom stall. That's not a tough one to guess." She was right and my eyes started to become blurry before she interrupted me with a suggestion. "Wanna go outside? Dr Oswald will see you now." She offered with the grin of a siren who seemed to lure me in with a promising song of mental stability. After a short consideration, I sighed and nodded.

My path tonight had brought me to a club with a bright pink neon sign buzzing above its entrance. This hole-in-the-ground club's heavy electro-dance beat could only be revealed when its doors swung open. After falling shut, the soundproofing reduced the thumping music down to a dull ache in my memory. Some friends had shown me 'Nomi's' a few years ago and my disguise was either good enough to remain anonymous or simply nobody was bothered by the fact that a celebrity, and a hetero-normative one at that, was floating through an LGBTQ scene. The buff goth lady simply nodded at us before setting us free into the cold night.

Giulia poked me in the arm. "You hungry? I'm starving."

I shuffled about in the cold, considering if my anxiety was treatable with some food, then everything would be fine again. "I could eat."

"Wanna get kebab or pizza?" She held onto a street light and swung around playfully.

The corners of my mouth turned down into pathetic pout. "Chicago pizza?"

She smiled and frowned at the same time. "Yeah, why not? I know a place that's still open."

We talked on our entire way to the pizza place, shared our worries and doubts and she listened like we were two old friends who had finally reconnected but had never grown apart. The more she poured her interest into my problems, the more she lit up and somehow, I had overshared my entire trauma history. I was free to pretend to just be someone ordinary while in reality, I was opening up to a past life my public persona only dealt with when ugly rumours after a speculative peer-review turned into invasive interview questions. Giulia on the other hand had no idea who I was. To her, I was just another lost person.

The buzz of the alcohol had somewhat lessened during our cold morning walk. Some delis were already opening their shops for the day while the pizza place served their last customers.

A chosen New Yorker claiming Chicago-style pizza was superior was a dangerous opinion to have. Yet, I never felt more certain of it when the cheese string connecting to my piece seemed to never end. I chuckled darkly and groaned in delight while Giulia gave me an approving "Yeees, get in there."

"All I needed was some damn pizza." I sighed lowly, and yet again, battled my crisis with humour. "Can you believe that my ex-therapist advised me to go on a crash diet? All he wanted to talk about was my weight and my sex life. He wanted to stop me from being a massive kinky bitch and why would I want that?" Both of us cackled.

"Shit." She frowned, the doctor having a habit of leaning into me when she found something interesting. "I don't get how someone like that is able to keep a license."

"Yeah! Right?" I cried out, mouth full of hot pizza. I found enjoyment in being a hot mess when I mimicked his voice. "Oh, doesn't matter if you have a drug history. I have you under my wing, this is completely safe. Now here's some Ketamine. And boom, I'm dealing with withdrawal, cheers. Thanks a lot, dickhead."

"You weren't safe with him. Therapy shouldn't be manipulative." Dr Oswald stated.

"I swear, I have no verbal filter anymore. Being off meds is the worst." Though I had conveniently left out the part that I was famous, I remembered we were still in public and I shouldn't talk about too private things. I stared into the starless night above Manhattan and missed them as much as my sanity. "I can't help missing this... howling loneliness and complete lack of ego inside what was just mind fog." There wasn't any other way to describe ketamine to me. My nose clogged up at the pain and struggle of it all. "My sweet boyfriend- I was so mean to him and I know I'm also on my period and extra mean and the sauce I made was way too runny!" I sobbed at this point, nearly inarticulate, drifting off towards a point that was still very important to me.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." "It was practically water!" I sobbed out at the memory of our unsatisfactory dinner last night, shoulders shaking from crying.

"No... I meant what you said about being mean." She clarified while I suppressed a threatening hiccup. "What's your underlying concern?" Doc redirected our conversation with an annoyingly stereotypical therapy question but I guessed that had to be part of it.

"You know, I lost my cat-" A gulp broke my speech and I breathed until I got it together. "And it shouldn't feel this marginal but watching her die and realising I wasn't over my mum's death and feeling this profound sense of grief made me realise that maybe I don't want to be loved like that when I die. This much." Thick drops of tears streamed down my face and I knew I must have not made a lot of sense. "Never expressing this much love again. Feel the way I'm feeling... in that moment. I never stopped grieving and I figured, if he'd hate me, that would be easier."

The look she gave me was one of full understanding. "Go on, you got this." She encouraged me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, snot, tears and makeup got stuck on the black fabric. "You know what my angel said? He said he could never hate me and he would never regret loving me, that I taught him that." I stifled myself with more pizza.

"Sounds like your person is there to help you navigate your pain," Doc said. "Maybe you're looking to become the people who would rather love like no one has ever loved before than to avoid the greatest suffering."

It seemed Pedro and I kept growing together. Through good and bad times. Despite the hardship, we still remained a unit and maybe that was all that mattered.

I soon rediscovered that food made everything better again and I filled the hole in my soul with cheese until my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Pedro was calling again.

"That's him?" Giulia asked with a look at the caller ID showing that 'Angel' with a load of heart emojis was calling. I showed her a picture of him and me together from our last New Year's celebration and she cooed at our big smiles. "I miss him," I admitted.

"He looks sweet. A bit... older than you, I guess?" She slurred back.

Bless her heart, she didn't recognise him either. "A bit." I downplayed our eighteen-year age gap. "Truth is, I am lucky to be with this treasure of a man, he's kind, sexy, smart and so talented." I gushed over him.

"But you've not communicated about your argument?" A slight smile spread on her lips despite her seriousness and somehow, I saw someone competent past those rhinestone eyebrows.

"No. I ran. Like always." I said in pure disappointment in myself. "I don't know if I fucked up for good this time. I can be such a bitch these days. But imagine me going home after this, what the fuck." I chewed slowly. "He already worries so much." I already knew my eyes were puffy and my lips were swollen from biting them. "Pedro thought he'd get a fun and bubbly, nurturing girlfriend but then he met my insecure dramatic traumatised and needy ass. What if I can't give him everything he deserves? He somehow still settled for me." A fresh tear ran down my cheek, this time I thought it might have been a happy one.

"You don't think your relationship is healthy?" Doc asked with a cough and I shrugged my shoulders. My fingers played with my sea glass necklace. "Do you think it's bad that... I don't feel like I'm not constantly on fire?"

"You think about the mind games that kept you interested?" "Don't call me out like that." My eyes narrowed.

"Let me ask you something. Does your relationship feel like an up-and-down roller coaster?"

I felt stupified and stammered out. "No?"

She kept insisting. "When someone has a hard time, do you make time to be there for the other? Not to improve things but just to be there."

"We can be miles away from each other at times but... yes. He's my lighthouse." I smiled widely despite her not getting the reference.

Giulia licked sauce off her thumb. "Do you bring the inner child up in each other?"

"Always." I laughed with tears in my eyes at every happy memory. I recalled our Christmases, birthdays, interviews and public events or simply the ordinary evenings just between the two of us.

Dr Oswald's shoulders relaxed with a sigh. "I think your relationship is more than healthy. Healthier than average couples. Don't let your insecurities talk you down, grow from them." With that, she shoved her last bite of pizza into her mouth and clapped her hands-free from crumbs.

My eyes skipped between her and the floor awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

She hummed before sharing an amused memory. "When my ex was fed up with me, I made her a sock puppet and tried to talk about it. She never called again." She demonstrated it with her glove. "Why don't you trust people?" She voiced her hand.

I gave her a fond smile as we began our walk back. "You're weird," I said with a chuckle as I retrieved a pre-rolled blunt from my purse and held it up to Giulia in an offer.

She grinned before passing me her lighter. "You're a cliché." She watched me light joint and take a practiced drag of the spicy herb.

"You're the one who said she dismembered Barbies as a kid." I countered with a deep exhale.

"Don't pretend you're not just as weird. You probably tortured your Sims or played with scary spiders or something." Giulia assumed, judging by my goth outfit by all accounts before taking a drag herself.

I couldn't help but play a joke on her. "There were indeed only spiders in the basement to play with," I commented dryly and her eyes closed while mine widened. Having just listened to the story of my sad childhood and the fact that my father used to lock me up in the cellar, she choked on the smoke. For a moment we were both shocked by my words until I noticed she was slowly breaking into laughter. She tried to keep it behind her hand but now we were both finished trying to hold back and instead of trying to work through and process my trauma, we let go of a hollering laugh. She at least tried to remain decent. "That's not funny. That's so not... funny."

I thought I was allowed to think it was. "It's a bit funny." She shook her head no, tearing up when she gave me my weed back. "See, you helped me already. I could talk about my dad without having an emotional breakdown. It's been easier already but I haven't felt this... relieved in a long time." I blinked away my tears stubbornly, finally admitting to myself that I was not fine and I was constantly reacting to my trauma. I decided then and there that if I would ever mistreat a future child of mine, I would not deserve to waste any more oxygen on this world. "You're really good at this. Knocking sense into people." I said sincerely.

"I appreciate you trying to end my lost cause. You made me feel like I'm not a total failure after all." She said on our way back through the calm side alleys. Our steps echoed from the red brick stone walls as we passed the joint back and forth.

"Are you kidding me? I appreciate your work so much. You do matter. This was... this was really helpful. I mean it." I saw her bottom lip trembling at my promise.

"Thank you. You're very nice."

Like a cool cat, I flicked the joint away. "I have my moments." She let me drape my arm across her shoulders as we made our way out of the last alley.

The night was slowly lifting and my mind felt light as a feather when the club came back into view. "I don't think I'll go back inside again." I said at the end of our journey.

Giulia turned and her hands clapped onto her sides with a sigh. "Now imma tell you what I'd say as a therapist and imma tell you what I'd say as a parent from an Italian household." She took a step closer and lowered her voice, her concern sounding far from patronising. "I would very much like to test you for PTSD and bipolar disorder and I want to break down generational trauma and introduce you to the right medication and progressive, beneficial habits because you girl, are not making wise choices." She finally put her finger down. "Second, and this is my nonna speaking-" Suddenly she raised her voice and I jumped. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET YOUR ASS HOME, PRONTO." She gestured like her Italian grandma and I chirped out a laugh.

"O-okay." I was met with a passionate grin I had to somewhat dampen. "PTSD has kind of already been diagnosed though." A deep intuitive feeling matched and I somehow knew she would be able to help me.

"No depression?" "It's more of an anxiety disorder." "Shame. People with depression have the best Spotify playlists."

I blinked at the sound of her disappointment. "I would very much like to become your patient." I decided then and there.

"Fantastic." She wrestled her hand into her boot in return to give me a white business card with a font that promised a brutalist interior design. 'M.D. G. Oswald' written on it with an office address in Manhattan not far from here.

"Fancy," I noted and tucked it away into my bra. She seemed genuinely happy at the encounter. "God knows, I've made my partner age ten years tonight. After this-" I began to walk backwards towards the street. "I owe him a lifetime of happiness... and no more runny sauces."

"Try creme fraiche next time." Giulia advised me and the only thing I could do was comment with an awkward 'ah.

I shifted my weight from one to the other foot, pointing in the direction of an approaching cab. "I should probably... I'll give you a call." I turned one last time after I had already managed to hail it. "Hey Doc, one more thing."

"What?"

I couldn't have addressed her with a sterner tone as I stood by the open door of my ride. "If you ever tell me I need to forgive my dad, I'll be out the door." I threatened and at first she looked puzzled, but then saluted me in understanding and we smiled at each other.

I was already inside the taxi when she whistled sharply with her fingers and provoked me to roll the window down. "Ey, one last word of advice." She began as she stood in front of the door back where our journey had originally started. "Make up with your fella. If he's mad, suck his dick. He'll get over it."

"Amen!" A bunch of suddenly cheerleading people roaming the club's entrance in their colourful outfits contributed with loud and some lewd additions.

I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat with my cheeks heating up at her thumbs up. "Thanks." Giulia slapped the roof of my taxi for goodbye and as I drove off, I looked back to see her going back inside the club.

~~~

At around five in the morning, the house was dark and perfectly quiet. Everything seemed to go according to plan if it meant Pedro had finally gone to sleep. The key and wind chime at the door hardly made a noise when I crept inside, yet having to greet a pathetically whining Edgar who had been waiting for me on the doormat required an advanced level of discreteness. "Hey, good boy, hi! Oh, dear. Oh, dear." I went over to pacify our boy before I snuck inside bare feet with my shoes dangling from my fingers.

Completely parched, I passed into the kitchen, unloaded all of my belongings onto the counter and fumbled at my earrings with a sigh. My mouth tasted weird.

I was stretching towards the glasses when sudden bright headlight illuminated the entire room and scared the living hell out of me. His sudden appearance had been nearly enough to drop my glass before I could even retrieve it from the cupboard. "Kut, fuck! You scared me!" I cursed after swishing around to see one particular unpleased Pedro in the French doorway. His frown only deepened and he gave me a thin-lipped stare as he leaned against the frame and crossed his toned arms over his chest.

I knew I had to look like an absolute mess, yet I gestured around as if I couldn't see what the point of him busting me like a naughty teenager was. This was terribly like a bad childhood memory of my father doing practically the same thing, the only difference was that I wasn't scared of Pedro. He was dressed in his old pyjamas and his hair was adorably ruffled post-shower but his softness was entirely replaced by harsh tension. Deep bags cast a shadow underneath his eyes and it was then that I noticed the sheen of tears in their hardness, something between pure anger and also, relief.

"Hi." I gulped, sensing I was in deep trouble regardless. I slowly pulled my wig off my head, discarding the long black strands as they flowed off my shoulders. He didn't echo my greeting as usual.

My eyes skipped to the floor at the sight of his obvious disappointment in me and I wondered if I would manage to raise any kind of reaction from him other than eyes that stared daggers into my soul. Pedro's anger was a chilling thing to behold. It was rare.

His chest first expanded and he tore his hand over his mouth like he needed to stop all the necessary curses from tumbling out with his next exhale. "How was it?" He asked instead, ironically with a sharp edge to each word. His eyes radiated a kind of severe heat that promised this was merely the calm before the storm.

I forced myself not to stutter but my heart beat out of my chest. "It was... nice. I feel good. Really good. Better um... I thought you'd maybe be asleep by the time I get home."

"Oh, really?" He parroted with dripping sarcasm, finally stepping down the few stairs and stalking intimidatingly closer. I shrunk underneath him and bumped into the counter, wincing at his proximity more than the impact. "Where were you?" He growled, jaw clicking.

Irritation glared up at me at his patronising tone and I realised I wasn't done provoking him after all. It was like I couldn't stop myself. With an attitude, I raised my chin and snarked up at him. "Why does it matter? I'm no longer there."

"Did you take anything?" He turned my face into the light above with force and I blinked, irritated at the examination. The light was too bright and his grip pinched my cheeks a little too harsh for his gentle character. He held heated eye contact that made my pride resolve and finally crumble. "Leonie, did you take anything?" He bit down at me after he couldn't detect something unusual about the dilation reflex in my pupils.

I freed myself from his grasp. "No, I didn't! Let go of me." I pouted childishly and he let it be for the moment, stepping back and letting me go like my touch burned him. "I'm fine!" I added when he walked away from me.

He faced the garden, his broad back casting a shadow onto the blueish-hued floor when I dared to speak up again. "I'm... I'm tired. I think I should just go to bed." I tried to sneak my way out but he was quicker to strut to the couch and toss me a pillow.

"No, you're not." He ordered, clearly insinuating I was sleeping here tonight.

"Fine." I bit out and aggressively fumbled with a blanket while he turned around and didn't take another look at me. A gush of air pushed through his nose when he walked past me.

I could only watch as he went to leave, a rush of sympathy and guilt provoking me to finally do the right thing. "I'm s-"

He broke off my apology. "Go to sleep and sober up. We'll speak in the morning."

A heavy stone settled in my heart. "Pedro."

He went to go upstairs and not once turned to look at my sad, lost form that waited in vain for a sign of forgiveness.

~~~

When I woke about five hours later, it was by the sound of items banging in the kitchen. The smell of something delicious sizzled in a pan but my stomach dreaded it and my head felt like it could burst. The first wave of sickness crashed into me when I remembered the resemblance of hatred in Pedro's eyes. Mine opened to the sight of his chocolate curls bouncing as he chopped something with a knife. His gaze was still turned down even though he must have seen that I was up and the more I told myself that he didn't care for me anymore, the more I felt like I deserved it.

The smell of bacon suggested that the thick tension hanging in this house was merely a delusion. Normally it meant something different. A cosy breakfast with a newspaper and coffee, loving banter and plans for the future.

Pedro discarded something into the bin when I sat up and disturbed Edgar, who had been sleeping cuddled into my side.

Pedro sighed and tossed the towel he'd been using over his shoulder. It was like he needed to brace himself before acknowledging me with a side glance and a tight pull of his moustache. I threw my blanket off and felt nothing but awful at the sight of the fatigue on his face.

"Good morning," I muttered meekly and got up to go and sit at the table with my hands folded sheepishly in front of me. I didn't even dare to walk up to him and get myself a cup of coffee. Pedro on the other hand, knowing me inside and out, fetched it for me and the creamy liquid sloshed over the rim at the force he used to slam it down in front of me. A plate with a croissant followed next with a harsh clatter of porcelain on wood. Before this 'talk' I dreaded more than anything would ensue, he waited for me to examine my favourite breakfast that I still adored him for. "Thank you." I barely managed to say.

He watched me dunk a piece of buttery deliciousness into my coffee, slip it into my mouth and treat him to a careful smile. I knew he had gone out of his way to get me fresh croissants but I couldn't tell if it was a peace offering or should merely act like a little sugar to make the medicine taste not so bitter. I braced myself for the latter. "D'd you sleep well?" He muttered tiredly and I nodded.

"The couch is pretty comfortable, actually." I attempted to make an insignificant observation before returning the question and receiving a hardly noticeable shake of his head as he brushed it off.

"Pedro, talk to me," I begged him, still hoping I could fix this. "Please."

Yell at me, throw something. Just anything.

I could hardly swallow as he stalked through the room. He took deep breath before his agitation finally unfolded. "Do you have any idea-" he spoke slow and patiently. "-how worried I was all night?"

Finally, his eyes met mine and it was nearly devastating. A heavy gulp forced my food down and I inhaled to start with an apology but he stopped me from making even the tiniest approach. "I was frightened, I didn't know what to do. You just... storm out after we had a fight, I have no idea where you're going-" The heat still radiated from his eyes when his voice turned a mocking tone. "The problem is you don't fucking care about anything! I wait for a fucking sign of life from you but you ignore my texts, you don't answer my calls-" His voice rose in volume with each word. "And then, finally at five in the morning, you come home, reeking of alcohol and weed and I knew-- I knew that would happen. Who else but you would just disappear, then pop up like nothing happened?" He had bent over the table, hands splayed out across when he spoke to me in calm anger. "You know what you did? You mixed painkillers with alcohol and drugs, you're lucky you didn't end up in the ER! And don't get me started on the scandal you could have caused when you walk around fucking wasted like that." He shook his head at me and I decided to keep it to myself that I had been to a gay club on top of that. "Irresponsible, stupid, impulsive girl. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't think you're a fucking danger hazard to yourself!"

"I was 'not' wasted," I muttered under my breath, but he looked past my antics and the flaw of design I called self-medication. He was speechless. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, you're sorry?" he chastised me, louder this time, ready to berate me a little more. "I'm sorry is not fucking good enough this time!" He was breathing irregularly.

"I needed a little bit of freedom, Pedro!" I cried out.

Maybe emotion made him irrational at this point too. He didn't care Edgar was whining at us. "Oh, remind me again how horrible living in LA was and make me feel guilty about it."

"I begged to come with you, to just leave New York, remember? Poen died and I wanted to leave." I yelled back, frantically wiping away the first couple of tears at his fury. "I love you, wherever you go, I go!" I sobbed. Silence hung in the room like thick fog clouding us.

He sighed, holding back the severity of his anger when he realised he had made me cry. Finally he sat next to me at the head of the table and with a terrible sigh, ruffled his hand through his hair.

He sounded so tired. "I was so fucking mad. Still am. You treat my concern like it's nothing. I get you're searching for yourself and what's good for you but call me out on my delusion if I assume it's not in self-medication but right here." He told me with his eyes closed. "Honey, I'm so invested in helping and supporting you and I also know you won't find that sort of thing while going out and risking your wellbeing. I have... a lot of empathy for what you're going through. Be selfish, by all means, but I am 'not-" he fixed my eyes with his and put his index finger onto the table. "deserving of being treated like shit. Trust goes both ways. If I can't convince you to do what's best for you, I trust that you at least won't disrespect my compassion."

Finally it sank in and I was struck by so much shame, my eyes stung violently and I hated myself for ever hurting him. Even if unintentionally, he was the only one who could stop me on my way down because he was in control of my heart. I was the first to break our tense silence. "I need help," I admitted in tears. "I want to get better."

We finally seemed to understand each other's dire struggle, for when he grasped my hand, it meant the world to me. "Maybe you want to try this clinic I found. I heard it's-" He began but I interrupted him and tried to conceal my disgust at even the mention of rehab.

"I already found a new therapist," I announced and he leaned back in a puzzled state. "Good, eh... good. What?" He stuttered.

"Last night." I finished and watched his jaw drop. He gave me a look like he was finally done with my bullshit and the hand he'd previously held so comfortingly let me go again. I aimed to pacify him before he could say anything. "A good psychiatrist, I met her in the club and I got a free session but I'm already a hundred per cent sure, she's the right one for me. She is... incredible."

Pedro was still too baffled to even process this piece of information. "That's... that's-" Pedro didn't know what exactly this was, he tried to think about his words but failed. He put his palm to his forehead to relieve the headache that had to be forming there. "I feel like you forgot everything I just said. You don't get it." Pedro looked at me, puzzled.

"I do." "No, I begged you to make more sensible decisions and then you barge in with this." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, you're a piece of work."

I tried not to take that past comment personally. "I mean something good came out of my manic episode. I realised important things. For example, that I'm self-sabotaging."

"Okay... okay. Let's think this through." Pedro had calmed down somewhat and ran his hand over his beard in an attempt to try and start over. "Does this therapist have any credentials? What's her background? References? Do you have any idea who she is?" His questions were all reasonable but I had no answers to them. All I knew was that none mattered because I had a good feeling I about her.

"She's extremely smart and empathetic, she's boisterous, a lesbian and she's a socialist. You'd like her." I explained and he blinked at me. Dumbfounded, he folded his hands and I felt free to tell him the entire story of how Doc and I met.

Even after I was done explaining, he was still not convinced. "You know can't have a personal relationship with your therapist. This meeting while going out... thing and smoking together doesn't sound good at all. Who parties with their therapist?"

"I know, I know we can't be friends. She already said something like that. That and, that I should suck your dick if you're still mad at me." His frown seemed edged in stone, causing my innocent expression to crumble bit by bit. "You don't want that." I assumed, quietly.

"No, I don't." He dismissed, low and pointedly. "This is a bad idea. And this... therapist suggesting a blow job would fix this-" he looked up with a spark of humour I fixed my hope on. "Maybe."

I raised my eyebrows and he pointed a finger at me. "No, I was joking." "Okay, jeez." "I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously."

Maybe it had dawned on me or my manic episode was finally tranquillized by cold sobriety but my eyes stung with tears and my voice cracked when I spoke under my breath. "I am taking it more seriously than ever." I tried and was met with a look of love and pain in his eyes that nearly broke my heart.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He begged quietly.

A heavy gulp got stuck in my throat and for several moments, I gathered the right things to say. "I know... I know you have a good reason to be angry with me but I felt... so helpless." I choked up. "So unseen."

For several long, insufferable beats, we stayed mute until the quietness became too much to bear. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way." His voice had cracked mid-sentence. "Just the thought anything could happen to you... and it would have been my fault. When I didn't hear anything from you, I was so angry."

When his eyes filled with tears, I reached over the table to gently try and loosen the arms he had crossed in front of his chest. Reluctantly, he opened up and let me hold his hand.

"Baby, I know it's been hard. I know-" My voice quivered while he tried to compose himself and meet my eyes. He was right, I hadn't been myself lately and I was so sorry for everything. For last night, for what nearly happened in LA. He was the one person I wanted to keep trying for and I made a promise with the only words that mattered. "I'll do better."

Pedro nodded, the flicker of warmth in his moist eyes. He believed me. "Okay." He decided and merely the thought of ever disappointing him again broke my heart. Never in my entire life had I felt such shame. The tears that had gradually been filling my eyes spilled over and I watched them fall into my lap when I couldn't hold them any longer.

He cupped my cheek when a sob shook my body and raised my chin so he could look me in the eyes and make something clear. "I was scared, for you. And you- you don't understand how much it hurts when you run out the door like that. Please, at least let me know you're okay next time." He admitted quietly.

"I'm so sorry." I cried out.

"You were right, I was too controlling. And I'm sorry for letting you sleep on the couch and being too harsh on you." He sighed, wiped first mine, then his tears away before he regained his composure. "If you need time for yourself, I won't stop you."

"Not... time away from you but-" I sighed. "Maybe I just need to get back to work. Do my own thing again and work on some music."

"That's a very good idea." He smiled for the first time and it was soothing, even though something seemed to still weigh on his mind. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes snapped back up from our entwined hands and I braced myself to receive an expectation I would have trouble meeting. "Promise you'll tell me when you feel like I'm smothering you, so you won't start to resent me?"

Finally, the consequences of my actions had an impact when I realised he was definitely the more mature person about this. The fact that I made him worry about that deeply saddened me. "I could never resent you." I squeaked out, finally broken.

Pedro breathed out a relieved sigh when I threw myself into his arms and I could hold him tight. His shoulders sank low as he hid his face in the crook of my neck and hugged me close. He needed me as much as I needed him, right here and wrapped up in his arms.

"Lost my fucking Duolingo streak." He grumped, spoke muffled into my shoulder and triggered a peal of laughter to bubble up between us.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I really am." I replied nasally but somewhat relieved of all tension. Looking back at him, I wiped away the moisture underneath his eyes.

"It's okay now." He promised. "I promise it'll be okay."

I revelled in his gentle touch. "I'm sorry for being all wrong in the head." My voice thinned out.

He caught my chin between his finger and thumb. "Hey, hey, you're not. Look at me." I did, looking into his still glistening, beautiful brown eyes to see him sniff and brace me for some uplifting words. "You think there's something wrong with you? There's nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. Anxiety and depression fucking suck but you're gonna stop being so hard on yourself. It gets better, I promise. And when we fight, we fight hard but we love even harder." His eyes were so soulful and he was in every way, kindness and beauty while I was ashamed of the way I looked, felt and behaved. Somehow he made me feel deserving again just by looking at me.

"You don't know how much that means to me." I was hardly able to say through my throat closing up in tears as I held his face in between my palms. "I'm sorry, Pedro. My sweetheart." Gazing into his shimmery, yet determined eyes and finally seeing no sign of irritation in them lifted an enormous weight off my heart. A desperate need for closeness forced its way into our embrace. It was nearly too harsh, the way he pulled me closer when his fingers tangled into the roots of my hair like he'd lose me if he didn't but I needed it to survive.

He held me close for what felt like forever and again, I felt the need to just disappear within him. "Hey, I don't want a mentally stable partner. That's boring." I said in an uplifting tone and I nearly giggled. "Because that's not fun. It doesn't fit me. You fit me. I want you, with all of your issues. To me, you are perfect." He placed many, loving kisses on my head and made his devotion and immortal support finally resonate within me. I was a path without an end and he was happy to keep treading on it.

Part 3 - Coming Soon

Translation notes:

(it): nonna - (eng): grandma

(it): pronto - (eng): now

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

#pedro pascal x actress #pedro pascal #series #fanfiction series #of a sun and flower #pedro pascal/original female character #fluff #domestic fluff

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ilikeboeks-blog · 1 year ago

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I did kiddads headcanons so now i wanna do some teen headcanons!

- Taylor

Taylor posts fanfic prompts on twitter (or X depending if it will ever change back), they're abt the anime he watches but Normal finds them and uses them for his Teeny fics.

His eyes are glow in the dark, demon genes manifest in weird ways. So when the lights are turned down you'll see two yellow orbs staring back at you.

On top of his demon genes Taylor had little fangs and had a lisp bc of it.

He has anime drawing books

His closet almost entirely exists out of cargo pants bc a true survivor needs as many pockets as possible all of the time.

He bought a swiss army knife off ali express and it turned out to be a plastic toy.

- Normal

So, i dunno if this is any other country's, but im from the Netherlands and here we have friend books during elementary school. You let all your friends and some teachers write in them and you can exchange them too! I feel like Normal would do something like that, he'd keep a friend book.

Since Norm is a 16th elf he has the same trance trait a regular elf has, he is the only one in his family that can do it. So sometimes when Normal doesnt feel like sleeping he'll go into trance and meditate abt teen spirit.

Every friend normal has ever had has a friendship bracelet made by him.

Normal loves those English fish pies a weird amount probably bc theyre both stinky.

- Scary

She has done stick and poke on herself.

When she first wanted to dye her hair het mom said it was ok, but she didn't have time to take her to the salon so Terry Jr. had to come along and after that time she started giving herself botched dye jobs.

She listens to pop music from this time so ariana grande, taylor swift, little mix, justing bieber, charlie xcx. But bc it's from over 20 years ago she can convince ppl its edgy old ppl music.

She has a signed soccer ball from one of her favourite players.

- Linc

Aside from soccer i feel like Linc would have the most random hobbies, like beetle fighting. He finds two beetles and puts them in a little arena he made and makes them fight.

He writes letters to Darryl about his soccer experiences, since Grant is slightly traumatised abt soccer and Marco is gay and does not understand the sport, but always support Linc in it.

Writes in calligraphy.

Cat person.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #head canon #teens #dndads season 2 #taylor swift #lincoln wilson #scary marlowe #normal oak #just teen things

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ryttu3k · 1 month ago

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Noodling around with a new Durge. Tentative name: Etavel, high elf bard (and eventually Cleric of Corellon). Flighty, dramatic, a lover of art, music, magic, and beauty, Etavel is a pretty archetypal Corellite - something that makes them spectacularly unsuited for being Bhaal's Chosen and heir.

(CW for… Durge and Bhaalspawn-typical stuff, really.)

Turns out using a lost elven Bhaalspawn soul, originally conceived in the original plot prior to the Time of Troubles, in crafting his new child may have been a mistake. Bhaal had intended to shape this soul into a weapon - instead, the Bhaalspawn this soul had once been had died in childhood before even reaching their First Reflection, returned to Arvandor, and become quite attached to Corellon's teachings; when they found themself ripped back to the Material Plane, something of that remained, some inherent elvishness that not even their Bhaalist blood could overwhelm. Etavel was born in 1439, possessing the Blessing of Corellon, and raised by Baldurian elves in a tradition of music and magic.

They were ten years old when they killed their foster parents, immediately taken in by Sceleritas Fel, the cult beginning the process of indoctrinating the young elf as their new leader. Etavel tried to resist, they really did. They loved beautiful things, and the Undercity was not beautiful, it was ugly and scary and cruel. Still, they were only a child, and easily overpowered physically and mentally by their domineering older half-brother Sarevok - over time, Etavel broke down, reluctantly embracing their destiny along with Sarevok and their niece Helena, Sarevok's daughter, put on a strict program of education and brainwashing, teaching them combat, Bhaalist culture, and a great deal of regular violence.

While they still rebelled on occasion (once, as a youth in 1460, they even managed to run all the way to Evereska, intending to escape into the Feywild!), these attempts grew less frequent as the cult slowly broke their spirit, and while they still loved art, music, magic, and beauty, their view on such began taking on a distinctly more Bhaalist tinge. By the 1470s, they were a seasoned killer; in 1477, they went on a killing spree that became legendary amongst the cult, and when Bhaal officially returned five years later in 1482, following the deaths of Abdel Adrien and Viekung, Etavel was officially named Bhaal's Chosen (much to the dismay of Sarevok and his grand/daughter Orin, his child with Helena, who Orin had slain in 1471 when she was seven years old).

By 1490, they were… tired. Tired of the Bhaalist cult, tired of being seen only as a tool of their father. Tired of the Dark Urge that often stripped them entirely of agency and control. They began working with Enver Gortash, falling desperately in love, or at least infatuation; while they still had loyalty to Bhaal and the full intention of eventually carrying out his plans, they began wondering if, perhaps, there could be another path for them.

Whether the Absolute plot would have saved them, however, they would never find out. The day before Midsummer, Flamerule 30 1492, Orin attacked them and handed them over to the tender ministrations of the Myrkulite Kressa Bonedaughter. They would remain in her custody for nearly two tendays before being loaded onto the Nautiloid; on Eleasis 20, their new life would begin.

Etavel is still young, for an elf - only 53 years old, while an adult by Baldurian standards, they have yet to pass many elven milestones, like the Drawing of the Veil. Their trance is filled with memories of their past lives and nightmarish glimpses of their current one, mostly stripped of context. Still, their waking hours are an unexpected gift, despite the violent urges they still feel. Now, they can celebrate art, music, magic, and beauty - and a more innocent, joyeous form of them, like they had enjoyed in their youth before the cult and before the Urge. They've rediscovered Corellon Larethian, and have reached out to them in an attempt to find some guiding star in their own life; there is a future to be had there, if only they can rid themself of the Urge once and for all.

#hi i'm hyperfixating on elves again #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #oc: etavel

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an-odd-idea · 1 year ago

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Men’s free skate, a totally-normal recap

Adam with the most Benoit program I’ve ever seen, good job making that shirt choreo work. He held on to that quad Lutz a la Yuzuru with the Axel that time, amazing. And that side flip thingy he does, crazy. He’s so good. It’s a shame the short program had him so far behind

Kevin no, Kevin (watch the light dude, he didn’t) The only good Bolero program there is, he sells it so hard and does such cool, interesting things, and then that choreo sequence where everybody just starts screaming. Unfortunately the program didn’t go too well, really badly, actually, so I will be erasing it from my mind and thinking about the short program instead because I could watch that one move that’s like knee slide and then magical swoop to spread eagle all day

Kao was so nervous, I could actually see the tension in him. He wasn’t able to give the amazing performance that made me suddenly crazy for him, and the jumps were all a lil scary, and that last spin was uhhhhh… but he didn’t fall and that is nice. There will be other competitions and he’ll be more secure at those hopefully

Yuma popped his gorgeous amazing showstopping make you catch your breath Salchow, but all the other jumps were perfection, and ah, HIM, Yuma’s back, baby! I’m so happy to see him on the podium at the final in his first season back, that’s crazy

Shoma nooooo, I really hoped he’d win, but alas. He was still beautiful, though, nailing that quad loop and flip that was I was so nervous for, and then argh! popped Axel jumpscare! But everybody shut up, his step sequence. It hardly registers as “oh, now it’s step sequence time” it’s just so beautiful and smooth and perfect that you don’t even think and then you realize later what difficult stuff he was doing with perfect posture and glide and all his movements measured and placed exactly. And he really did fight, went for the triple Axel again and got it and did an unplanned combination with a triple flip on the end, he’s just amazing. I think he does different arms on the choreo sequence every time. Is he still tweaking it to find exactly what he wants it to look like, or does he just improvise whatever he’s feeling? I was watching that last spin go on like “pleeeaaaase don’t get a time deduction” and he did, but it’s okay. Beautiful ice guy, he always looks a little bit self-conscious when he’s done like he just woke up from a trance, which to be fair is what his skating does to a person, and he’s like “oh, whoa, there are people watching me?”

Ilia won, and it was well earned. He makes quads look so easy I always think they’re triples, and he’s working so hard on the component score, you gotta love him. That twisty jump he invented was perfect to the music and I’m glad the people liked it so much. Good job Ilia!

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thygoddessouijathicc · 2 years ago

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Phone Guy Dave AU Fanfic: Aubergine Pizza

(Disclaimers: it’s best to thing of my first fic, Saferoom, as sorta a prequel/backstory. This is once again quite OOC, especially for Dave, because, well, he’s a phone guy now, a bit for Jack as well because he has depress because boyfriend is phone, admittedly not too out of the ordinary (not the depress at least, the phone part is pretty weird tho).

While my last fic was hardcore angst with a double shot of angst on the side, this one, and probably a lot of future phone guy Dave AU fanfics contains a great deal of fluff. Specifically Davesport fluff.

DSAF 3 spoilers)

Jack had found that despite having called in a few favours with the factory, he hadn’t managed to have them make Dave any less brainwashed. Ok, that is not entirely true, as he had managed to effectively skip out on the whole fake wife and being named Scott thing. But that’s where his luck ended.

Dave had been simply left with really no memories whatsoever, and upon having asked if Jack knew who he was, the orange man had snapped at him. Jack didn’t mean to. It wasn’t Dave he was upset with. It was Henry.

The man who he had trusted for some reason. Perhaps Henry really was the manipulative mastermind he thought himself to be. Henry had used his body to hurt Dave, and now Dave had forgotten his own name.

Jack had gotten in trouble, apparently Dave was missing a lot of organs, and his decomposition was suspicious. The people at the factory had accused Jack of having killed him himself, taken his organs, and left him to rot. The only reason he was not arrested was a) because what was going on wasn’t exactly MORAL in the first place, b) Jack is very scary, and c) Dave COUGHED.

Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever get Dave back. He wasn’t responding to anything, and he was running out of hope.

“Uhhh sir? Sir you have been standing there staring at me for the past 10 minutes.” Jack was snapped out of his trance by Dave, ‘staring’ down at him.

“Right. Sorry I lost my train of thought. What did you want again?”

The phone sighed dramatically, “You know we’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t focus, sir. I was just telling you that our suit performer is… ‘on vacation’ which is code of course for ‘running from the police’. Now I could step in for h-“

“No.”

“Sir I don’t understand.”

“I’ll do it. I swear to god if you ever have to see the inside of a springlock suit.”

“I already have.”

“Do not be a smartass employee.”

“Now that the case of the suit wearer is settled, rather oddly I might add. We have finally completed all matters on this page.” Dave says.

“So are we done now? Can I go now?”

“No. We have 4 more pages.”

Jack whines “still?! We’ve already done like 8!“

“11 actually.”

“Christ.”

“Ok onto the next order of business. The customers find Matt to be unsettling, due to his virginity and smile. Now, we can’t do anything about the smile but we CAN take him to Vegas and hire a couple hookers.”

Jack smiles at Dave’s first solution being hookers in Vegas, maybe he wasn’t gone after all.

“Nah, won’t work. I’ve already tried that. Besides, can’t we just have Matt wear a mask? He should be wearing one anyway.”

“We can’t. The hecking masks melt off his face due to the power of his virginity.”

“…Christ.”

“So I’m assuming Matt is a bust?”

“Pretty much. We just need to tell customers to deal with it, he all but came with the prize counter.”

“I thought you specifically looked for him for the job.”

“He all but came with the prize counter.”

Dave makes a dialup noise in frustration. “Ok… how about just this last page. I want to be done as much as you do. I have a longing to hide in the Saferoom so I don’t have to do my job. Mostly to escape this conversation.”

“Gimme the next boring list item.”

“Ok, so, music man has made his nest in our ball pit and kids have started disappearing into it. Fazbender’s has a long history of child murders so it looks very bad for us.”

You’d know about that, wouldn’t you. Oh wait… no you wouldn’t. Never mind…

“So we probably need to find some way to get rid of it… only problem is that… I don’t want to even enter that room because of it.”

“Eh, it’s not our worst room.”

Another dialup noise “HOW THE HECK IS THE ROOM WITH THE GIANT HECKING SPIDER ROBOT THAT EATS KIDS NOT OUR WORST ROOM!?!?!?!?!”

“Disabled bathroom. Also the strip club, although that one is also my favourite. It’s only bad because Oscar.”

The phone guy sighs “ok, next order of business. The health inspector is coming soon-“

“How soon is soon?”

“12 years.”

“Ok that’s it, meeting over, you’re obsessing over things that don’t matter. It’s tradition to only care the DAY OF the inspection. Plus a little bribery goes a long way so you don’t even have to care that day either. You’re working yourself to death.”

“Better dead than closed sir.”

Jack grabbed the purple phone man’s hand and dragged him away.

“Where are you kidnapping me to sir?”

“My favourite room.”

“Oh dear god no.”

Jack throws open the door to the strip club. “Look Davey, STRIPPER FAXES.”

“…why did you say ‘fox’ like that?”

“Dave… say ‘fax’”

“No.”

“Dave I’m not angry, just disappointed. Say fax.”

“Sir… you’re scaring me.” Dave backs away.

“Say fax employee. It is an order.”

“Fine sir. ‘Fax’. Are you happy.”

“Very.”

Jack leads Dave into the strip club, and directly to the salad bar. “Sir if this is that thing where you get me to yell at you to not eat the salad I’ll fire myself.” Ah, Jack remembers making his first phoney do that. Priceless. Not something he’d make Dave do, but priceless nonetheless.

“No I was actually wondering if you wanted any. It’s the only food in this building you can’t get cancer from.”

“I don’t have a mouth, sir.” His phone guy reminds.

“I’m sure we could just shove it up your ass and have the same effect.”

“Sir, I’m not letting you shove salad up my ass.”

“:(“

“Did you just… say an emoticon? Also did you want to shove salad up my ass?!?”

“Ok, I’m bored now and I’ve endured too much Oscar by being in the same room as him.”

Jack grabs Dave’s hand again and drags him out of the room.

“So what is it… if I might ask… what is it you actually DO? During the days you’re here?” Dave asks Jack.

“Eh, I mostly just wander around looking for loose change and messing around.” Jack gets a dialup tone in response to this.

“Look if you really want to be doing actual work. How about we make a pizza? The eternal spirit of Ronaldo taught me how.”

“The WHAT NOW?!”

Dave mostly forced Jack to put on normal toppings. This wasn’t good. Jack was hoping to reawaken Dave’s chaotic urges by giving him opportunities to mess with people, but the factory had turned him into some perfect employee. Fortunately for Jack, he had a TRUMP CARD. A whole eggplant.

Dave was just about to put the pizza in the oven when he pulled out the plant. “Wait, Dave, one more ingredient.”

Dave seemed to freeze for a moment upon seeing the eggplant, as if remembering something. Holy shit was Jack’s stupidest plan to date working?

“An elusive aubergine!”

“H-how is it elusive.”

“Murder.”

“Of course. Well you can’t put it on the pizza it’s not sliced or anything.”

“Sure I can. He desires to be on the pizza, Dave. I’ve never been one to say no to aubergines.”

“Look I can tell that somehow by looking at you. But this particular EGGPLANT is telling you to do something EVIL.”

“Fake news. All aubergines tell me to do evil things.”

“The evil power of your purple vegetable is causing me to glitch, get it away from me. Kids won’t want to eat it anyway.”

“Sure they will. It’s delicious.” Jack decides to demonstrate this by taking a bite out of the eggplant.

“Ok now we REALLY can’t put it on the pizza, you bit it.”

“I have more.” Jack says, pulling more eggplants out of nowhere. Dave makes a dialup noise in response.

“Ok Sport, really, this is causin’ me to glitch.” Dave says, having apparently switched back to his real voice. Jack smiles upon hearing the nickname.

“Glitch smitch, it’s going on the pizza.” Jack moves to put it on the pizza.

“NO!” Dave jerks the pizza away. “I’m not letting you mess with my code!”

“Dave…” Jack sighs. He wants him back, as soon as possible. But he doesn’t want to hurt him again. He’s at least managed to START Dave remembering who he is. With some clever language and an aubergine alone.

Jack’s eggplants seem to disappear back into Jack’s Apparently bottomless pockets.

“Ok, I’ll stop. You win, normal pizza it is.”

“Actually…” Dave says, sounding somewhat unsure. Dave grabs one of the acid mushrooms Jack had tried to convince him to put in with the regular ones and sticks it on one of the slices. “Lil’ thing for whoever gets that piece.” Dave says. And for a moment Jack almost forgets he’s talking to a phone guy.

That night, Jack goes home hopeful for what the future might hold, for the first time since Dave had asked him to go to the factory, he feels things might be ok.

As for Dave? As soon as he goes into sleep mode, he has dreams of a time long past in which an aubergine and his tangerine took Vegas by storm.

(Notes: Aaaand fic two is done. It’s a better depiction of what to expect from the PG!Dave AU. Although there surely will be more angst like the first one. Not much more to say. Bai!)

#dsaf #dsaf phone guy #dsaf dave #dsaf old sport #dsaf 3 #dsaf jack #dsaf davetrap #dave miller #jack kennedy #davesport #dayshift at freddy's #fluff and angst #dsaf fanfic

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