#should you somehow not have read it yet and decide to go seek it out

[razorsadness]

Every woman adores a Fascist,    The boot in the face, the brute    Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,    In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot    But no less a devil for that, no not    Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you.    At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.

—Sylvia Plath, from “Daddy”

[lliminall]

libera me, dies irae, requiem aeternam | pt. 2

[yandere!giorno x reader x yandere!GER]

word count: 2.5k

tags: gn reader, yandere, very brief implied nsfw, still ignoring GER’s canon limits, jjba but make it eldritch horror

It’s a wonder that you can still find ways to get yourself hurt despite the many safeguards your captor has put into place. No razors in the bathroom, no glass in your room, no knives at the table unless he is with you.

Tonight Giorno has joined you for dinner, and the knife you’ve been allowed to cut your food with proves itself to be a weapon in your sleep deprived hands. The blade only slips for a second, but it’s long enough slice deep into the meat of your finger, and you hiss as stinging pain races up your hand.

Giorno’s hands are on top of yours before you can even think to ask for help.

“It’s all right,” he soothes. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of it.”

His hand covers your bleeding finger and something in the air around you seems to shift. A change in the energy, intense and disorienting, and somehow familiar. A creeping sensation begins to overtake you, frigid like ice water dripping down your spine. You’ve felt this energy before.

It retreats only a moment later, leaving you swimming back to your senses in the quiet of the dining room. Giorno unfolds his hands and your fingers rest in his palm, perfect and unmarred except for the smear of blood on your skin. Your head spins.

“What…?” is all you can manage in response.

Giorno looks at you contemplatively, choosing his words carefully as he thumbs over the skin of your fingers for as long as you’ll let him hold them.

“It’s an ability I’ve had for most of my life,” he says. “I understand this must be disorienting for you.”

You want to ask him to explain what just happened, where you’ve felt this before, and why this feeling of dread settled under your skin the moment he showed it to you. But Giorno stands and lifts you up with him by your newly healed hand.

“I should have noticed how exhausted you are,” he says. “I apologize. You must want to lay down.”

He begins leading you to your shared bedroom, and there’s a finality in his tone that tells you he won’t be explaining what that was just yet. He leaves you in your bed with a final brush over your hand, and turns the light off behind him.

—

It’s late when you finally decide to forgo your attempts to sleep. The clock on your bedside reads “12:45 AM” in faint glowing numbers, and Giorno has yet to join you in bed. You have a feeling that you know where to find him.

Padding softly to the door of his office and knocking twice, he calls for you to enter.

It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting to see you at all, much less clad only in the thin fabric of your night shirt. It brushes against the tops of your thighs and you tug the hem down as you step into his office.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him.

“I understand,” he says. “I’m sure you’re confused about what happened earlier.”

You take a seat in the chair across from his desk.

“I do have a lot of questions,” you tell him. “I get that you didn’t really want to talk about it, but it’s keeping me up. And kind of, uh, freaking me out a little bit.”

Giorno takes a deep breath. “It’s…difficult to explain,” he begins. “I suppose it was inevitable that you would learn about it eventually, but I don’t know if it will bring you any comfort to hear an explanation.”

“Giorno,” you nearly whine, and his expression brightens at the sound of his name on your lips. It isn’t something he’s had the pleasure of hearing often. It isn’t often that you seek him out willingly for a conversation, either.

“I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it. Can you just tell me what happened? Please?”

He looks at you with a torn expression and says nothing. You know he doesn’t like denying you anything, but his desire to please you is second only to his need to keep you under his careful control.

“I won’t bother you about it again,” you add. “I just—I really need you to help me make sense of this.”

You need him, you said. You know that you’ve won when his shoulders slump the tiniest bit, and he lets out a long breath. Giorno takes a pen from his desk and holds it up for you see. That energy permeates the air again, the one that you know but can’t quite place, and before your eyes the pen begins to warp and twist into something else. A stem pinched between his fingers, a pale pink bud growing and unfurling into petals at the top. He places it into your hand. It’s a flower. Delicate and beautiful where only moments ago it was mechanical steel.

Giorno smiles at your awestruck expression.

“This is my ability. I can create any living thing out of inanimate objects.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You can make anything?”

“Nearly anything,” he says, pleased at your rare lightheartedness. “Do you have any requests?”

You hum quietly in thought, still thumbing absentmindedly at the flower between your fingers.

“What about…a frog?” you ask, your expression open and hopeful.

It occurs to you that this is one of the only positive interactions you’ve had with him yet. Giorno is basking in this moment before you, clearly trying to mask how pleased he is with his usual composed demeanor. He plucks another pen from his desk and that same energy permeates the air again. It cuts through your mood like a knife, shocking you back into focus. You remember why you came here. There’s something wrong with all of this, and you’re going to find out why.

The pen becomes a frog in Giorno’s palm, and he motions for you to give him your hand. You swallow hard and hold it out to him, schooling your face into an expression that’s as relaxed as you can manage. You want him in a good mood. You want him answering your questions.

He places the frog gently in your waiting palm, where it settles into the warmth of your skin. It’s real, but your appreciation for the moment has been soured by the reminder of what you have to find out.

“It’s cute,” you say, and Giorno smiles at your praise.

“You made an excellent choice,” Giorno says. “I’m partial to frogs myself.”

You don’t know if you’ve seen him looking so hopeful in all the time you’ve been here.

“How do you do it?” you ask. “Is it like…magic?”

Giorno laughs quietly and you feel almost like a child for saying it.

“It’s not quite magic,” he says. “Although you’re not that far off. It’s more like—well, it comes from my soul.”

“Your soul?” you ask, not quite following him.

“Yes,” he nods. “It’s my spirit, you could say. The manifestation of my will. It has the ability to create life, and if there’s ever anything you want to see, you’re welcome to ask me for it.”

Giorno poses it as an offer to you, but you hear it for what it is. A request. Please come to me. Please talk to me. Please smile and laugh with me again. What a breathe of fresh of air this would have been, a break from the boredom and anxiety of your days, if you hadn’t just begun to put the pieces together. Giorno’s spirit has powers.

“So, if your spirit does all this, is it kind of like a ghost?” you ask.

“You could say it’s something like that,” Giorno says. “You can’t see it, but it’s been here each time I’ve used it for you.”

A spirit that you can’t see. A spirit with magical powers. You remember every night that you’ve been here, every night that you’ve felt haunted in the space of your own dreams, that lingering, otherworldly, familiar feeling following you into your waking hours.

You remember a voice like Giorno’s and piercing eyes standing over you. A spirit. Giorno’s spirit.

You must look like you’ve well and truly seen a ghost, and you suppose you have. Giorno’s expression falls as he senses the change in your mood. He calls your name softly.

“Is something wrong?”

You can’t be near him anymore. You place the frog on the table and stand, the flower falling somewhere at your feet.

“Sorry. I’m going back to bed,” you say, and as you whisk yourself away you hear his dim voice calling out to you in confusion.

You can’t go back to the bedroom. Can’t lay down and sleep where you’ve been watched—stalked—night after night by this thing that has haunted you ever since you were brought here. Your legs bring you to a guest room, sterile and unlived in, and you drop to the floor against the pristinely made bed. Knees to your chest, bare thighs prickling in the cool air.

This is a nightmare. A waking, living nightmare. You can’t let yourself fall asleep again, where that thing will be there, waiting for you as always. You imagine opening your eyes and finding yourself back in the void, with nothing but the presence of a monster you now know is real. You cannot. You will not. You have to stay awake.

You sit in the dark room until your exhausted body begins to betray you. How long has it been since you slept? Really slept? You sit until you begin to nod off and then you stand, and pace, and crouch with your head in your hands. Anything to stay awake.

You feel, for a moment, that oppressive energy filling the room again, but there is nothing there. You wait, and it fades, and you don’t know if your sleep deprived mind has finally begun to unravel or if that thing has finally begun following you outside of your dreams.

—

Giorno isn’t surprised when, by the time he finally retires for the night, he doesn’t see you in bed. Normally he insists on you sharing his room, for your own safety, of course. He can’t risk leaving you unattended all night. Tonight, however…his gut tells him it would not be wise to search you out. No matter how much he wants to take you by your shoulders and have you explain what that was all about.

He folds himself under the blankets and falls into a fitful sleep.

He dreams about you. Or rather, he sees you and himself, living your lives together, as if watching a film play out before him. There’s a tug on his soul. What is his stand up to?

He sees you walking with him in his gardens. Chatting to him about the flowers you pass and the care you’d done for them that morning. You look happy. Not in the way you were before—before he brought you here—but in a way that approaches it.

Like a sixth sense, Giorno is suddenly aware of his stand’s presence somewhere near him. The scene fades away from him like a tape being rewound, and then it rebuilds itself around him, different now.

He sees you crying in the bedroom, storming into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It doesn’t have a lock, but he knows you would be flicking it if it did.

“I’m doing this for your safety,” Giorno watches himself tell you through the door. Does he always look this tired? “I promise you, everything I’ve done is for your benefit.”

You sob quietly behind the door, and the world breaks down and rebuilds again.

He sees you and himself seated at a table in a restaurant. A public venue, where you shift nervously in your seat. Giorno places his hand over yours and you don’t pull away.

“Are you all right?” he asks quietly. “We can always go home if this is too much for you, carina.”

You shake your head and fluster. “No! No, it’s ok. I think I need to—I mean, I just have to get used to it. Being out here again.”

Giorno watches himself nearly flinch, and feels the same pang in his own chest at the understanding that he’s made you so afraid of something so normal. A restaurant with people in it. People who aren’t him. You curl your fingers into his and give him a shy smile.

“And I want to be here with you,” you say.

The world breaks down, the world builds up. Giorno catches sight of his stand over his shoulder, and calls out to it in the chaos.

“Why are you showing me this?”

His stand meets his eyes for a moment, and then the world is rebuilt.

He sees you sitting across from him at the dinner table, pointedly looking anywhere but at his face. Looking like you could start crying in a second.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I’ll take you outside as soon as I have the time, but you know I can’t allow you out alone when you’re acting like this.”

You don’t answer.

Breaking down, building up.

He sees you sipping mocha from a mug he raises to your lips. You, cursing at him and declaring your hatred of him. You, sweaty and flushed beneath him. You, turning your back on him.

You. Bloody and broken.

Giorno has seen enough.

He wakes drenched in sweat. Sheets stick to his skin as he hauls himself up to sit on the bed, and he turns to face the window where his stand is illuminated by the pale moonlight.

“What was that?” he asks, nearly out of breath. It does not respond.

“What was all of that? Why would you show me this?”

The stand does not reply. It knows, and Giorno knows, that he already has the answer. That these are just a fraction of the countless outcomes of your lives together, his deepest desires, his greatest fears, and somewhere in between, the choices that lead him there. His stand watches him. Quiet.

“I know,” Giorno says. “I already know what’s at stake. I’m going to fix all of this, I just need time.”

The stand watches him. It doesn’t need to speak—it doesn’t ever speak to him—but Giorno knows in his soul what’s being communicated between the two of them.

Don’t fuck this up for either of us.

Giorno throws the blankets from his body and takes a hair tie from your nightstand, imbuing it with the form of a butterfly and following it out the door. He leaves his stand in the room behind him. He needs to find you, now.

Everything he wants and everything he fears has been laid out before him, as vivid as anything else he has lived and breathed through.

One of these outcomes is destined for truth, and Giorno has never failed to reach a goal once set in front of him.

The butterfly comes to rest on the door to a guest room down the hall.

Giorno takes a long, steadying breath, and knocks.

[chronicoverthinker]

I think nobody pointed it out yet but in yesterday’s chapter we can see that “Hikaru” was reading some interesting books. Two of them were “the little mermaid” and “Frankenstein”

Now of course we all know that in the little mermaid , she wishes to become a human to be with the man she loves. In the Disney version she is able to live the rest of her life happily ever after WHILE in the original tale the little mermaid ends up turning into sea foam because her love isn’t corresponded.

I know you guys could say “but wait , how do we know we should take into consideration the original version of the tale?” And the answers is because of the second story.

Frankenstein seems to perfectly parallel what’s been going on in the story so far and let me tell you , that is not good.

In the story a doctor is able to sew together parts of dead bodies to bring it back to life, much like the great brainsnatcher was able to put back Hikaru’s body after his fatal fall and bring it back to life.

The monster is actually a very gentle creature , much like “Hikaru” seems to see the world with childlike wonder and innocence , but at the same time both of them get shunned away for different reason.

The monster doesn’t understand that it’s appearance is frightful to humans , and once it tries to mix in with them they run away terrified. While with “Hikaru” he’s unable to understand the concept of human life and this doing actions that scare others (Yoshiki) even tho his intentions are somehow good (to carry out Hikaru’s dying wish of protecting Yoshiki and making him happy in his place)

The problem is that the monster from the original story , with no love left for humanity , asks to his creator one last wish before completely departing to live in solitude (much like “Hikaru” keeps talking about how he should go back to the mountain). He asks for the doctor to make him a female counterpart , a lover , to share his life with. And doesn’t that sound just like what both Yoshiki and “Hikaru” have been saying? With “Hikaru” purposely reminding the viewer that even if he doesn’t express it , Yoshiki is his. He belongs to him , and as long as he doesn’t have to give up this borrowed humanity of his then he won’t have to bring him back to the mountain with him.

While Yoshiki is ready to give up his everything if it means that “Hikaru” can find a place to live as he pleases.

We could also add in the fact that in the manga it’s been said many times that Yoshiki is mixed with “Hikaru”, starting to become the same as him.

In the story the monster’s counterpart gets killed by the doctor himself , thus making the monster decide to seek revenge by hunting its creator. The story ends with the monster killing it’s creator and then committing suicide.

Let me know what you think cuties 😘

[freesia-writes]

From the prompt list

“the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.”

With Echo??? First clone I thought of! Have fun :) can’t wait to read if you decide to write it!

I DID NOT EXPECT TO WRITE THIS MUCH, LOL. Echo pulled a Crosshair! ;) Sheesh.

Echo x GN!Reader Word Count: 3k!! Content: bar fight, first kiss, SW-universe cussing. ;)

You’d gotten quite used to seeing them in Cid’s parlor – a motley crew of bounty hunters or mercenaries or whatever they were. You probably should have known the specifics by now, but they didn’t like to talk about work. And you weren’t paid to talk, you were paid to deliver things without asking questions. So when you found yourself lingering more and more often, lost in conversation with one in particular, you began to wonder if he would be bad for business. Yet somehow, you didn’t care. 

Echo was a complete and total enigma – brave and cynical while also radiating warmth and integrity. You had so many questions that you held back, mostly because it wasn’t entirely polite to ask someone you just met why virtually half their body was cybernetic. So you stuck to the usual topics for a while: the local scene of Ord Mantell, the scum and villainy that was everywhere to be found, and random thoughts about the state of the galaxy. 

Before long, you were surprised to notice how much you looked forward to your courier assignments that brought you into his vicinity, and you found more and more excuses to have extra time there. Instead of lurking around the other hot spots of underworld business dealings to pick up additional jobs, you’d take him up on his offer for a game of darts or a mug of disgustingly cheap beer in a corner booth. It became difficult to deny the sinking feeling in your heart when you trotted down the stairs into Cid’s and the team was absent on a mission. 

But tonight, you were fortunate. The place was bustling – a whole new gang was in town, it seemed, and they were getting along well with the other less-than-respectable locals. The parlor was loud and lively, making it difficult to hear Echo over the incessant talking, scuffling, laughter, and shouting of all the patrons. His squad was enjoying a much-needed day off, scattered about the planet on their own pursuits of refreshment. Tech was working on the ship, Crosshair was seeking blissful solitude somewhere, and Hunter went with Wrecker and Omega on a Mantell Mix pursuit thinly disguised as a supply run. 

Echo had chosen to stay here, and you were trying not to read too much into it. But the conversation had been particularly open and honest tonight, and your head was buzzing with the excitement of connection and the general joviality of the bar. Your mouth hung open slightly as he finished his story, finally filling in all of the details of how he had come to be what and where he was. The last vestiges of pain was receding from his face after having recounted his entire horrid ordeal, and you couldn’t help but place a hand over his after he downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. The sudden intimacy caught his attention, and his pale brown eyes were large as he regarded you beneath the bluish glow of the neon lights. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly, pulling your hand back. “I just… can’t believe it all. You’ve been through so much.” Your words fell out quickly as you tried to move past the potentially awkward moment, but Echo stared at the table, at his own hand where yours had rested just a moment ago. 

“Yeah,” he said absently, not meeting your gaze. “Not how I would have scripted it, that’s for sure.” He appeared to be deep in thought, sharp brows drawing together over his luminous eyes. When he finally did look up, he appeared to be brimming with something… a question, a realization… and he slowly opened his mouth to speak. 

CRASH!

A glass bottle shattered against the wall above the two of you, causing you to yelp and fling your arms over your head as liquid and pieces rained down. The table scraped loudly as Echo flew to his feet, hawkishly raking his eyes over the crowd. But there was no question where the disturbance had come from – a brawl had broken out across the room, and the shouting was growing louder as two entire groups immediately jumped into a conflict started by just two individuals. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you said urgently, pulling on his arm as you stood beside him. You knew when it was wise to make yourself scarce after having been caught in the crossfire more often than you’d like. These sorts of crowds were irrationally unpredictable and predictably irrational. Echo cast you a glance for a moment before turning back to the aggravated group, keeping his eye on them as they swung at each other and crashed into tables nearby. He seemed torn, giving you a quick nod but then muttering under his breath.

“They’re gonna tear the whole place up…”

Cid was nowhere to be seen, and other patrons were being dragged into the fight as it grew and grew. Tables were turning, glasses smashing, and it was all threatening to melt into utter chaos when suddenly a series of live blaster bolts exploded against the ceiling in rapid-fire succession. It was enough noise and light to catch everyone’s attention for a moment, allowing for a very temporary pause as Echo’s voice boomed across the room.

“Get out!” he shouted, standing on the seat next to you, blasters in hand. “Take this kriffing garbage somewhere else!” You were in shock, watching the various reactions across the faces before you. A good few of them took the opportunity to do just that, making their getaway before it escalated any further. But a few hard-headed beefcakes threw a couple more punches before advancing toward Echo. 

“Come on,” you said fearfully, pulling at his arm again as he stepped down beside you in a wide, prepared stance. 

“Yeah, listen to your tasty little friend,” the leader of the group teased, “Or we might have to teach both of you a lesson.” Echo bristled, head lowering slightly, and you could feel the rage emanating off of him. 

“Don’t,” you pleaded, feeling frantic.

“Can’t turn away now,” Echo responded without looking away from the few hooligans with smug grins on their faces, drawing closer with every step. Your heart was pounding in your chest, mouth completely dry at the thought of him getting hurt, even though you knew he put his life on the line on a regular basis. You began looking around for something, anything that might change the course of action. But then it all happened at once. 

Two of them leapt at Echo simultaneously, but his quick dodge left them running into each other. He rushed the third with his head down, plowing into his chest and smashing him into the wall behind. His head cracked against the stone loudly, and he sank to the floor unconscious. The others were back on their feet though, fists swinging in messy anger. Echo blocked one punch, landing a blow of his own and spinning the assailant to twist his arm up behind his back before squeezing the trigger on his blaster to hit the other one squarely in the chest with a bright blue stun ray. 

A squawk of pain escaped the first and he dropped his weight to the side, pulling Echo down with him as he freed his arm. He leapt up in a flash, aiming a kick that caught Echo in the ribs as he scrambled to his own feet. The sound was sickening, and the breathless grunt that left his lips made you feel his pain in your own stomach. But he moved impossibly fast, ducking another swing and landing a rapid one-two punch that had his opponent spinning. A quick lean followed by a powerful kick sent the other man crashing through another table where he landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, unmoving except for the occasional squirm. 

Echo was breathing hard, looking around quickly at any other potential attackers. But the rest of the crowd had either cleared out or was composed of the few remaining stragglers that were doing their best to maintain the semblance of normalcy as they drinked and chatted uneasily. He clutched a hand to his ribs, wincing with a scowl on his face, and you were by his side in an instant. 

“It’s fine,” he said automatically as you touched his shoulder, face radiating concern and affection that you just couldn’t hide anymore. You were relieved that he was alright, and as your pulse slowly returned to normal, you realized you were also completely in awe of his capability in a way that felt like more than just… awe… You were trying to find the words 

But you were interrupted by an angry-sounding tromping down the stairs from the street above, a sickening feeling rising in your stomach. As you saw a whole group of those same troublemakers from before, you realized who was associated with whom, and it was definitely time to go. You grabbed Echo’s arm, pulling him with surprising force toward Cid’s office. As he assessed the situation, you could see the indignation and anger on his face, but he ultimately allowed you to pull him away. When the office door whooshed shut behind you, you frantically tapped on the keypad to lock it from the inside. 

“I know you could take them all,” you began, turning around to face him. He was standing, but leaning on the edge of Cid’s desk, face grumpy as he rubbed a hand across his ribs. “But it’s not worth it. There’s an endless supply of idiocy like that around here – you’re going to put a target on your back.” 

“It’s just ridiculous that–” came his angry reply, but you stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a suddenness that surprised yourself. 

“I know,” you repeated, softly this time as his exhilarating proximity registered in your brain and body. “Sorry…” you admitted, casting about for words, “I just…” You faltered, trying to explain something you were only just now fully realizing for yourself. “Are your ribs broken?” 

The change of subject took his attention for a moment, and he felt the ridges and grooves with tentative fingers. He breathed in slowly, flinching when his lungs expanded to a certain point, and slowly let it out, raising his eyes to yours. “Maybe a little crack,” he said, the bitterness in his voice unfettered by the waves of pain. 

“You get into fights often?” you asked, lowering your hand from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. 

“Not if I don’t have to,” he answered, and you arched an eyebrow in response. “Alright, I know I didn’t have to say anything, but… it’s just not right…” His mutter trailed off as he shrugged, turning away in what might have been shame. You felt your heart swell in your chest at his sense of integrity, trying to find words to express it without completely giving away the depth of your feelings, but the beep of his comm interrupted your search.

Havoc 4, come in.  

He pulled it from his belt, lifting it to his mouth with an apologetic glance to you. “Go ahead.”

There appears to be a significant disturbance in the area of Cid’s parlor, according to the local surveillance network. What is your location?

“Yeah, there was a bar fight, Tech. It’s fine, it’s over now.”

That is not what I asked.

“I’m at Cid’s,” Echo snapped, rolling his eyes at the pert voice on the line. “I told you, it’s fine.”

The comm was silent for a moment, and you met Echo’s gaze with a small, compassionate smile. 

Understood. The ship is located in its usual docking bay, should anyone there require medical attention. 

A click and a beep signaled the disconnect, and the smirk on Echo’s face had you puzzled for a moment. 

“What?” you asked, unable to hold it back.

“‘S just karking annoying when he knows more than he should,” he grumbled, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. He sighed, looking up at you as though he were fully realizing your softness, your lingering touches, and your blatant concern and admiration. He opened his mouth for a moment as though trying to decide what to say, then slowly closed it, regarding you evenly. You swallowed, suddenly wildly aware of every single muscle in your body, and tried to arrange your features into a neutral expression. 

“”What?” Now it was his turn to ask, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head at you. 

“What?” you echoed, eyes wide and innocent as you looked at him with the look of one accused. 

“What… uh… What are you… so concerned… about?” The smirk was fading into a slight insecurity of his own. You took a deep breath, cheeks flushed red as your heart continued to race. Something about the thrill of it all and the sudden vulnerability in this private room had you reeling, with long-restrained feelings brimming at the surface and threatening to spill over. 

“You,” you whispered, lowering your eyes and chewing on your thumb nail. “I care… about you.”

His own heart skipped a beat at your admission – something he had suspected, no – hoped for – yet felt entirely unworthy to believe. He rose to his feet, a cringe flashing across his face before he became still again, staring intently at your eyes. “You do?” he asked, voice husky and quiet now, disarmed entirely. 

His tone was soothing and inviting, and the thinly-veiled vulnerability was entirely irresistible. Buoyed by the adrenaline of the evening and the thrill of the situation before you, you took a step closer, lifting your other hand to rest on his chest. Leaning in slightly, you touched your forehead to his, smiling at his sharp inhale and the subsequent closing of his eyes that completely melted your heart. You were helplessly entranced, and you brushed your fingers along his jaw before resting them on the back of his shoulder as you pulled yourself close. 

Your lips met with a feather-light touch that sent sparks flying immediately. Your heart thrilled at the sensation, body exploding with euphoric tingles, and you pulled back quickly, keeping your foreheads together but remaining frozen in joyous disbelief otherwise. He let out a slow breath, as if soaking up every single second, then stepped back a few inches, opening his eyes to gaze at you in awe and disbelief and wonder and delight. 

“Sorry if that was… uh…” you began, but he shook his head immediately, curling his fingers gently under your chin and touching the pad of his thumb to your lips to silence the rest. 

“It wasn’t,” he said, eyes intent. “Unless… It was a mistake, or–”

“No no no,” you laughed, standing slightly straighter as he dropped his hand from your lips to your waist. “Why would it be a mistake?” He shrugged, casting his gaze off to the side with a sudden expression of sheepish disdain that you were wildly curious. Giving him a slight nudge, you pressed, “Echo?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, unwillingly meeting your eyes. “I just… didn’t think people saw me that way…” He fell silent, the magnitude of his words settling on your heart, heavy with compassion. You stepped back in, nestling yourself against his chest, and brushed your lips against his cheek as you whispered near his ear. 

“Let me show you how I see you.”

In an uncharacteristic burst of courage, you looped both arms around his neck, bringing your lips to his with ardent intentionality. He stiffened for a split second before relaxing into your embrace, sliding his own arm around your waist and digging the other into your hair at the base of your neck. You felt as though you could swoon as he held you so effortlessly, and you tilted your head as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss with a whisper-soft sigh. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested a hand on it, feeling relieved that it matched your own frantic pulse rate. 

You kissed again and again, changing the angle, adding the tiny stroke of a tongue or the hungry tug of a lip. He seemed to grow before you, his presence expanding with an alluring mix of dumbfounded surprise that framed a strength, resolve, and passion that made your knees weak. His hands roved gently across your body, caressing you against him as his open--mouthed kisses grew messier. The sensation of his lips on yours, his taste filling your mind and sparkling with the sensation of his hands gliding along your skin… you had a fleeting concern that you may have died and gone to heaven. 

But the dreamy reverie was broken suddenly as he pulled back, breathing hard and sucking in air as though his life depended on it. He drew the back of one hand across his mouth, one last shuddering breath escaping before he settled into a quiet, blissful smile. 

“Didn’t think people saw you that way…” you scoffed in playful jest, shaking your head in utter disbelief. 

“Well, I’ve been somewhat convinced that it’s untrue,” he returned evenly, the suggestive smolder in his gaze sending a warmth blossoming between your legs. 

“Only somewhat?: you repeated with a grin. 

“Somewhat,” he answered, cupping your face and leaning in again.

@wolffegirlsunite @littlefeatherr @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @foreverdaydreamingxo @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom @dukeoftheblackstar @clio3kantarella @goblininawig @the-hexfiles @1vlouds @sunshinesdaydream @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @ughhhhfoff @coraex @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @gt13tbbart @523rdrebel @ghostperson69 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @secondaryrealm @rain-on-kamino @hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @dangraccoon @sev-on-kamino @cloneloverrrrr @kashasenpai @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink @stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @littlemissmanga @eyecandyeoz @dhawerdaverd @ladylucksrogue @thiswitchloves9904

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The movement to ban Republicans from using public bathrooms is launched. : [Thanks Robert Scott Horton]

* * * *

[from Anne Lamott]

I have located my pink pussy cap but am not yet ready to put it back on. These things take time. A whole week passed after the election before I could turn on CNN. My personal husband has a tool he promotes The Things I Do Every Day, and once again, I wrote out my list: Prayer, chores, meditation, my animals, friendship, walks, a little writing, a nap in the late afternoon,

Also, I live by Auden’s advice: Trust in God, take short views, and read the New Yorker. (I am sure he meant to include People magazine, and Us.)

When I feel most like a walking personality disorder, I go to meetings of other people who have somehow, miraculously gotten and stayed sober, and other meetings for people with tiny control issues and the disease of good ideas for other people, usually family, and one other group of people like me who have eaten entire carrot cakes in their car in parking lots.

(I am addicted to almost everything, except gambling, although I do get a thrill loading dollar bills into change machines, when the quarters drop down, often getting more change than I need.) (It’s really sad.)

I also go to church every Sunday and five days after the election, I drove to the east Bay with my friend Teri. The sermon, projected on the screen behind the pulpit, was called You Must Have Forgotten Who You Are.

And I had. I’m a news junkie who couldn’t look at the news, someone for whom reading has been the great love of my life, who couldn’t read the papers or Twitter or get lost in a book. Someone who rises up in protest against war and political madness. An agitated, self-righteous woman of peace and love.

But I noticed a few things,

I noticed that I was not alone. I was with a dear if cranky friend, the single most Jewish and lesbianic person I’ve ever know, with whom I ride to church every Sunday. Our shoulders were touching.

And I was in what Martin Luther King called the beloved community, a rich, gathering of people who were singing their pain, and their gratitude and faith, their hopes, focused not on their grieving, terrified selves but on the sweet, sweet shepherd of their lives, and other people’s hurts.

I started remembering who I was, not in my head but in those connections— a dear friend, my community, and the sacred. I could breathe again in a way that I hadn’t since November 6h. This little church starts the service with Sacred Breath from the pulpit, where we all close our eyes and breathe in holiness, as one. Of course, I’m sitting there going, Breathe in God’s love—my butt itches, I wonder if I left the back door open and the kitty got out, and the coyotes ate her—deep breath out—I’m so happy to be there, that woman should wash her hair more, my butt still itches. But when all else fails, follow instructions, right? So I breathed.

In her sermon, the minister made a passing reference to Jesus’s admonition that when injured, we turn the other cheek. Some theologians think that turning the other cheek is actually an act of civil disobedience- a protest, of sorts, standing firm in what we believe in—to do what is right, which in the end always means love. This is so subversive, to take injury and say, You don’t decide who I am.

But when does the resistance to the rising tide of Christian Nationalism begin? My darling friend, the writer Douglas Foster had texted me that morning: “It already has. Pro immigrant organizations burgeoning in every city. Big philanthropic moves to clothe, feed and house people. Lots of examples of new public housing and mental health provisions seeking to scale up, support groups for women, and families with trans kids who will need help getting to places where their health care needs will be met. You, me, a bunch of others.”

After church, Teri and I always eat sandwiches as we drive home, the sacrament of peanut butter and jelly, possibly my favorite food, the sacred elements of dark bread, creaminess, sweetness. We unwrapped our sandwiches, tapped each other’s food in a toast, no pun intended. Cheers. And it was good.

Anne Lamott

[kiwiwinjindouche]

Nightmares From the Void: a horror Dishonored AU

(unless this title is already taken by something else or idk sfwjdwmfjdj i've not found anything? but let me know if it does)

I've talked about it a little some time ago, and even if I have to figure out more things (this is really getting out of hands), I have some bits to share!

Putting all this under a 'read more' cuz this is going to be a huge post.

I'd love to have your thoughts about it, if you feel like it!! <3

Quick description:

This may be a Horror!AU, but it’s definitely not just “OOOO JUMPSCARES AND GORE”. Horror isn’t just that, you know? And the best part about this is looking for references and more information because this is so interesting and so much better than just blood and viscera everywhere. I really wanted them to have their own little vibe, despite everything, and playing with the different kinds of horrors and fears. This all needs a bit more thinking yet, I’m sure, but I really like it so far.

There’re uh, changes, and maybe I’m thinking this too much like a third person game? I don’t know, maybe in first person it’d still look great.

This is just about Dishonored 2 (for now, at least?), and I mostly though about the main villains, to be honest. But as time goes by (and as I’m writing this post), I want to explore the other areas too.

I find some of the ideas a bit too obvious, somehow, but eeehhh :fingerguns: My mindset was kinda 'how could we go further, and into the horror genre, than this?"

After the ritual to bring back Delilah, in 1849, powers from the Void started to spread into Aramis’ mansion, crawling into the veins of those who were here. They slowly turned them into more monstrous versions of themselves. The closer to the ritual you were, the bigger the impact the Void had on you. Some of the guards got infected as well, but way less than the main crew. Memories of alternative lives flashed through them too.

Differences for the coup crew:

Mission 1: A Long Day in Dunwall

Enemies: /

Description: Something feels off, as a puppet-ish Luca arrives. Then, Delilah appears, and the crowd is horrified by her look and all the vines and flowers.

Additional notes: Delilah can flee with Alexi’s corpse, so the player must fight her later as an undead.

Boss battle: Ramsey is not affected by the Void, so nothing changes.

Mission 3: The Good Doctor

Type of horror: Kind of slasher, ‘virus’, body horror

Enemies: The guards are infected with bloodflies and mushrooms (? Virus?). They technically are undead and immortal, but weak. They can be killed for good with fire. Guards + Bloodflies.

Description: The player tries to escape Grim Alex’s grip. They can carry a torch to keep her away.

Additional notes: There are a torch, blueprints and upgrades regarding fire equipment in Vasco’s belongings.

Boss battle: First, the player must find the main nest of the bloodflies and burn it. Grim Alex follows the player, and she can control the bloodflies. If the player tries to kill her, her body gets infested with bloodflies and she charges back. She is afraid of fire. Her fight only has one phase, and the player either helps her with the serum or kills her for good.

Why this? Because Alexandria is already kind of infected by something, and I think she should be a bit more unhinged when you face her. I decided to go with a wendigo/rake vibe for her. She follows you everywhere you go, and you can’t really get rid of her if you don’t have fire. Everything feels more organic yet dead at the same time. There should be a spark of hope somewhere, though.

Inspirations: RE / TLOU / Redead / Scorn / Outlast / Bloodborne

Mission 4: The Clockwork Mansion

Type of horror: Psychological

Enemies: Cyborgs and clockworks. The guards are a bit weaker than the original soldiers, but they can share some capabilities. Guards + Clockworks.

Description: A kind of Hide and Seek in the mansion. The player gets knock out at the beginning and must find their stuff.

Additional notes: Sokolov is saved after the fight. They are eyes on the wall.

Boss battle: The player fights Kirin in his laboratory. He is waiting for them and jumps on his greatest clockwork (a huge one). First, the player fights the robot. Phase two, the fight is taking place beneath the laboratory, in the basement, room of the generator. The player can tear Kirin’s artificial arms/legs apart. The final move is pushing him against the generator and watching him getting electroshocked. Either it kills him or not is up to the player, depending on the power of the shock (player can get to the room before the battle).

Why this? I was thinking about more clockworks and mechanical things. In fact, the starting point of all this was for Kirin to build cyborgs too. Then, the idea of him having bugs features came to me, as a reference to him tearing their legs and such. But then, and as much as I wanted to avoid the spider thing, Kirin playing with you, as you try to escape his mansion (his web) sounded more fitting.

Inspirations: Lies of P / Shining / Bacterial Contamination / BG3 (Malus) / Mimic / Nosk / DrOctopus

Mission 5: The Royal Conservatory

Type of horror: Paranormal and jump scares

Enemies: Zombies and stuffed animals. The guards are slower but hit harder. Guards + Witches + Animals.

Description:

Additional notes: Lots of illusions. Aggressive skulls. Moving around through mirrors.

Boss battle: The player has the option to fight a big cursed plush to get the defective lens. With each hit the doll takes, it loses a member part (leg, arm…) and the player must destroy them too before they go back to the doll. Then, mirror labyrinth to get to Breanna, while the player is followed by zombies. Breanna’s fight takes place in a room surrounded by mirrors too. If the player goes behind the scenes before phase two, they can use the defective lens and remove Breanna’s powers, leading them to the non-lethal ending. Phase two, she is mostly stronger than before, but also helped by the doll if the player didn’t destroy it earlier.

Why this? I had the idea of zombies for Breanna for a long time. Again, just thinking about “how could we go further?” But zombies weren’t enough. And then I thought ‘well, there’re also a ton of dead animals there’. I also wanted to find something revolving around the lenses, or rather, glasses, hence the mirrors, and the illusions. As for the cursed plush, we already know witches have some voodoo plushies they use from time to time, so I thought it was a good reference to this too.

Inspirations: Twilight Princess (Blizzeta) / Collector (Hollow Knight)

Mission 7: A Crack in the Slab

Type of horror: Liminal spaces and gothic horror

Enemies: Ghosts. The guards don’t attack the player unless player attacks them first. They have 1 hp and respawn at each time switch. Guards.

Description: The player travels through Aramis’ mind. They must find all the broken memory pieces to restore Aramis’ health and spirit. The player starts with a 45 minutes chrono. After 15 minutes, the level starts to fall apart. The player can use clocks and hourglasses to slow or speed time.

Additional notes: The level falls apart, much like Aramis’ mind. Clocks, hourglasses. Maybe some enigmas. The player still can’t use their powers.

Boss battle: Race against time. The player must travel through past and present to stop the boss – who is TBD still (a strange chimera? And echo of Luca?). To help Aramis fully recover, the player must defeat it. Else, they can either decide to kill him or let him stay insane.

Why this? What better than liminal spaces and fear of the nothing for Aramis? His mind is falling apart, and so is the level. You must be a bit quick into this labyrinth. As I’m writing this, this needs some more thinking, but maybe thanks to a new power (or simply, a better ‘Possession’) you can go to Aramis’ mind instead of just wondering around his mansion. The idea stays the same, but still.

Inspirations: Backrooms / Crys Tales / Poes

Mission 8: The Grand Palace

Type of horror: Survival…?

Enemies: Puppets. The guards are more agile, dodge more the attacks. Guards.

Description:

Additional notes: Show off. The player must repair the false duke and the pieces are all around the palace. Inspired by the royalty and the Game. Some puppets and guards wear masks. There are music boxes in the palace (around the ballroom). Puppet and some bits of flesh.

Boss battle: Luca waits for the player in his ballroom, where they find multiple false dukes dancing with the ‘guests’. They must find the right one and defeat him. They can also be helped by a dysfunctional puppet they must repair first – Armando. Then, Luca twisted and turns into a giant puppet with wacky movements.

Why this? So, this might be the less ‘horror’ one, somehow. Depends on if you are fine with getting surrounded by puppets or not. But why puppets? Because Luca longs for control. He is creating himself a perfect little world where everyone will obey him. And yet, he is one of them, because Delilah is already using him. I had in mind a ballroom, more excessive and unnecessary shows off. He is rich, he is powerful, he doesn’t care about the others.

Inspirations: Little Nightmares / Steelrising (ambient) / Skull kid puppets / Nutcracker

Mission 9: Death to the Empress

Type of horror: Analog horror and strange imagery, a bit of dark fantasy but tiny bit

Enemies: A bit of everything and living paintings. The guards are moving when the player is not watching. The paintings can catch and block the player, attack them or simply scare them. Guards + Witches + Clockworks + Paintings.

Description:

Additional notes:

Boss battle: First, the player fights her outside, but there are other living paintings that attack them. Every weakness moment of Delilah, the player can reunite her with her soul. Then, she runs into her perfect world, the player shall follow her, but instead they find a crying Jessamine. They have a small chat together, until the player realizes it’s Delilah using her powers to stab where it hurts. The player then fights Delilah, but with Jessamine’s appearance. Lastly, Delilah charges a final blow, and statues are attacking the player. They must survive a certain amount of time. Then, the final blow explodes and both her and the player are thrown out of the painting. The player wakes up before she does, and either they decide to kill her or not by messing with the ritual.

Why this? Well, I know analog horror is also about found footage and doesn’t suit Dishonored, but the weird imagery looks just fine for a painter. Also, what about moving statues? Surely this is not new, and not all of them would move obviously.

Inspirations: Mandela Catalogue / A Hat in Time / Layers of fear / Canvas Curse (Drawcia)

And that's ... almost it? Wait, could this be... what's up there???

Epilogue: Secret Meeting

Type of horror: Cosmic horror

Description: If the player found all the runes and bonecharms throughout the game, after the credits they appear in the Void. The Outsider comes to them to talk about their run, their choices, and asks them if they wish to see his true form. Then, the player can decide to fight him.

Why this? Because I wanted to add cosmic horror to the list! And the Outsider is already kind of that, the Void is a space beyond true comprehension and such. I still have to figure out his ‘true form’ as a powerful being.

Inspirations: Lovecraft

AND NOW, that's about it so far! As you can see, some things still need a good thinking and such, to be worked on. I've also started to think about a playlist, but I'm not sure about it yet and this is going to be for later. There'll definitely be more to it, I just don't know when lol.

THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU'VE READ IT ALL, it means a lot!!!! 💗​💗​💗​

[danganronpa-21]

Rating: Mature Audiences

General Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sex

Fandoms: Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak Academy

Relationships: Makoto Naegi/Kyoko Kirigiri

Additional Tags: Post-Danganronpa 3: Hope Arc, Embarrassing Moments, Making Out, Teasing & Flirting, Kyoko Kirigiri being a lil sass pot, Just a heads up that this is a little saucier than what I usually write but it’s still pretty tame

Word Count: 4,075 words

Story Summary: Kyoko decides to take advantage of her boyfriend's free time at work. Byakuya, unfortunately, gets caught in the cross fire of this incident.

[Read it on AO3.]

Kyoko has a keen awareness of her boyfriend’s current… free time.

Well, if you asked him, he would tell you that the time wasn’t really all that free. Just because he wasn’t in a meeting or handling student issues didn’t mean that he had all the time in the world. There was still plenty to do as the headmaster of a school like Hope’s Peak, one that had a myriad of talented but trouble-seeking students. Somehow, even with the end of the Tragedy and the abolishment of the Reserve Course/Main Course system, that little thing never seemed to change. She knows Makoto doesn’t mind it. He never would. After all, the kids who attend Hope’s Peak now probably had to grow up much faster than they should have because of what they had seen. The least he could do was let them be creative, wild, and fun – even if that ultimately was more paperwork for him.

Paperwork. That was usually his something, the thing that would make him insist that he had no free time – not even for his beautiful, beloved girlfriend.

It isn’t as if Kyoko is utterly deprived by her boyfriend, nor does she have an appetite for him so insatiable that she just never seems to have had enough of him. No, neither of those things are the problem. It’s just that, for whatever reason, the danger of wanting to be with him here at work is so much more. She likes that even the casual showing of affection between the two of them is forbidden. She’s never been so scandalous as to go past anything but a kiss, but even that, she is not permitted to take. Both she and her boyfriend are responsible for engaging in the utmost professionalism while Hope’s Peak is in their care, and while Kyoko completely understands why, she finds that it doesn’t stop her from this wanting.

The fact that she cannot control the wanting, no matter how hard she may try, is why she is headed to Makoto’s office now.

Improper it may be, but sometimes, a woman just needs to kiss her boyfriend and not care who is watching.

This is the thought she keeps in mind as she struts towards her boyfriend’s office. What can she say? She loves the thrill. Life has become so quaint since they opened Hope’s Peak, and although she won’t take it for granted given everything they’ve been through… She can’t help but want to add a bit of zest to their lives. Nothing that will hurt, but just… something that will make both their hearts beat a little faster. The thought almost makes her giggle like a meek schoolgirl.

The halls of Hope’s Peak are eerily quiet, save for the sound of her high-heeled boots clacking against the tiled floors and the faint voices of teachers instructing their students just beyond the hallway’s walls. The school is not yet populous enough to be filled with a great deal of noise, but there is some, and Kyoko cannot help but enjoy what she can hear as she makes her way down the hall. The students may in theory be keeping her from her boyfriend, but the joy of them having a future is enough to make her forgive them for that. Besides, it’s not like at this point she is open to being deterred from what she wants.

Her walk down the hallway is quick and simple, not interfered with. Perhaps it’s her intimidating gaze or the strength of her gait, but even those who do cross her path don’t seem particularly interested in stopping her for a conversation or even sparing her a glance of acknowledgement. Their heads dip down and they just keep walking, and for a moment, she wonders if they think she must be on her way to scold the headmaster for something. Though he is higher up in the scholastic food chain by a mile, given that she is only part-timing to focus on detective work, the students all seem to get the impression that she completely dominates him. It’s not something she is unused to people assuming, mind you, considering her serious personality and his gentle, cheerful one. Every once in a while, she even hears rumours that it’s truly she who is calling the shots, and Makoto is just the nice man making everything happen.

If only they knew that I call the shots behind closed doors, too, she thinks with a smirk.

She tries not to let her amusement show too greatly as she makes her way down the hall. That would surely ruin her strict, serious image. Besides, to capture Makoto at his best moment, she has to have a particular demeanour about it – anything else would tamper with her plans. She keeps her face straight and her eyes locked forward, marching confidently towards her mission. As she comes upon the doors to the Headmaster’s Office, she finds that she doesn’t even bother knocking before prying them open. As soon as she can see through even the slightest crack, she catches a glimpse of Makoto and notices how he immediately perks up. How cute. His face only seems to light up in further interest when he realizes who it is coming to keep him company. She has to fight not to giggle as she slips into the room with ease, closing the door tightly behind her. Nobody needs to know that she is disturbing the headmaster’s peace. This little moment, it can stay private between the two of them.

“Kyoko?” Makoto says, staring at her from across the way with this innocently curious expression on his face that honestly kind of makes her heart melt. Once upon a time, it would have horrified her to turn into pudding over a man, but now, she’s a little more comfortable embracing her affections. After all, Makoto isn’t just any man. “I’m surprised to see you here. Is everything okay?”

It’s all Kyoko can do to keep a neutral face when she stops dead, staring him right in the eyes. “Take off your clothes.”

Makoto’s flesh turns fifteen different shades of crimson in a matter of four seconds. That has to be some kind of world record, she thinks amusedly to herself.

“W-What?!” He sputters, slack-jawed, unable to believe what his partner has just said to him.

There might have been more, had she the self-control to keep it going, but the sight of his rose-red face is too funny to bear. She can’t help but snicker at the sight, her lips cracking into a warm smile. Makoto is just so much fun to tease – and, thankfully, he’s a good sport about it, too. As soon as he realizes that she’s played a joke on him, he starts laughing along, too. The relief on his face is instant as he wipes his brow with the back of his arm.

“You’re… rotten, Kyoko Kirigiri,” he half-snickers, dropping his pen on the desk, “You really had me there.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, not sounding nor feeling sorry at all, “I couldn’t help myself. You really are an open book.”

Makoto shrugs, leaning forward on the desk. His face is still pinkish in places, but the embarrassment is fading, and even with that in place, he is still unbearably charming to her. He’s adorable when he’s flustered, but still so sweet on the eyes in his natural state, too. How is she supposed to maintain a professional decorum around this man when he’s just so delightful to be around?

It sounds silly, she supposes, when you put it like that – but it’s just the truth, as far as she’s concerned. She feels like a smitten schoolgirl somedays. It’s embarrassing and electrifying all at the same time.

Makoto seems to only shake his head at her teasing, heaving a sigh as if to ask what he’s going to do with her. It is not the first time the two of them have gone on like this, not by a long shot, and Kyoko can’t help but love how familiar it all feels. Their relationship is still young, but it makes it feel like they’ve been together for years.

“Is there a reason you want to come see me, Kirigiri-san?”

Kyoko raises her eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Kirigiri-san?” she parrots, folding her arms across her chest. Just a minute ago it was the much more familiar Kyoko, and now…? Oh, he can try and make this business-like all he pleases, but she came here on a much different kind of business. Makoto must notice the hint of coyness in her voice, because his smile begins to melt and turn a bit sheepish.

“W-Well, it’s… this is a school, and nobody really knows about us yet,” he laughs, “If anyone heard us acting too close, they might get the wrong idea.”

She quirks a brow. “And who do you think is eavesdropping on us?” she looks around the room, a small part of her – a more paranoid part – almost wondering if he has a point. Cameras loved them once. Who's to say that they wouldn’t again? “There is no one here but us. The things that go on behind closed doors are our business.”

Feeling her heart skip a beat, she takes this opportunity to move closer to her partner. Her walk is meant to be sultry as she struts to his side, but her lacking experience in the area of seduction just makes her feel a bit stupid. Thankfully, she is Makoto’s only experience with a woman intending to pursue him, so he turns into a bit of a puddle for her anyway. His face warms as she approaches, and when she places a hand on the back of his office chair, leaning over him so her long lavender hair hangs down over top of him, she can actually hear his breath hitch. She loves it. His eyes are clouded with a mixture of excitement and worry, and she knows that he must get butterflies in his stomach when she opens her mouth to speak once more.

“There is no one here but you and I, Makoto. This free time that you have, it’s just for us.”

Makoto actually gulps. She swears she sees his eyes flick to the door briefly, like he’s worried that someone is going to barge in. “F-For us?”

She nods. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I never see you.” she struts herself right in front of him, and for a moment, she contemplates plopping herself right down on his lap… but something about that just feels a bit too scandalous. She opts to hop right up on his desk instead, not really thinking about the fact that that might not be much better. She tilts her head teasingly at him. “Surely you can make some time for your significant other, can’t you?”

The sweat must be beading on Makoto’s skin now. He pushes himself to his feet, although he doesn’t seem exactly sure why he does it. For a moment, just a flicker of a moment, it looks as if he might want to protest – push her away, remind her that she’s supposed to be the more responsible one of the two of them – but it dies. Instead, his eyes can do nothing but fall to her lips, looking dazed and confused.

“I… I thought…?”

“You thought what?”

“You’re not, like, propositioning me right now, right?”

“For what?”

“For…” his face reddens again. “I thought we talked about not being ready for that right now.”

Kyoko scrunches up her nose, almost as if disgusted by the prospect. “I’m not propositioning you for that, no.”

The worry fades just a bit, and she notices him start to nibble on his lip ever so slightly. He doesn’t know what’s going to come out of her mouth next – she can tell. She wonders if he’s enjoying the uncertainty. “B-But for something, yeah?”

She sighs and shakes her head, gesturing him over to her. “Just hold your tongue for a minute and kiss me.”

Makoto’s eyes widen for a second, processing the information. The moment he does, however, he follows her instructions with ease. Rushing over, he is now just about at her level, his hand slipping along the underside of her jaw, tilting her head towards him a bit for better access to her lips. She tips her head up a bit to help, and tries not to smile to herself at how grateful he seems for the assistance. Makoto is a pleasant but inexperienced kisser. He likes to try extra hard to make his kisses good.

When he connects their lips, she’s almost surprised by how warm they are. In the midst of a chilly winter, the presence of his warmth is more than a little welcome. It pairs well with the taste – caramel and espresso, perhaps even a hint of whipped cream, although she recognizes that she could be imagining that part. Makoto is the only man she’s met who is so comfortable with ordering a caramel macchiato, but tasting it here on his lips, she finds she can understand what he’s talking about when he says it truly is the best coffee drink. Sweet, and warm… just like him. Soft, too. Soft like his smile, soft like his heart, are his lips. She used to think boys would have unkempt lips, cracked and unpleasant… but Makoto’s were always soft to the point of being almost silken. At times, kissing him felt so perfect that it was almost like it was unreal. Why else would she put herself at the mercy of being caught if she didn’t love it this much?

Her heart swells with affection as his fingers tangle in her hair, tucking some of the silvery-purple strands behind her ear as he deepens their kiss. She hums appreciatively. He’s taken the tips she’s given him. She can’t help but smile against him. She never used to think she would be able to feel such happiness, yet now, the two of them are infinitely together, infinitely connected… In this context, the two of them kissing would be considered so improper, but if it’s really that big of a deal, why does it feel so right? This is all Kyoko can think about, all she can dream of, as she parts her lips to allow Makoto’s tongue to slip into her mouth. Everything about this moment is too perfect, and she could stay in it forever if fate would allow her to. This is all she wanted today – just a flawless moment with her boyfriend, the one man who had destroyed her preconceptions of love. If fate could allow her that, then that was all she needed.

Unfortunately, however, fate finds a disciple in Byakuya Togami.

The door swings open in the blink of an eye. Neither Makoto nor Kyoko has a chance to react or resist as it does. It swings open large and wide, with no discretion or thought given to it, the perfect embodiment of Byakuya and his callous nature. At any other time, she might leap up to break apart from Makoto, but the realization hits her so slowly she doesn’t have the time. Kyoko would swear on her grandfather’s life that she didn’t hear Byakuya’s footsteps coming down the hall, nor did she know that he would have business with Makoto at this hour. She had no idea about him also sharing the gap in his schedule. Her main focus, and quite frankly her only concern, was that Makoto had this free time.

It's what makes it all the more aggravating that Byakuya reacts in loud, disapproving disgust.

“Ugh!”

Makoto breaks off the kiss the second he hears Byakuya’s voice, his face flushing bright red once more. At this point, she’s wondering if he may end up staying like that permanently. Out of the corner of her eye, Kyoko can see her plum-coloured lipstick smudged on Makoto’s mouth. Were the situation less compromising, she might have laughed, yet with Byakuya’s eyes boring into them…

“Of all the-! What is the matter with you two?!” He stomps his foot on the ground like a child, or an employer infuriated with his insubordinate employees. He probably sees them as the latter, if she had to guess. Still, even with this thought in her head, she notices that he seems unable to hide his own embarrassment. The tips of his ears, much like Makoto’s entire face, are tinged pink, and he seems to be darting his eyes around everywhere but their faces. Much as he might dislike admitting it, they are his friends. Even for him, this must stir some odd feelings. It’s no secret to her that many of their companions don’t think of them as sexual beings. They do like to make jokes about their current absence of a sex life. “This is extremely unprofessional!”

Kyoko’s lips press into a flat line. In the back of her mind, she knows that some part of Byakuya is right. There really is a lot to be said about employees, particularly two educators, who seem utterly incapable of keeping their hands off each other. That being said, he is the one who rudely shoved the door open without so much as a single knock. He just assumed Makoto should have this time available to him because he thought that it was free on his schedule. She contemplates laying into him for that in an effort to save face. Truth be told, she doesn’t care much that they’ve been caught, considering it was only by Byakuya, but she knows it will bother Makoto. That is the only reason she even considers trying to reason with their friend.

“It’s… um…” Makoto stammers, reminding her of an anime character just bulleting with sweat, “Well, I… I can… explain…?”

The nervous chuckle he lets out, combined with the scratching at his cheek, makes Kyoko think that that would be unlikely. He looks like he could sweat right through his suit. She could see him fitting in in a sauna right about now.

“Explain what, exactly?” Byakuya snaps. “There is no good reason for you two to… to… To be so brazenly sucking face in the middle of your work day! Have you no shame?”

“That’s quite enough, Togami-kun,” Kyoko scolds, long before she can actually consider whether or not she wants to let him keep going. Without interrupting, they’ll get by easier, but at the same time, she dislikes the way he’s speaking to them. They most definitely were not kissing hard enough to qualify as “sucking face”. Tongue-kissing? Maybe, but there was no face-eating involved, and she intends to make that very clear to him. “Perhaps you have learned your lesson now about knocking before you go opening doors?”

Byakuya clutches his chest in offence. “Me?! You were the ones who-”

Kyoko folds her arms across her chest, sliding off Makoto’s desk to stand and fully face her accuser. This is not the first time that the two of them have engaged in a battle of wits, nor will it be the last, but she knows that in order to win this one, she must look him straight in the eye. Then, and only then, will he start to falter. It is crucial that she make that signature Kirigiri glare work for her once more.

“Who were having a private moment of passion which you so rudely interrupted by bursting through the door.”

Makoto looks like he wants to speak, to add something of substance to the conversation that they are having, but he seems to know well enough to keep his mouth shut. With his level of humiliation, he is in no condition to help Kyoko against Byakuya, nor cut down what Byakuya is saying about him and Kyoko. He is best to just sit and watch, look and listen. Like a good boy, he understands that.

“Certainly you must understand the importance of privacy, Togami-kun. I don’t imagine Mr. Pennyworth came bursting through your door anytime he pleased. You must extend the same courtesy to Makoto and myself. We certainly wouldn’t go bursting through your door.”

Byakuya grits his teeth. “You’re deflecting, you vile little minx.”

Minx, Kyoko thinks. That is new. He has never called me that before. She is not offended. Byakuya’s insults scarcely mean much of anything. They just fly out of his mouth as easily as air goes in.

“Deflecting from what, exactly? Your lack of manners?” She taps her chin. “I think we should be able to forgive you for your transgression, but I surely think we will struggle more if you refuse to let bygones be bygones.”

Byakuya releases a low growl from somewhere in his throat. It reminds her a bit of an animal, but it is not vicious enough to tell her anything other than he is preparing to back down.

“Come now, Togami-kun. You’re embarrassing Makoto.��� She shakes her head. “I just wanted a moment alone with my boyfriend. Are you really going to shame us for that? You must understand how important it is for a couple to be together.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He huffs, folding his own arms across his chest. “Utterly ridiculous. Fix your conduct, next time, instead of trying to use that silver tongue of yours on me.”

Kyoko chuckles softly, brushing some hair out of her face. “But I thought you believed me to be using my silver tongue on Makoto?”

She feels her boyfriend lightly jab her in the ribs for that comment. She doesn’t care. The way Byakuya’s face lights up like a firecracker is too amusing for her to just shove away. The shock of the statement strikes him so badly that he actually has to turn away. Makoto will forgive her for it later.

“Naegi-kun, please inform me when Kirigiri-san departs. I have important matters to discuss with you.” Kyoko wants to laugh at how Byakuya won’t even direct his attention at her anymore. He is too busy looking as red as a tomato, shuffling around the papers he is carrying in her arms. If it were anyone else, Kyoko might have felt a bit sorry about this – but given his conduct as of late, it made for a bit of nice revenge. “Until then, I advise both of you – keep your clothes on.”

It is clear on Makoto’s face that he wants to protest the clothes comment, but Byakuya is spinning on his heel and rushing out the door before they know it. As he leaves, Kyoko contemplates calling after him a reminder to knock on the door next time, but decides against it. She’s probably gotten the poor man enough as it is. Instead, she turns her focus back to Makoto, who looks to be a cross between frustrated and sheepish.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he mutters, his shoulders slumping, “You shouldn’t have antagonized him like that.”

Kyoko shrugs. “Ideally, I wouldn’t have had to, but you know he’s not above making a scene. You’ve only just become headmaster here… It wouldn’t do for you to be dismissed in your first few months for something that wasn’t your idea.”

Makoto weighs her words in his head, seeming to understand what she is driving at. Still, that sheepish look remains on his face, like he just can’t let everything about it go. “Still… we probably shouldn’t have been making out at work.”

“Not with the door unlocked, anyway.” She finds herself staring back at that door, hand to her chin as she loses herself in thought. “I could have sworn I locked it.”

He shrugs. “Maybe the lock’s broken?”

“Maybe… That won’t do, though.”

“Hm?” Makoto quirks a brow. “Why not?”

“Well…” she turns back to him, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning in close. She brushes her nose against his, able to feel the heat radiating off him as she places herself in front of him. “I don’t think this will be the end of our little moments of stolen free time.”

Makoto gulps loudly. “B-But we just got caught…”

Kyoko smiles a devilish smile. They are still early on in their relationship, still so early on that they both struggle to think of things in a particular context, but… “Maybe that’s part of the thrill of it.”

She swears those words could have made Makoto faint.

[deathlooksgoodonyou-if]

I love the potential for angst this IF has. I simply know I will have to play it many times just based on the potential routes.

Now, as a gay man, I'll probably won't play many of the female romances (which pains me, because Jessica's route can be so toxic, angsty and interesting, I'm almost willing to concede). But, fortunately, most of the routes I wanted to try are still available to me.

Jules just feels like a route that it's better if there is homoeroticism. Well, most romantic relationships improve with homoeroticism, but that's my opinion. And their route is just so tragic, but it also can make MC go to such different character arcs. From someone who can't move on, to someone who accepts Jules is gone and begins to heal. I'm just so intrigued by Jules romance. Even if it's doomed from the start. What does this say about me? I'm not sure. Just, perhaps, that I have some things in common with MC, as Jules seems to also fascinate me.

Choi Warren is also an interesting route for me. Because it has the usual angst friends to lovers often has. But it's intensified because MC seems to be aware already of how Warren feels, but is unable as of yet to feel the same love back. Because the ghost of Jules remains. Which makes this relationship intriguing to me, it's that it technically it doesn't have any ties to Jules. Yet, he remains ever present. But there is also this aspect in which MC could just decide to settle for Warren. After all, Warren is their friend, and already loves them. And that's just so angsty.

But there is also this angst that will always be present if you don't romance Warren. Sure, he is already pining. Yet how devastating is to see the person you love not move on from their crush with you but with someone else?

Dylan's romance is probably the one I'm looking forward the most. Simply because I know it will be the most angsty there will be. Because my MC will be someone who was deeply in love with Jules. So Dylan and him (as my MC is male) will begin in a very bad place. Yet, there something so cute and cathartic about them finding love with each other when Jules, the person they both loved, was unable to give them the love they needed and sought? At the same time, there will always be this doubt about what tied them together. Is Jules still, somehow, a shadow that is with them, although he has died and should be completely gone?

Aiden intrigues me as well. Simply because I don't have a reason to romance him yet, but I like this archetype. Perhaps I just love the idea of finding consolation and happiness in someone who you just never expected to love nor trust. And isn't there such a beautiful thing about being able to trust and be dear to someone who cannot be open with anyone else but you?

As of now, I think I'll romance Dylan, Warren and Aiden in that order. But also having Jules as an ever present ghost. I'm not sure yet if I'll romance Jules alone. Since I tend to play MC's who are nice people, I just cannot condemn them to such fates.

I'm very excited about this story, as of yet mainly because of the relationships and their potential. So I'll wait for when you have more to share, as I know I want to explore what the characters have to offer. As well as see how my MC will develop.

Well, most romantic relationships improve with homoeroticism, but that's my opinion.

I feel like my anons and I share the same braincells lmao. I have added more flavour text if both the mc and Jules are of the same sex. I love the angst homosexual relationships offer in fiction.

But it's intensified because MC seems to be aware already of how Warren feels, but is unable as of yet to feel the same love back.

Haha, yes! I like childhood friends to lovers trope in IFs but the ones I have read involved the mc seeking out to be more than friends with the ro. I wanted things to be different here. How about the ro being the one seeking out mc's affection but the mc is just too fixated on someone else to notice the ro?

Because the ghost of Jules remains. Which makes this relationship intriguing to me, it's that it technically it doesn't have any ties to Jules. Yet, he remains ever present. But there is also this aspect in which MC could just decide to settle for Warren. After all, Warren is their friend, and already loves them. And that's just so angsty.

Yes! As for people whose mcs are aromantic or not into men...they can have a serious conversation about this with warren. You can choose a gentle or harsh approach. Whichever one you see fit.

Or you can continue doing what you have been doing so far. Avoiding and pretending.

But there is also this angst that will always be present if you don't romance Warren. Sure, he is already pining. Yet how devastating is to see the person you love not move on from their crush with you but with someone else?

Oh the endless suffering Warren has to face simply for being in love. First, comfort your bestie whenever things with Jules don't go well, then when Jules is finally out of the picture and he thinks that, maybe, maybe just maybe the mc will look his way this time.....someone snatches them away once again. Lol. It would really hurt him less to know that the mc is just unable to feel that kind of attraction towards him due to their sexual orientation than this.

Yet, there something so cute and cathartic about them finding love with each other when Jules, the person they both loved, was unable to give them the love they needed and sought?

Yes! Just two people who have been hurt by the same person coming together and finding a safe space in one another. (Although there is a route where you can be just as horrible as Jules to Dylan. Maybe even worse.)

But also having Jules as an ever present ghost. I'm not sure yet if I'll romance Jules alone. Since I tend to play MC's who are nice people, I just cannot condemn them to such fates.

A route i myself would have gone for, haha. But I do want people to do a complete Jules playthrough. It won't be pleasant but that is the point.

I'm very excited about this story, as of yet mainly because of the relationships and their potential. So I'll wait for when you have more to share, as I know I want to explore what the characters have to offer. As well as see how my MC will develop.

Thank you! I loved your insights! Will be looking forward to hearing your thoughts on episode one when it's released.

[supraveng]

Princess of Asgardia

Summary: You are Thor & Loki’s younger sister, unfortunately you are forced to find a husband...royalty AU

Warnings: language

Pairings: Reader x James Bucky Barnes, Reader x Clint Barton, Reader x John Walker 

Square Filled: Unrequited Love

Word Count: 6237                               Main Masterlist

A/N: @avengersbingo  my first and long over due entry to Avengers Bingo Rd 4

Sneaking out was always easier than sneaking back in, you tried your best to make it home before sunrise and today you almost made it.  Of course, luck wasn’t on your side and you knew the staff would be around so you had to decide whether to trek back through the hidden passageways or tiptoe through the main rooms of the castle without being found out.   At this time of day, neither was a great choice, but you quietly took off your shoes as you slipped through the main entrance to the palace and held your head high, as a princess should, as you passed the guards.  

No one said a word to you, most likely knowing that tattling on the princess of Asgardia at this time of day would only become more of an issue for them, putting Odin or Frigga in a bad mood first thing in the morning would be no good for anyone.  You began to relax, turning down the final hallway to your room, only to be greeted by your mother and your personal security, Brunnhilde, waiting for you.  

“Mother, what a pleasant surprise first thing in the morning” you were trying your best to avoid any questioning on your whereabouts.  

“Well, my dear, I wouldn’t be here if you were here when I came to you last night” she raised an eyebrow challenging me “and before you start formulating some plot in your head, I also asked the guards to notify me of your return.  And yet all night, not a single person in the palace knew where you were.”  

You knew you were caught, she knew you were caught and yet, you couldn’t find it in your heart to concede, “well then, it seems that I am once again the Hide & Seek victor.”  Turning and entering your room, knowing the conversation wasn’t over, but you were too tired to argue with anyone right now.  

“Before you even think about sleeping, Nebula will be here momentarily to prepare your bath, and I expect you to look presentable for breakfast with your father” you looked at your mother stunned, it’s as if she could read your mind. 

 “Why would father want to have breakfast with me when he has your beautiful face to admire?”  Unfortunately that didn’t work as you had hoped, your mother just laughed as she walked out of the room with Brunnhilde, reminding you that your flattery will get you nowhere.  

You took your time getting ready before heading to breakfast with your family, normally you wouldn't want to disappoint your parents but you had been up all night and there was little you could do to make yourself move any faster. Somehow you managed to make it to the dining hall just before your father, so you take that as a win, even if you hadn’t been able to sit before rising to greet him.  

“Well, isn’t it nice to have the whole family together, it’s been so long” Odin looked around the table and seemed happy to have you all gathered together.   You were immediately suspicious and looked to your brothers, trying to figure out what was going on.  

Loki appeared to be as concerned as you were, but Thor seemed to have his normal idiot smile on his face and seemed more interested in the food being served than anyone at the table, typical.  Rolling your eyes, you immediately grabbed your coffee mug, needing caffeine to make it through the morning in one piece.  

“Since we are all here, why don’t you tell our children about the exciting news” your mother smiled around the table before picking up her tea.  Loki immediately looked at you, you both knew something was going on and not liking it one bit.  

“Right, of course my dear.  We are hosting a gala, inviting all the surrounding kingdoms.  Oh and my darling daughter, you will have a new security detail, he will be starting this afternoon after he is finished with Quill. And I know I don't need to remind you to be on your best behavior” your father eyed you with a small smirk, knowing that a suggestion to behave was pointless for him to make but decided to do so anyway.  

You were doing your best to hide your emotions that were triggered by his statement, but watching Loki smirk in your direction while he ate only angered you more.  “Thank you father, but Brunnhilde is excellent and I’ve grown quite fond of her.  So, really, there’s no need for someone new” you smiled at your parents, holding your breath that your attempt would work, and hearing Loki snicker at you didn’t help your nerves.   

“Be that as it may, the Valkyrie have important training and she is needed there.  Don’t worry, it’s already done, you will be well taken care of and not cause any problems" with that, your father rose from his seat, all of you following suit and heading out of the dining hall.  

You needed a few hours of sleep before worrying about your new security detail and how to get out of the palace by yourself.  After your nap you decided a ride on your horse, Chocolate, was the best way to enjoy the day, so you were dressed and heading to the stables.  Riding around the back pasture behind the palace was not your ideal choice, but if your parents found out you were out again without security, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.  

The ride helped to clear your head a little, maybe a change in your security detail wouldn’t be so bad, you adored Brunnhilde, but would much rather have her as a friend to celebrate with rather than a watchdog, always on duty, never having fun.  Taking your time to make it back to the palace, you notice your brother approaching and roll your eyes as you try to walk past.  

“First day with new security and you decide to hide, tsk tsk sister”.  

Rolling your eyes at him trying to irritate you more than you already were, “really Lokes, you of all people should be helping me here, not making matters worse!”  You were toe to toe with him, and even if he still was several inches taller than you, you weren’t intimidated by him in the least.  

He merrily scoffed at you “how am I making anything worse?  I’m simply pointing out the error of your ways, I’m trying to help, unlike Thor” the last part muttered under his breath and made you freeze.  

“What do you mean by that?”  

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough” and just like that he had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. 

You were debating if you should take the time to bathe Chocolate yourself or allow someone at the stables to handle it, now that you heard Thor was being  himself more than usual, you didn’t have a choice and left the stables to investigate on what could have happened in the few hours you were away.  

Making your way back into the palace, you headed for the kitchen first, just a small snack needed to tide you over until dinner.  The staff was never surprised by your arrival, even if they did feel the need to bow, you always felt more like one of them than your royal lineage.   Maybe that’s why all these changes were making you irritated, you knew what was expected of you, but you still hoped that your requests would be considered, marrying for love rather than obligation or convenience, it shouldn’t be too hard to ask for.  

Heading back toward the throne room, you were stopped by Peter Quill, your father’s personal secretary.  “Your Highness, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.  You have a new security detail that you need to meet.  Will you please follow me?”. 

Deciding to get this encounter out of the way as quickly as possible you followed Peter to the throne room where you found your parents chatting with a rather handsome man.  

"Ah, there she is, come daughter, you need to get acquainted with your new security detail.  And remember, you are to be by her side at all times'' your father stated as you approached.  

"This is Clint Barton, he will be your personal security going forward" Peter tells you as you smile at the new face.  

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Barton, and father don't scare the man, he didn't mean at all times, just outside of the palace" you smile trying to make the encounter a bit more lighthearted. 

"I know what I meant child, until you can prove that you won't be sneaking out unaccompanied at all hours of the day, then Clint will be with you at all times" his tone left no room for argument, but you were about to try and plead your case only for Peter to whisk the king away for something or other, you weren't really listening. 

Sighing, you tried to give a genuine smile but felt too embarrassed to put any effort into it.  Before you could decide what to do next you heard Thor's booming voice from the doorway, "and there is my beautiful sister, we've been searching for you".  

As he approached, you noticed a man trailing behind him, he wasn't as tall as Thor but had the same arrogant demeanor about him and you could only hope he had nothing to do with what Loki had mentioned. 

"This is my dear friend, John Walker" Thor patted the man on his shoulder as he pushed him closer to you. 

"It's actually Duke John Walker" he immediately corrected but pretended to be humble to the title.  

You were instantly irritated and wanted to run and hide but instead you smiled politely "Sir Walker".  

At this point, the nicest thing you could do was to simply acknowledge the man, since it's not his fault your idiot brother dragged him around looking for you.

 "Why don't the two of you go to the sitting room and I'll have the staff bring you tea" at that point you might actually ring Thor's neck if he opened his mouth again.  

"Wonderful idea, Princess, shall we?" John held out his arm and you thought the day couldn't get any worse until you remembered your new, and very attractive, security that began to follow behind you towards John.  

Instead of saying anything, you took his arm and lead him out of the room and down the hall.  He immediately started commenting on the decor and how it differed from his estate, was this guy serious?  But of course you could only smile, knowing speaking your mind would only cause a problem for you.  

As you turned to the sitting room, John finally noticed Clint following the two of you and spoke up. "Thanks for the escort, but the princess and I will be spending tea alone" his arrogant and entitled tone rubbed you the wrong way but you were curious as to how Clint would react.  

"As her personal security, she will not leave my sight" Clint told him as he made his way to the corner of the room with no intention of leaving.  Realizing this could very quickly escalate into something ugly, you decided to intervene 

"Sir Barton is very dedicated to his craft, so why do we sit and chat, I doubt we will even notice his presence" you motioned to the sofas and chairs in the center of the room.  

Opting for a chair in order to leave as much space as possible between you and your brothers friend, you sat and waited for him to choose his seat.  

"Of course, anything for you princess" he smiled at you and it nearly made you ill.  You were raised to know exactly what to expect from people and what they expected from you, but moments like this, you had hoped you could just freely speak your mind and put entitled diplomats in their place.  

John immediately got comfortable on the sofa next to you and began telling you all about himself. What a surprise.  He drones on for what felt like hours. You were only slightly relieved when Anya arrived with a tray of tea and cakes. 

"Thank you, it looks wonderful. Can we get another serving set for Sir Barton?" you motioned to Clint in the the corner as Anya nodded before slipping out of the room.  

Stirring your tea you heard John scoff and looked at him questioningly. "Is something amiss?" trying your best to remain calm, you could guess what caused his reaction by the few minutes you had been around him so far today.

"Why are you thanking one servant and offering tea to the other?"  You nearly laughed at his utter disrespect to another human solely for the reason he had a title and they didn't.  

"Well, first of all, they are staff not servants and secondly, they are human beings.  Everyone deserves kindness". You are looking at Clint when you make the final statement and see the slightest hint of a smile.  

"Oh princess, how naïve you are" John chuckles and you immediately tense up as you watch him mock you.  

At this point the smart thing to do would be to stay quiet and remove yourself before you threw a punch, but today was not that day.  Glaring at the Duke, you decide to unpack everything on him, why the hell not?  

"Tell me Duke, do you know my name?" That instantly caused him to quiet down before scoffing, 

"of course I do". 

"Just wondering, since you haven't used it since we met.  It seems that you only have used my title" taking a bite of the cake on your plate, anxiously awaiting his response.  

He didn't respond right away, presumably trying to recall your name but apparently came up blank.  "Your position is power, princess.  I acknowledge and respect that about you" he seems smug, as if he had just given you a compliment. Was he expecting you to thank him, boy was he going to be disappointed.  

"My position seems to be more important to you than it is to me" you knew challenging him wasn't the best idea but you were hoping for him to get frustrated and storm out.  "So tell me John, what is my name?  Just wondering if you actually remembered it". 

He looked shocked and you decided to push him further, you just wanted to get him to leave.  

"Do you usually have trouble remembering names?  What's the name of your mistress?" this time you waited for him to respond while sipping your tea.  

"I beg your pardon? What sort of question is that?". 

"Which one? You haven't answered a single one of my inquiries". Holding his eye contact was not nearly as difficult as you thought it might be.  

"Why would you ask if I have a mistress?" 

You shake your head "I asked her name, or do you frequent brothels?"  

At this point he was turning red and completely flustered. "I have never been so insulted in all my days.  Please give Thor my regards" as he stood, gave a pathetic excuse of a bow and stormed out of the room.  

Humming happily you continued drinking your tea before turning to Clint, "you are welcome to sit and finish your tea.  The chamomile tastes nice with the lavender shortbread" 

Clint simply nodded before sitting in the middle of the sofa, rather than closest to you as John had. You weren't sure if striking up a conversation with him was the best approach but we're relieved by Anya returning to check on the tea. 

She smirked at you the moment she entered the room, "scared him away did you, your highness?"  Anya had been like an aunt to you since you could remember and knew you better than most, 

"it seems I have, he was much more fragile than I expected.  The tea is wonderful as always, it's a shame he missed the opportunity to enjoy it properly" you did your best to remain calm but a giggle escaped and Anya simply rolled her eyes. 

Turning to Clint she whispered, making sure to be loud enough for you to hear "was she awful or did he deserve it?"  

You held your breath, not sure how Clint had taken your encounter with John, you had yet to have a conversation with him and wasn’t sure what to expect. 

“Walker's disrespect shouldn’t have allowed him into the palace, let alone a private meeting with Princess Y/N”  

Relief came over you by his response, not only did he agree with Walker's attitude, but he used her given name.   Wondering if it was just his nature or if he was actually agreeing with your reaction to Walker’s behavior, you weren’t sure, but you felt at ease with your new security, more than you had anticipated was possible in such a short amount of time.  

“Well, I am going to try and get a nap in before dinner, thank you for everything Anya” smiling, you turned toward Clint. “Please feel free to stay and finish, I can assure you, I will be in my quarters until dinner” 

He stood almost immediately, making you believe he didn’t trust you at all, until he spoke “I’d like to make sure you make it safely, seeing as Walker may be lurking about”  then he opened the door for you with a smile.  

Making your way back to your room seemed to take longer than usual but maybe because you were enjoying Clint’s company. He didn’t say much, and neither did you, but the quiet between you was comfortable and you decided that maybe the new security detail was a better idea than you had initially thought. 

Once you were well rested, you dressed for dinner and were surprised to find that Clint was just outside your door when you opened it.  The sight immediately put a smile on your face and he offered his arm to escort you to the dining room.  

“I hope you weren’t waiting here all this time, that must have been quite boring” He simply smiled, 

“I will do whatever is needed to keep you safe”.  The simple comment made your heart skip a beat.  You had never met someone so genuinely kind and handsome at the same time.   Reaching the dining hall seemed to happen faster than you wished, but you entered the room, seeing you were the first to arrive, you wanted to prolong your time alone with Clint.  

“So tell me, is you being assigned to me a punishment for improper behavior?” you smirked.  Clint merely chuckled under his breath, and made his way to stand at his post during the meal, as you made your way to the table and immediately enjoyed your first glass of wine with a smile on your face.

Dinner nearly passed as any other until your father asked about your visitor.  

“Oh yes, my dear friend John, how did that go?  Will you be seeing him again?” Thor responded with a large grin on his face.   

You simply stared at your brother, curious as to how he could lead an army into battle, and yet not see the true nature of the people he was closest to.  

“The visit was fine, father.  And no Thor, I won’t be seeing him.  I would appreciate it if you kept your mind on your strengths on the battlefield and not match making.  Your dear friend John, is nothing more than a title chasing misogynist, and I only hope his blatant depravity does not corrupt you as well” trying your best to seem unbiased while leaving no room to question your distrust of the man you were forced to have tea with against your will.  

The gasp your mother had made gave you the relief you needed in that moment.  Her simple expression of shock let you know that John Walker would not be welcomed back.  

Thor on the other hand seemed confused, “did you not find him handsome?”  Looking at Loki for some clarity as to what that had to do with the situation only made you ask for more wine in order to endure the rest of the meal.  

Thankfully your mother and father took over the conversation with Thor and what sort of man you should be introduced to, allowing you to somewhat enjoy your meal.  Not really paying attention to much of the rest of the conversation, you waited as patiently as you could for the dinner to end.  

Once your father rose from the table, you were dismissed and made your way to the back gardens, with Clint’s accompaniment of course.  Knowing you were to find your future spouse in the next few weeks was the only thing consuming your mind.  If all of your suitor options were as dreadful as John Walker, you were certain to rather die a spinster than commit to anyone. 

The following days were filled with your mother fussing over the details of the gala, the invitations and food preparations as well as you needing a gown.   Thankfully, Clint was a better companion than you had anticipated and helped make the dreadful tasks so much better.  Small talk came easily and you felt as though your life had been missing Clint this whole time and was now, finally, how things should be.  

The night of the ball was no different, Clint by your side, making you feel secure and protected from anything and everything around you.  Once your entrance was announced, something you utterly detested, you slowly made you way around greeting guests.  

When you spotted John Walker, you took a deep breath before heading in his direction, Clint immediately stopped you.  Without saying a word, but giving a pointed look, it was as if you were reading each other's minds.  

Raising your head high you turned and were immediately approached by Lord Barnes, bringing a smile to your face.  

"Princess Y/N, would you do me the honor of a dance" his smile nearly took your breath away.  

"Of course, James, it would be my pleasure".  You had always found Lord James Barnes handsome, a blind person would, but he was also the kindest and strongest man from the neighboring country of Brooklyn.  

Dancing with James was wonderful, for such a large man, he was rather graceful on the dance floor.   However, you knew a marriage between the two of you would never happen, as he was very much in love with Prince Steven.  And against your better judgment you inquired on how the two were doing.   

“Well, Steve is courting Duchess Margaret” James advised with a strain in his tone.  

“Oh James, I had no idea, I’m incredibly regretful for mentioning him” you attempted to show your empathy, but you really had no idea what he was going through.  

“Nonsense, I knew he would need to find a queen in order to take his rightful place on the throne.  That is why I am here, I too am in need of a lady to carry on the Barnes lineage” James kissed your knuckles and bowed as the song ended.   

Initially you were shocked by his comment, but you supposed that there were certain expectations that no one could avoid.  Surprisingly, the remainder of the ball was enjoyable, you danced most of the evening.  Meeting new people was a normal part of the monarchy, and although most seemed nice enough, no one captured your attention enough to allow yourself to be courted.  

The next several weeks were more of the same, entertaining gentlemen from all of the surrounding kingdoms, making their intentions known to almost everyone they came across.  As flattering as it was, there was not a single one you felt any sort of connection to, luckily, during this time you also had Clint to keep you company.  

The two of you spent as much time outside of the castle as possible, riding horses and he occasionally provided you with lessons on archery, as it was his specialty.  All too soon you were back in another family dinner centered around your possible suitors and who they would allow to court you properly.  

“With all due respect father, I believe I should be the one to determine whom I allow to court me.  It is, after all, my future we are discussing, my opinion should be the determining factor” smiling as best you could while trying your best to remain civil.  

“Of course, we understand that,  don’t we dear” your mother quickly spoke up before your father could make the situation so much worse.  Odin sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted with the situation still taking place, and did nothing to hide it.  

“My dear, your future and happiness are the most important, however, I feel you may be quick to judge and I don’t want you to miss out your best option solely for the fact you think someone better might come along” your father immediately looks at your mother for confirmation on his statement, and you did not miss the small nod of approval she provided.  

“Thank you father, and I promise to make a wise choice for myself and the good of the family” you responded, trying your best to appease him “however long that may take”.  You smiled as politely as possible, you had no intent of choosing someone just to get it over with.  

That evening your mother came to your chambers to assure you that your father only wanted what was best for you.  

“My dear, remember that love, although incredibly important to a successful marriage, may not be there from the very start” the queen smiled as if that made any sense to you at all.  

“How am I to marry for love if there isn’t love there?” you questioned immediately.  

“Well my lovely daughter, a friendship built on trust and respect can turn into love, eventually.  Look at your father and I, our marriage was arranged by our parents.  We built a friendship first, it wasn’t until just before you were conceived that we truly fell in love with one another” she spoke with a smile on her face of the fondness of the marriage she had endured for all these years.  

You were shocked to learn that their love story didn’t begin until after both Thor and Loki were born.  When you were about to question the secrets she just revealed, she stopped you immediately.  

“I know what you are thinking, my duty as queen came before all else.  Our marriage was an agreement, and bringing heirs to the throne were our first priorities for the kingdom.  During that time, your father showed me the man he truly was, through his respect and devotion to me and our children.  Along the way, we both fell in love, and love produced you.  My life has produced more happiness than I could have ever asked for, and only with your father by my side.” she kissed your head before leaving you for the night.  

 Presumably to sleep, but after that revelation, you were sure if you could possibly close your eyes without your brain running in every direction.  

The next morning was much the same as every other day, except your mind kept reminding you, trust & respect, trust & respect. Knowing you wouldn’t be good company at the dining table, you had your meal brought to you in your room. Deciding the best way to get all the thoughts out of your head, you grabbed your journal and began to write.  

By morning, you had a better idea of how to navigate your next steps with your options in courting.  The day had progressed like any other, but you were definitely more astute to your interactions with Clint.  You needed to know that the trust and respect was reciprocated before approaching him and your offer of marriage.  

The more you spend time with him, you realized it had been much more than just trust or respect, you had begun looking forward to your time together, especially when it was only the two of you.  By the end of the week, you had come to the realization that you were falling in love with Clint, and that excitement could barely be contained.  

It was after a late dinner with the family, when Clint was escorting you to your chambers that you decided to address your feelings for him.  

“Would you mind staying a moment, I have something I wanted to speak with you about” you motioned for Clint to follow you into the room.  

He merely nodded and followed you, looking a little concerned when you began pacing the room.  Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him and smiled, there was no reason to be nervous, you knew Clint and that he would be kind to you, no matter what.  

“Since you’ve become my security, I’ve become rather fond of you,” you paused briefly to gauge his reaction, only to see the same stoic face you’ve grown to love. 

Giggling to yourself you continue “you have become a dear friend with whom I trust and respect, but I’ve recently realized I am falling in love with you.” Seeing that his expression hadn’t changed, you decided to lay everything out to him in order to move things along as quickly as possible. 

“This whole finding a proper suitor has been daunting, but it’s because I’ve been looking in the wrong place.  You’ve been here, with me through all of it….and I know it’s not customary for a princess to make such a scandalous request, but I know, that if we married, we could both be very happy for the rest of our lives” you were smiling at Clint, waiting for him to break out the charming smile that he saves only for you, but his expression hadn’t changed while processing everything you had just divulged.  

“Y/N….I can’t marry you” barely above a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.  

Rushing to him and grabbing his hands in yours, doing your best to reassure him “we can marry, my parents only want me happy, your status doesn’t matter”.  

He looked deep in your eyes, giving you a small but sad smile, “it’s not that, I can’t marry you as I am already married”.  

The anger at his blatant lie sprang up in you immediately, stepping away from him and dropping his hands as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You can just tell me the truth, you don’t need to lie to me” trying to sound strong but feeling completely defeated.  

“I assure you, I wouldn’t lie to you, and especially not something this important.   Laura and I have been married nearly 5 years now, and we are expecting our first child in a few months” he calmly explained but it only confused you.  

“Clint, we have been friends for months, you have never once mentioned a wife or child on the way.  You needn’t spare my feelings, you can just say that I’m not what you want, I can handle the truth.”  Shaking your head you began pacing the room again.  

“Y/N, it is true, I don’t discuss my personal life at work, but Laura expecting was what made me leave the active infantry and work in the castle.”  

And that is when it hit you, this was a job for him.  He didn’t even consider you a friend that he could confide in, you were just a job to him.  

Your embarrassment was something you had never felt before, you couldn't even face him to ask him to leave your chambers.  The only thing you could do was walk into your private bathroom, locking the door behind you, before attempting to draw your own bath.  

The running water had hopefully drowned out the sound of your cries, once the sobbing had started, you weren’t sure you would be able to make it stop.  You weren’t sure how long you sat there before the bathroom door was forced open and your mother came in, immediately pulling you into her arms while the maids completed getting the bath ready.  

Once you had calmed down, your mother assisted you in getting in the bath and washing your hair.  It had been so long since the two of you had quiet moments like this, and it was exactly what you needed while your heart was breaking.  She never asked any questions, only took care of her youngest child as only a mother could, even cuddling with you in bed until you woke the next morning. 

“My darling” she kissed your forehead as she stroked your back “you are the strongest woman I have ever met, you needn’t make any decisions today.  We can stay here all day, take our meals here, read every book in the library, whatever you would like” her smile reassuring you that everything would turn out fine.  

“Thank you mother, but I would rather be alone today, if that is alright” giving her the best smile you could muster.  “Of course, whatever you need.   I will have your meals sent in.  I do have some things to take care of today.” Stopping her as she made her way to the door, “Mother, can you also have them bring me some paper and a quill?  I have a letter I would like to write.”   

As the sun was setting, your letter was written, the Asgardian seal embossed to it and ready to be delivered to its recipient.  The only person who had come into your chambers today was your mother, the queen not allowing anyone near you was the most helpful in making your decision.  

The next morning you exited your room, with a new determination, and a completely different outlook on your future, one that surprised even yourself.   As expected, Clint was standing guard outside of your room, as you made your way toward the dining hall, but was wise enough to not say anything to you, allowing you to handle the situation you had put the two of you in. 

Reaching the room seemed to take longer with no conversation, but it was for the best that you move past this with as much dignity as you could.  Once he opened the door, you turned to him, he looked expectant and almost hopeful that your comradery would go back to how it had always been, but that was impossible now.   

Instead you handed him the letter you had written yesterday.  “Can you please have one of the palace footmen deliver this today?  It is quite urgent” you gave him a small smile.  

“Of course Y/N” he nodded, offering you a small smile as well.  

You could have left it at that, but decided to make one final statement to him that would solidify your decision, so while he was still within earshot you replied “thank you Sir Barton”.  

His shoulders immediately sagged when he realized you were putting up a barrier between the two of you that hadn’t been there since his first day in the palace.  He wanted to say something, explain himself, but he knew nothing would undo the damage he caused by not being honest from the beginning and allowing you a false sense of hope, something he hadn’t intended but was nonetheless solely on his shoulders. As deemed by his position, he merely bowed at your request and made his way out of the dining hall.  

The following day the castle was buzzing with excitement before you had even finished getting ready for the day.  Not sure what was happening, you sent your maid to find out as much detail as you could before you even allowed her to pick out your wardrobe for the day.  Once she made her way back to your chambers you demanded every last detail you could get.  

“Well Princess, it seems there is a suitor here, demanding an audience with the King and Queen.  We all know that only means one thing, he is bypassing courting you properly and is arranging an engagement with your parents!”  she was shocked that any man would attempt such a thing, your strong willed reputation was known throughout the realms.  

The smile on your face grew as she fastened your corset and you began picking up your jewelry.  “As long as it’s Lord Barnes, that is not an issue” hearing her gasp at your comment made you begin to giggle. 

“How do you know it’s Lord Barnes, I was saving that for the shocking reveal” 

 “Oh, I apologize for thwarting your plan.  But Lord Barnes is here because I summoned him” you winked at her as she finished pinning your hair back.   

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, “you summoned a suitor?  Is that allowed?” whispering to make the innocent question seem scandalous.  

“My dear, as Prince of Asgardia, the only way I will ever get what I want, is by taking it”  you stood and made your way out of the room, not even glancing at Clint who was at his post as usual.  Making your way to the throne room, you tried your best to walk at your usual pace, but today you had a mission to accomplish.  

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Always There - Marcel Barthel x Reader

Figured I’d get the Marcel one out of my way while I could. I’ve been having some German feels for a while (who can blame me though? )

I do apologize now for any INCORRECT translations. I do NOT know German well enough, I know about 5-6 words and that’s it. (Yes, No, Hello, Love, Ambulance and Hospital. The necessities) 

Y/N = Your name

If you don’t like Ember Moon, Kacy or Kayden, feel free to think up your own NXT roommate situation for a TakeOver event. That’s where I thought this would be at -shrug- 

EDITED IN: Original Tag List @starwithaheart​ @shedevill22 @amourseculier @regalbanshee​ 

Tagging those who Requested Marcel!  @barthelsimperium

(divider)

Letting out a deep breath, I glanced over at the digital clock next to the bed I was sharing with Ember. The red light read 3:29. Frowning, I looked at my other two roommates, Kacey and Kayden, who were also fast asleep much like Ember.

“So unfair…” I sighed.

This was now night three of no sleep. I knew I had to do something—if it kept going, Hunter was bound to realize, and not only that I could accidentally hurt someone in the ring. What could I do though?

Back home, I’d get up and make myself busy—but I didn’t want to wake up my friends.

Friends…

“Just find me, liebe. I don’t care what the time is!”

Marcel’s words came crashing into my fore-thought, causing me to purse my lips. I couldn’t actually just stroll to his room and wake him up at this ungodly hour… could I? Ember would never let me live it down, if she found out I went to his room this late at night. She’s the only one I have ever told my feelings towards. The only one who knew I loved Marcel, my impeccable German.

On screen, he was cold, cunning, methodical and egotistical. Behind the screen though? Marcel Barthel was the funniest, kindest and most considerate guy I had ever known. Our friendship had started out a bit oddly, as somehow his suitcase had ended up in the women’s locker room and I, of course, was the one to return it to him. He was clearly confused and embarrassed, but thankful all the same. I had cracked a joke that if he wanted to spend time with me all he had to do was ask—and upon hearing the chuckle from Fabian, I quickly excused myself in embarrassment, barely hearing Marcel speak to Fabian as I left.

“Lach nicht uber sie!”  ((ts: Don’t laugh at them))

Later that night, Marcel had found me backstage, quickly taking a seat beside me and leaning back slightly.

“You said if I wanted to spend time, all I need to do was ask,” he explained, causing me to go red from embarrassment.

“I-it was a joke… You don’t have to—”

“You may have been joking, but I’m not, Kleiner.”  ((ts: little one)) 

“I…. have no idea what that means.”

He only laughed in response, shaking his head slightly, promising me,” I’ll teach you some words.”

I smiled at the memory, before glancing a risk at the clock once more.

3:36

Fuck it, I decided. Carefully as I could, I pushed back the covers and climbed out of the warm cocoon I had made. Grabbing my wallet on the way by the tv stand, I tiptoed to the door and as quietly as I could, opened the door and snuck out, closing it with a soft click behind me. Gnawing on my bottom lip as I walked up the steps to the floor above, I thought about how close Marcel was to me—how close in my heart he always was.

Holidays, bright and early (even despite time zone differences) we’d be the first to wish one another a happy holiday; happy birthday—new years. When we’d both be at an event, we’d seek the other one out.

Marcel hadn’t taught me the translation for liebe yet, but since he was always calling me it, I had decided to ask Fabian one night, when Marcel was off getting something to drink.

“Heh, I don’t think I should be the one to tell you, Principessa.”  ((ts: Princess))

“Oh, come on—please? If you don’t I’ll just look it up online. C’mon Fabian, please?”

“Alright, alright—love,” Fabian answered, his eyes going over my shoulder for a second, before his voice lowered,” Liebe means love.”

Love.

Did it mean Marcel loved me the same way I did him? Probably not.

But it still made me feel happy, like I mattered to at least someone. Coming to a stop at room 329, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Twenty-five seconds.

Nothing.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and fighting the urge to just go back downstairs to my own room, I tentatively knocked once again, two short, soft bumps on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten—

The door opened slowly, catching me by surprise as I looked up from the floor. There before me stood a hooded-eyed, bed-headed Marcel, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. When he realized who it was, he seemed to wake up a bit.

“Liebe? Is everything In Ordnung?”    ((ts: alright))

“Uh, yeah. No. It’s fine…. Uh… I just… you said to…” Everything I said was coming out jumbled, and I could see Marcel trying to make sense of it all,” Sorry I bothered you this late—I’ll just—sorry, go back to sleep—” I turned to walk away, but stopped short when I heard his voice call my name.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, please, just—go back—”

“Hör auf, dich zu entschuldigen!” I heard Marcel snap, before his voice softened,” Komm schon, come.”   ((ts: Stop apologizing / come on))

With uncertain steps, I slowly walked back over to his open door, shivers running down my spine when I felt his hand gently rest on my back, ushering me in at my own pace.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Marcel asked as he closed the door behind us.

I shook my head, unsure if he could even see it in the darkness of the room,” Sorry, I just—”

“Liebe—stop saying sorry.”

Without needing to see him, I knew there was a frown on his face.

“Sor–…..”

In the darkness, I heard him give a small sigh, before suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me close to him,” I told you, you can come to me at times like this. There’s no need to apologize for it.”

“It’s just… it’s so late—or… early—I didn’t want to wake you up…”

“Don’t worry about that, okay? Come, make yourself comfortable.”

I felt his hand gently take my own and lead me towards the bed.

“W—what about Fabian? Will he—”

“Don’t worry about him, liebe,” Marcel gave a soft chuckle,” He’s a deep sleeper.” His hand left mine, and I could hear him get back into his bed.

Do I?

Don’t I?

“You won’t have a chance to get any sleep standing there, come on.” I heard him pat the space beside him and I was beyond grateful for the darkness in the room- otherwise he would be able to see how red my face was right now. Slowly, I peeled back the covers on the empty side and slid underneath, careful to not touch Marcel in anyway- which he must have noticed.

“I don’t bite, liebe.”

“Why do you call me that?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I had to know—needed to know. Marcel grew quiet for a few moments and I feared he wouldn’t answer me, until I felt his hand gently creep over mine once more and slowly pull me towards him. Wordlessly, I felt him softly pull me as close to his body as possible, laying right beside him, my head on his bare chest.

“Because… Du bedeute mir die Welt…I love you…” I could hear the uncertainty and the hope in his statement, and I couldn’t help the smile the slowly grew on my face,” We’ll talk more tomorrow, liebe. For now… get some sleep.”   ((ts: You mean the world to me))

Slowly nodding my head, I let my body relax into his embrace and before I knew it my eyes got heavy—and as I drifted off to sleep, I felt him press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

No more sleepless nights, no more uncertainty.

I was loved.

[keepingupwiththecullensblog]

🌟🐺 Welcome back to "Keeping Up with the Cullens," or should I say, "Keeping Up with Bella and Her Emotional Support Wolf"! 😂🐺 Yep, you read that right. Today, we’re diving into the wild, somewhat questionable choices of Bella Swan as she navigates life post-Edward. And by "navigates," I mean she's pretty much using poor Jacob Black as her personal emotional support wolf. The twist? Jake doesn’t even know he’s a shapeshifter yet! Talk about a surprise coming-of-age moment. 🐺😅

So here’s the tea: Bella, still reeling from the "OMG my vampire boyfriend dumped me" blues, somehow convinces herself that hanging out with a 16-year-old kid is the solution to all her problems. Never mind the fact that she's 18 and technically supposed to be the "responsible" one. 🙄 Instead, Bella’s like, "Hey, Jake! Wanna fix these death traps—oops, I mean, motorcycles—with me?" 😏 And Jacob, being the sweet, puppy-eyed guy he is, is all in, thinking he’s just helping his crush out with a cool project. 🚲💥 It’s like Bella’s version of therapy, except instead of a licensed professional, she’s got a lovestruck teenager with a toolbox. 🧰❤️

Now, let’s pause for a second. What would Charlie (or Edward, if he wasn’t off in vampire brooding land) think about Bella suddenly getting into motorcycles? 🚔😱 They’d freak out! But Bella? She doesn’t care. She’s like, "Rules? Who needs them?" And there she goes, dragging poor Jake into her rebellion. It's almost like she’s using Jake as a stand-in for her lost thrill-seeking with Edward. I mean, nothing screams "I’m okay, really" like convincing a kid to fix motorcycles you know your dad would lose his mind over. 😂🤦‍♀️

As soon as Bella starts hanging out with Jake, it’s like magic—she unzombifies! 🧟‍♀️✨ Suddenly, she’s reacting to life again, as if the fog has lifted and she remembers how to smile. It’s like she’s got her own personal mood ring, and Jake is permanently stuck on "happy." 😄 Charlie’s delighted to see Bella living life again, but if he knew what was actually going on… yikes! 😬 Meanwhile, Mike and Angela are all like, "OMG, Bella’s back!" 😃🎉 But Jessica and Lauren? They’re just annoyed, probably thinking, "Great, now we have to deal with this again." 🙄 Seriously, it’s like watching someone who’s been in a coma wake up and immediately decide to run a marathon. 🏃‍♀️

But here’s where it gets even more ridiculous. Bella’s not just hanging with Jake for the company. Oh no, she’s using him as a human (or should I say wolf?) bandaid for her shattered heart. 💔🐺 Poor Jake doesn’t even realize he’s being friend-zoned harder than anyone in the history of crushes. 😩💔 He’s just trying to be a good friend, and Bella’s like, "Yeah, yeah, that’s nice. Now, fix this motorcycle so I can break my promise to him." 🚲💨 At least they decide to do homework together twice a week—of course, because they still have to pretend to be normal teens, right? 😂📚 Nothing says "teenage rebellion" like calculus homework after a day of fixing motorcycles. 📝🏍️

And just when you think Bella might be turning a corner—BOOM! 💥 She sees "Sam’s cult" jumping off cliffs and immediately thinks, "OMG, someone call an ambulance!" 🚑 But Jake’s all chill, explaining that it’s just cliff diving for fun. And Bella? Of course, she wants to try it! Because why not? What could go wrong with adding "potentially fatal leaps off cliffs" to her growing list of questionable life choices? 😂🤦‍♀️ Honestly, this girl definitely needs professional help. 🛋️ Maybe she’s got a bucket list we don’t know about that just says "Give Charlie a heart attack" in bold letters. 😂📋

Even though Jacob’s magically helping her reconnect with life, Bella’s still having nightmares. 🌙😱 She wakes up screaming almost every night, missing her sleep bodyguard. Maybe she should ask Jake to sleep over since Edward isn’t around to protect her dreams. I mean, what could be more comforting than having your emotional support wolf on standby? 🐺😴 But honestly, can you imagine Jake’s face if Bella did ask him to sleep over? He’d probably turn into a wolf just out of sheer awkwardness! 😂

Jake, bless his heart, has no idea what he’s in for. He’s just trying to help his friend, but little does he know, he’s being used as a one-stop-shop for all of Bella’s mental health needs. 😳 And the worst part? He’s not even aware that he’s about to become a literal wolf, which is a whole other can of supernatural drama that’s just waiting to explode. 🐺💥 It’s like he signed up to be in a buddy comedy and accidentally walked into a horror movie instead. 🎬😱

It’s like Bella’s got her own personal therapy wolf, except she’s not exactly paying him in kibble or belly rubs. Instead, she’s paying him in emotional whiplash and unintentional manipulation. Seriously, Bella, maybe a shrink would have been a better idea? 🛋️😅

So, what’s next for Bella? More reckless behavior? More using Jake for his fixing skills and emotional support? Probably. Let’s just hope she doesn’t drag him into something even crazier—though with Bella, that’s almost a guarantee. Stay tuned for more wild antics from Forks’ most melodramatic human! 😂🌲

[erabundus]

@curiouskinetic &&. said... It's been a normal, rather uneventful (and frankly kind of boring) day, but one Sora was still content to spend with a friend. Life didn't have to be all big adventures after all, some quiet time hanging out and reading books was nice too. Though she'd finished her book earlier than expected, and found herself at a loss for what to do afterwards. Flopping down at Ren's side she let out a little huff, trying to decide whether or not she should just go to sleep. Until a scent caught her attention, and she found herself leaning towards him and giving him a little sniff. ".... hey, Ren? What's that other scent that's like... always on you?" Hm. That probably sounded a little odd. She should clarify. "Uhm, I mean, it's from a person I'm pretty sure-- someone you hang out with a lot?" Not that she had a burning need to know about all of his other friends, but she couldn't help being curious about one that seemed so important... if only judging by the fact their scent was constantly on him.

he's  fully  preoccupied  with  his  own  book  —  to  such  a  degree  that  the  wanderer  doesn't  even  look  up  when  sora  flops  down  by  his  side.  perhaps  it  stands  as  subconscious  testament  to  what  extent  he  actually  trusts  her;  ren  is  oft  prone  to  erring  on  the  side  of  caution,  even  with  those  he's  known  for  quite  some  time.  it  takes  a  concerted  effort  to  win  even  the  barest  shreds  of  FAITH  —  for  though  his  understanding  of  the  BETRAYALS  that  have  haunted  him  for  so  many  years  has  changed,  force  of  habit  still  has  its  claws  sunk  deep  nonetheless.  it  makes  these  small  moments  of  contentment  all  the  more  precious,  if  only  for  their  rarity.  such  comfort  is  ordinarily  found  in  total  SOLITUDE,  when  he  isolates  himself  somewhere  far  too  deep  in  the  forests  of  sumeru  for  another  soul  to  find  him.

❝  ...  huh?  ❞  predictably, he's  so  distracted  that  he  barely  notices  the  question.  paper  rustles  as  he  turns  the  page  —  only  for  the  wanderer  to  FREEZE  as  understanding  crashes  into  him  like  a  massive  wave.  once  again,  his  expressive  face  stabs  him  in  the  back;  a  myriad  of  emotions  flickering  across  delicate  countenance  at  speeds  nearly  too  fast  to  register.  confusion.  shock.  suspicion.  embarrassment.  the  last  one  is  particularly  NOTABLE,  for  ren  tends  to  carry  himself  as  if  he's  above  the  concept  of  SHAME  —  not  out  of  a  lack  of  self  respect,  but  rather  with  the  confidence  of  one  too  stubborn  to  spare  what  others  think  so  much  as  a  thought.  yet  now,  a  dusting  of  a  distinctly  rosy  hue  paints  his  cheekbones  and  he  stares  at  sora  with  eyes  gone  impossibly  wide.  he  has  a  sneaking  suspicion  he  knows  precisely  who  she's  referring  to;  there  is  only  one  person  who  ren  spends  so  much  time  around  —  and  in  fact,  actively  seeks  out  his  company  at  every  available  opportunity.

it's just a bit awkward to explain. ( his scent? )

❝  uh.  ❞   the  wanderer  turns  away,  pretending  to  fake  a  cough.  as  if  that  alone  is  somehow  enough  to  smooth  over  the  MORTIFYING  display.   ❝  that  person  is  probably ...  ❞  words  trail  off  just  as  quickly  as  they  begin.  he  drums  painted  nails  against  the  cover  of  his  long-forgotten  book,  trying  to  think  of  a  way  to  respond  as  succinctly  as  possible.  when  nothing  comes  to  mind,  lavender  gaze  flicks  to  his  hands.  nose  wrinkles  in  thought.  after  a  few  seconds  of  contemplation,  ren  merely  settles  for  raising  one  for  sora  to  see  —  purposefully  trying  to  draw  attention  to  the  ENGAGEMENT  RING  he  wears  upon  his  finger.  a  bit  messy,  but  with  his  tongue  evidently  taking  the  opportunity  to  rebel  against  him,  it  seems  like  the  most  painless  way  to  answer  her  question.

[toxship-toxy]

A new term: "Toxship"

First, here's how you say it: "tox" is as in "toxic", "ship" is pronounced the usual way. It's a combination of "toxic" and "relationship", and thus it's said that way! Someone who supports or ships toxships might call themself a "toxshipper", if they so choose.

"But what is a toxship?"

It is exactly what it sounds like: A ship (character relationship) that could be read as "toxic". This may include...

abusive ships

ships with age gaps

interspecies ships

ships that contain graphic or heavy content

But that is not all that a toxship may be, and not all that it implies! Please, continue to read, lest you miss the point utterly...

"Isn't this covered by 'comship' already?"

It is not! I was actually inspired by "comship" to make an alternative term that better suits me. You can read about comship from some of its coiners here: 1, 2. Notice in particular these quotes from those carrds: "all ships are valid and reasonable to enjoy" and "don't like, don't look". These are crucial to comship, and are to welcome in stealth proshippers to the term. These ideals are not inherent to being toxship.

"So toxshippers can be ship haters?!"

That's correct!! A toxshipper is allowed to vent their frustrations with ships they dislike and be choosy in what they support. Think of it like a real middle-ground between proship and anti. Everyone always says ships are valid, but what about squicks and NOTPs? Have your cake and eat it, too!!

Some expansion on what toxshipping espouses:

A toxship need not necessarily be "romanticized", it can just be an abusive dynamic you enjoy exploring.

Shipping discourse is stupid, but complain if you must.

Toxship art should be tagged and flagged appropriately so it can be avoided by those who might complain, or else otherwise somehow made harder to find without intentionally seeking it out. A toxshipper who puts themself out in the open should prepare for whatever ire they may draw.

Toxship leans 18+, unlike comship. Exclude minors, even if the toxship in question is "worksafe".

Toxship does not hold the same ideals as proship, like comship does. It is not meant to be "unknown/stealth" for "ease of mind" of anyone, toxship knows exactly what it is and how upsetting it might be, and it is content with this. It is simply for those who spend their time exploring unhealthy dynamics in fiction, people who are mature enough to think about such things critically but still have some kind of fun picking it apart.

"Does toxship necessarily include incest, underage, zoophilia, etc.?"

I'd say no, because I dislike these themes and think people should try harder to make their darkfics disturbing before pulling out the big guns in gruesome detail, even if they are under the "abuse" umbrella. But I can't physically stop you if you do try and include them, can I?

"Is there a flag for toxship I can use?"

Not yet! I want to make one eventually, though. Hopefully one that's not just some stripes with an emoji slapped on.

"Is there an emoji combination for toxship that I can sneak into my bio?"

Not yet! I think it'd be fun to have symbols for it, but I haven't decided on any at this moment.

Now go forth... and write the toxfic of your dreams!

[house-of-slayterr]

Medical Rant!

Bruh, you’re telling me instead of just giving me the medication I was previously on for 3 years with my last insurance, my new insurance decides I need to try other things first (if they bothered to read my chart, I’ve tried everything else already and half of them made me violently I’ll, which is why I was on the fancy expensive medication in the first place), and charges me fucking $85… for a god damn partial perscription!!!

They didn’t even give me a full dose of this medication that I already know doesn’t fucking work (so I’m not even gonna take it), for $85… that like an entire days of work at my job before they take away tax… this is bullshit.

To people who think disabled people are “lazy” and “leeching off the government” no the fuck we aren’t! They continuously punish us for not being able bodied, and then call us sensitive snowflakes for being upset about shit like this.

This is the 9th month in a row they’ve denied me my migraine medications. I get migraines so bad I have seizures and partial paralysis (this can last a few hours, or the worst one, a few fucking months). The reason for them denying it “you need to have more than 3 migraines a week” wanna take a guess as to why I don’t meet the requirement? Because when I was on the fucking medication, it was working. I’m being punished because my medication was “working too well” so now I don’t get to have it.

I fucking hate the medical system in America, it’s a god damn joke: I say this with confidence having been in medical school and worked in a hospital. This is literally the main reason I’m moving out of state and just upending my life right now. (Hence not writing as much, but once I’m settled I’m bring back all my old series and a few new ones, don’t worry 🥰)

The hospitals have just decided I must be faking everything (even though you physically cannot fake symptoms like seizures, low oxygen, bleeding in the intestines, ect…) and they want me to go to a specialty hospital because they’re too lazy to just test for rare disorders. But the specialty hospital has been ghosting me for 3 years. And I decided I’m sick of just waiting around to die since apparently no one’s gonna take my health seriously but me.

I can’t wait to start feeling better, and Hopefully when I move and get new state insurance and reapply for disability, I won’t have to work myself to the bone just to afford to function and live like a normal human. I’m done being a pushover, next health official to ignore or gaslight me, is getting fired off my medical team, and I’m going to report them. I don’t care if I’m “ruining their job” maybe they should treat patients like fucking people, they’re doing it to themselves and I no longer have any sympathy.

I promise, most people aren’t trying to swindle the system or trick you. Disabled people just want to feel better and not be in pain and constantly on the brink of death all the time. That shouldn’t be too much of an ask. Yet everyone still treats us like we’re in their way and making the world worse somehow.

If this racist as hospital treats me like I’m “drug seeking” one more time, when I’ve never asked for pain meds, and have literally denied them before so I wouldn’t be seen as a “pill junkie” and hopefully get real help. Also if they give me one of the medications I’m fucking allergic to one more time, despite it literally being AT THE TOP OF MY FUCKING CHART!!! I’m gonna scream. Stop trying to murder me!

Fuck the government!

Fuck the health care system!

And more importantly, fuck ableism and inaccessibility!

[artificialqueens]

[WIP] When She Blooms (Trixya) - Fannyatrollop

Note: A couple of years ago, I read a popular Gilmore Girls inspired Trixya fic while watching the kdrama When the Camellia Blooms... and decided to try my hand at a Camellia inspired fic. There are zero plans of including the serial killer storyline, but I do have a lot of other things swimming around, including a role for Tammie Brown. I can't promise I'll write this anytime soon, my track record for finishing what I've started isn't the best, but I have a little bit going, and wanted to show off the accomplishment. So here! Coming to theatres.... some day!

Somewhere along the Eastern coast of the United States sits a town called Bryan’s Wreck.

According to local folklore, the area would never have been infiltrated by foreign settlers if it hadn’t been for a tragedy. A ship carrying these first colonizers lost its way and dashed against some rocks that today provide a perfect spot for a romantic evening; if you’re sitting up top on the rock wall with your sweetheart, the sounds of the sea crashing against the stone, the moon looking so close it’s, like, enormous, and the cool breeze would at least get you to second base. Not so if you’re a boat careening towards them. The hapless vessel couldn’t stand a chance. Some say that if you squint, you can still see the remains sunk deep in the water. 

Somehow, the wreck spat out survivors like watermelon seeds. Bereft, and probably soaked through like they always are in movies, the little group made it to shore still processing the recent traumatic events that put them there. It’s then that, for some, the bullshit meter shoots into the stratosphere. Among the drenched and dispirited survivors were the wives they’d brought along for the colonizing. These were not faint-hearted hothouse flowers; they were tough, the type that would doubtless be chopping wood and building homes rather than expired on a patch of grass because they hadn’t realized their “New World” adventure required some hard work on their part. They were prepared for the struggle, and when things got off to such a dismal start, it was the women who got up, wiped their eyes, and rallied the group to build what would eventually become the town. And everybody clapped.

Hogwash or not, it does seek to explain a couple of things about Bryan’s Wreck, the first being its rather ominous name and the second, more important thing is the fact that this small seaside town is functionally a matriarchy. Sure, many of the men have historically gone out fishing, but the town is host to many businesses, almost all run by women. These businesses tend to be restaurants, and were often where much of the fishermen’s catches would be cooked using recipes guarded more carefully than the deepest of state secrets, passed down from mothers to daughters or daughters-in-law. The less fishing actually happens off the coast, the more the town relies on its reputation as an off-the-beaten-path foodie destination for tourist dollars. 

In a place like this, what’s a guy to do? It’s not a dry town, but well, every establishment where alcohol is sold is owned by their mother, or their wife, or their sister, or their mother/wife/sister’s nosy best friend. Grabbing some drinks and gathering near the water is fine, but what if it rains? And besides, doesn’t everyone like having a special place to hang out?

When Trixie Mattel arrived, she encountered a tight knit community of strong women who held a firm grip on the town’s business ecosystem. If things had worked out a certain way, she would have walked right into the embrace of a sisterhood, but these sisters don’t always take kindly to outsiders. It’s not easy for anyone new to waltz in and survive past a single summer season—not unheard of, but the Russian woman who got the town dangerously hooked on pirozhkis is an outlier and should not be counted. We’ll talk about her later. 

And yet, for a little over 8 years, Trixie has managed to hang on. She’s done this by turning an abandoned warehouse into a sanctuary for the town’s poor, forgotten men. Since its founding, the Lucky Clover has answered the cries of men looking for a spot to drink a little more than usual away from the censure of the matriarchs. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement; Trixie keeps the drinks flowing, and even feeds them sometimes. In return, the men hand over an annoying portion of their household income to her and, for the first year, politely ignored the baby strapped to their fair hostess’ back. 

The womenfolk have never adhered to this rule.

“It’s just crass,” one would grumble. “Serving alcohol to all those men with a baby right there on her back? Where it can see? How’s it going to grow up now?”

Svetlana Zamolodchikova, the aforementioned Pirozhki Lady, would tsk and shake her head.

“When I was young, I give the same men vodka with my Katya on my back,” she’d say with a smirk. “You must have hated me back then.”

That would cow them somewhat, but only for a little while. Still, the years passed, and the Lucky has stayed right where it is, with the same woman at its center serving meals and drinks to the forsaken men of the Wreck. The talk never seems to bother her.

There’s no need to ignore the baby these days, though. It’s impossible to do that when he’s old enough to walk and threaten to cut off a patron’s snack supply if they look at his mom funny. 

Katya Zamolodchikova was mostly away while all of this happened, busy living the glamorous life of a professional athlete. For someone raised in the Wreck her whole life, she’s a bit of a strange case, too; she’s her mother’s only daughter and yet there’s no question of her carrying on the family business. Katya has always been told not to worry if it dies once she’s well and truly on her feet. It’s an unusual situation, but her mother, though not like the other entrepreneurial moms in town in many ways, is very much like them in her jealous guarding of her right to have the final say in everything to do with her restaurant. Katya would never begrudge her that. 

Still, every year the place continues to stand she’s glad it’s kept chugging along, though. Especially now that she’s come home to reevaluate her life.

[seaweedsawyou]

Podcasts in review 2022

It was decidedly NOT a good year. Hence all the actual play podcasts.

Actual Play :/

These Flimsy Rituals - Divine cycle but fantasy. No seriously, they have Divines, the Rapid Evening, the Crystal Palace - and I'm 90% sure it's a coincidence. Severe lack of Keith J Carberry (or equivalent) makes it hard to listen to. Play their own system, Blades and a variety of other small games to expand the story.

Eidolon Playtest - Jojo stands in a tabletop world with moves such as "reveal your masterplan". Tarot card pulls are much cooler than dice. Their mini seasons (Giants? in particular) are a great place to start. The cast is mostly trans women who both loved and disliked Jojo (and Persona) enough to unionize and make something of their own - one of the characters in the current season is legit Naoto but good (trans). Play different versions of their own game.

Spout lore - somehow they play Dungeon World nigh gmless. The players supply the world, its geography, fauna, even reasons for this particular group of bad guys to kidnap them. Even if I consider the results of their world building inferior to some others, there sure take a ton of joy in creation (and that's beautiful). Also a TON of dick and fart jokes and the weirdest cases of no(?) homo from the cast. ALSO they do a goof (dndads style) by stealing from a more popular podcast thinking it was just a thing (princept as a gender neutral term for "ruler of a principality". look it up. there is only a urban dictionary entry from after partizan has started. a song, a firm and FaTT Wiki entry). Play Dungeon World and Blades (in bonus Patreon content).

Naddpod (Eldermourne) - there had to be a point where I put my foot down. No more dnd podcasts from now on.

The Unexplored Places (Deliverance, OH; Tango Sector) - Deliverance, OH is a cool name for a place to see monsters every week. Tango Sector is a cool name for a place to be scum and villains in, but the sum of its parts is less than. Catfishes: the Rock opera is a masterpiece. Play MotW, Scum and Villainy, Masks, Fiasco, smaller games.

Qomrades - a friend group that plays not dnd decided to record themselves on game night. Play whatever.

Tales Yet Told (Season 1) - discovered through their post in the FaTT tag here (good hustle). Cute (and sufficiently creepy) little story about siblings lost in the woods. Not in a rush to catch up, but I'm looking forward to. Play Babes in the Woods.

Rusty Quill Gaming - absolutely atrocious beginning (eps 2-8 are the same fucking combat encounter). The ending felt out of nowhere: was the fandom as analytical organ required to understand it? Grizzop voice makes me so happy it's illegal. Play Pathfinder (ugh) and a variety of games as bonus content.

Audio Drama :)

Wizards Seeking Wizards - it can be difficult to fill your quadrants when you are a wizard - but you should try anyway. Wacky wizards go on weird love, hate and friend dates. Product of voice actors in quarantine.

The Ballad of Anne and Mary - have you ever wanted to hear cool historical female pirates to sing about their life? Now is your chance. Product of actors in quarantine.

The Doctor Is Dead - ahhh!!!! Cool weird queer (thematically and otherwise) musical. Complete with astonishing songwriting and music. Favorite thing I've encountered all year.

Out of Place - alternate dimension puzzles are more fun when they are based in history (season 1), and not in sci Fi the author has read (season 2).

Beneath our Feet - doctor but not cool.

Mirrors - normally I am very easily impressed by both women and ghosts.

The Tides - I really wanted it to be In Other Waters. Hard to do so without visuals or scientific basis.

Woe.Begone - I won't be listening to another Homestuck while also being personally victimized by the writer (/j but I refuse to elaborate).

Malevolent - possession narratives are sooo fun I will keep listening to another Homestuck 💛

Arden - when fem!Hamlet goes to the nunnery. Oh my god. Oh shit. O fuck. So unfortunate you have to get through the first season to reach the second.

Tech won't save us - host's name is Paris Marx, which makes everything else self explanatory. Your leftie tech podcast.

Various unnamed philosophy podcasts - not good enough to mention. None of them compare to the One (GSSB) which isn't even one primarily.