#that way they’re less likely to be noticed by onlookers

[roscolate]

Me throughout the rest of the lullaby scene:

ACT 1

ACT 2 - 1 <<< 23 / 24 / ?

*wide grin*

[writeroutoftime]

I saw that your requests are open so I wanted to ask if you could please do something with Jamie Tartt where the reader plays for Arsenal women’s team, and he and some of the lads go to watch the CL semi at the Emirates against Wolfsburg, the reader is playing everything is fine until she has a nasty tackle put on her and she tears her ACL and Jamie goes into protective bf mode and then try to comfort her because she's going to miss the world cup. Thank you so much 🩷

words: 0.9k

a/n: hey lovely anon, thanks for sending this my way! hopefully, this is what you were looking for - please enjoy!!

oOoOo

Jamie loved moments like this. When he was the one sat in the stands, surrounded by his mates, snack in his hand, and cheering for his favorite team. Well, more like cheering for his favorite player - you.

It was a tense match between Arsenal (your team, which Jamie's was proudly sporting a jersey for) and Wolfsburg. Jamie and the rest of Richmond were on their feet watching as you dribbled the ball down the field, so close to being able to take a shot on goal. But, at the last second, one of the opposing team’s defenders came swooping in and knocked you harshly to the ground.

Time seemed to stand still as Jamie watched you tumble, his arms outstretched, and your name on his lips. “Referee!” he cried out, like many other onlookers. It was moments like this that Jamie wished the players you went up against were a bunch of blokes he could pummel for hurting you. Yes, it was unrealistic to believe you would never get a bump or a bruise, but that didn’t mean it hurt Jamie any less when it happened.

But Jamie quickly realized this was much more serious than a simple shove, and blood rushed in his ear. It didn't matter though as there was nothing else to hear as the entire stadium fell silent when they noticed the way you clutched your knee to your body, not yet having jumped back to your feet.

The referee blew her whistle, and your coach and team physio came rushing onto the field, kneeling next to you. Even though he was up in the stands, Jamie watched the way your face contoured in shades of pain as the physio gentle poked and prodded your injury, trying to determine the extent of your injury. Jamie ached to storm the field and take your hand, but Issac’s grip on his shoulder kept him ground.

After what seemed like a lifetime, a stretcher was brought out and you were taken off the field to a storm of claps from the stadium. Though the match continued, Jamie pushed away from his teammates, throwing some mumble of a goodbye over his shoulder, and ran down to the locker room. He was stopped from bursting into the locker room but caught one of your coaches.

“Please, where is y/n? I need to see her.” Jamie begged, tears blurring his own vision. While, realistically, he knew you were going to be okay, the thought of you alone and in pain tore away at his heart.

“The ambulance is outside ready to take her to the hospital. She just asked me to come and find you.” your coach reported.

Barley seconds after finishing her second, Jamie tore off towards the parking lot and saw the opened ambulance, you laying in the back, tears streaking your cheeks. “Babe.” Jamie called out, jumping into the ambulance bay, ignoring the nearby EMTs.

“Jamie.” you whimpered, reaching a hand for him to take, knowing the weight of his presence was the only thing that could comfort you in that moment.

“What did they say, love? They gonna have to chop it off?” he teased, trying to lighten the situation and his carefully brushed away the tears.

The smallest shake of your head told him this was much more serious than a sprain or a bruised muscle. “T-they’re pretty sure it’s a torn ACL.” you whispered, burying your face into Jamie’s chest as much as the situation allowed.

“Oh, love.” Jamie said, holding onto you even tighter as the EMTs locked the ambulance doors and began to drive to the hospital.

There was nothing Jamie could think of to make this moment any better. With the World Cup only a few short months away, there was no hope you would be cleared to play by that time. One looked at you and Jamie could see all the self-destructive thoughts that ran through your head because he knew the same thoughts would be running through his if the roles were reversed. He also knew if the roles were reversed, you would have already thought of ten perfect things to say to Jamie and he knew he needed to speak out.

“Look at me, babe.” he encouraged, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. “This doesn’t make you any less of a fucking outstanding player. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, a supposedly outstanding player who’s gonna miss out on her one shot of playing in the world cup.”

Jamie frowned, hating to hear you talk about yourself that way. “What makes you think this was your only chance?”

“Don’t be dense, Jamie. I know I’m replaceable, and this is just the start.” you pouted.

“Or, you take this time, get better, go back out there, and show them what a fucking star you are.” he countered. “I know it, and I know you do too, deep down. This doesn’t have to be the end, y/n. You gonna come back from this and make sure everyone knows that y/n fucking y/l/n is a name they’ll never forget.” he tells you, so passionately you can see the sparkle in his eyes.

Your heart is flooded with warmth as his words wash over you. Unconsciouly, you snuggled deeper against Jamie, grateful for his presence. And it was then you knew that even if you never played again, it wouldn't matter as long as you had Jamie by your side.

[idkfitememate]

People: In my Inbox with really great ideas that I wanna write really bad and waiting for Pt. 3 of Boar!Creator.

Me with my Pea Brain and tiny attention span:

What if, in a SAGAU, the reader/imposter was actually straight up a psychopath. Like a literal insane person. The “Imposter” who got here first is genuinely a good person who adores all the characters and really just wants them to live happily.

Whereas the second reader gets there and their first objective is to find a way home.

And this time?

They do!

So once that happens, the thought that Genshin Impact truly is just a game sticks to their head like glue.

In real life they’re like me an angst lover, a pathetic little man/woman lover. They like to see people cry and bleed in order to get their love. A real sadist.

So they go back in.

Walk to the middle of Mond while and slice their hand with a stone, revealing the golden blood beneath their skin.

But instead of kicking their imposter out, they keep them by their side, loving and doting on them just to see the heart broken faces of their acolytes.

Or.

They allow themselves to get killed.

Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Until someone finally notices their blood.

How they’d love if it was Zhongli. He’s been dubbed the most loyal. To see his expression over their crumpled dead body would leave them feeling such ecstasy they’ve never felt before.

They’d sit on their throne and watch as their acolytes cry as they don’t forgive them. As they grin down and ask where this loyalty was when they stabbed them and shot them. When they burned and froze and drowned them. When they buried them in rock and grew flowers in their lungs.

They’d force them to beg on their knees and still turn them away. To prostrate themselves before their god, and still be shooed off like scum beneath their foot.

To watch as you turned away the sick and less fortunate as a punishment for not being able to realize their true creator.

To feel like this isn’t enough. To want their blood on their hands.

To show their power over them.

…

…

…

They killed the Archons.

All seven.

Blood drenched the stage as onlookers screamed and cried. Their sword drenched in the divine blood.

To then raise them back from the dead.

Watch as tears stream down their face as they beg and plead for you to stop. They they’ll repent in anyway, but to never do that again.

When Venti’s voice hit a pitch they disliked, they stabbed. Over and over. Like the arrows he allowed to riddle their body.

And when they finish they bring him back one more time.

They go through all the characters who hurt them. One by one they are killed and brought back. Their blood staining their Creators skin.

They begin to push the boundaries even further.

Asking for sacrifices and offerings of higher calibers.

They asked for the skin of those who hurt them. Eyes and ears, fingers and teeth.

And to those who didn’t hurt them?

They are forced to attend a feast of their “friends” skin and bone.

Forced to eat as their creator happily munches away on someone’s thigh.

This is how to make their creator happy, right?

The disgusting sound of bones crunching as their force themselves to stomach their friends bodies.

This was their reward… right?

In both endings they dote on their imposter, loving on them to watch as their disgraced acolytes try their hardest to pray for their forgiveness.

Praying that they would fix their broken bodies.

Watching as their wounds reopened from the positions they prayed in. Blood pouring from their open bodies for them.

When the acolytes look away for less than a second they shove their fingers behind their eyes, pulling them out because “If not to keep their gaze on me, why should they see?”

When the acolytes touch another to push them away from their Creator, they force their finger back into god awful positions, ripping them off because “If not to touch me, why should they feel?”

When the acolytes taste the food not offered by their Creator, they pull their tongue out with bare hands because “If not to taste my offerings, why should they taste?”

When the acolytes smell the scent of someone else, they rip their noses from their face because “If not to smell my godly scent, why should they smell?”

When the acolytes hear the voice of another and lean towards the sound, they tear their ears right off their head because “If not to hear my pure sound, why should they hear?”

But to keep them reeled in, they offer two things.

When truly impressed, they praise their acolytes. One at a time. Slowly, teasingly. Small things. Watching as the others get jealous I’ve the one whose head you now hold in your lap. Whose face runs with tears and drool and snot as you run your hand through their hair. How they get caressed instead of slapped. How they get to feel the rare gentleness of their fingertips instead of the carnage they usually reap.

And if they’re especially lucky they’ll get both them and their imposter partner praising them and petting them.

The amount of times they had to bring back an acolyte after the others killed them out of envy was amazing.

The other way?

Using their control of the game, they’d “possess” an acolytes body, and begin killing people in that body. Sometimes they’d make everyone aware it was their Creator, sometimes they wouldn’t.

But the acolyte would have to live with the fact that the blood of those around them now sat on their hands, even if they couldn’t control it.

And they’d say that they just had to be stronger. If they’d been better. If they had just been a bit tougher. Maybe… maybe this wouldn’t have happened… maybe…

They watch as the mental states of their acolytes crumbles under their heel. As they become more and more desperate to appease their Creator and dependent on their small praise.

But the ultimate punishment. Is when they leave to return to their world.

Leaving them all behind. Probably even taking the Imposter with them.

Watching them beyond the screen as they scream and cry and beg for them back. Playing the game and completing quests as all the playable characters voice lines become pleads for them to return.

Dying over and over and bringing them back, joking that since they haven’t played for a while they’re getting rusty. Forcing them through boss fights and losing on purpose bear then end so they have to do it over. And over.

Just an asshole who fully believes that their lives don’t matter because they’re trapped in a game and they can leave at anytime.and because of their status, they can do whatever they want to these people who are so desperate to please their Creator.

… Anyway I wanna eat a cookie :3!

╭◜◝ ͡ ◜◝╮

( 🍪 )

╰◟◞ ͜ ◟◞╯

/)/)

( . .)

(づ ︴༄

(I got more ideas like this and OC’s but idk if anyone would want to listen to me rant about them… this was supposed to also be an OC blog as well… damn ໒꒰ྀི × ˕ ×｡꒱ྀི১-)

[spiderculechronicals]

Peter 3 goes on patrol with the air tag on his butt since he doesn't have a phone yet, then meets up with Wade after.

___

Peter 3 let out a joyful whoop as he swung through the city, doing flips at the peak of his arcs and turns, enjoying the rush of the free fall. He felt his Spidey-Sense prickle up a low-level alert and changed course to investigate. As he drew near enough to perch on the roof of one of the buildings near the alley in question, the warning ramped up hot and he instinctively shot a web into the dark, then dropped down, having knocked a knife out of a mugger’s hand and startled him back into a stack of pallets. He put himself in front of the victim, arms fanned out protectively.

“What the- who the hell are you??” the mugger asked.

“Who the…” Peter 3 cocked his head, “Are you serious? I’m Spiderman.” He turned to the victim, “Are you okay? Did he take anything?”

“No, uh- I mean, I’m okay, uh… thank you! You look taller in person!” the near-victim hurried off back to the main street area.

“Um!... Thanks?” Peter 3 shook his head, then shot another web without looking, sticking the mugger to the street before he could run off. “Okay man, come on, that’s not how this works.” He turned to face him and crossed his arms. The mugger fumbled in his pockets and Peter 3 huffed in annoyance, webbing his hands tied. “No.” He sighed. “Look, I’m just… I’m gonna go get someone to call the cops and pick you up. I’ll stick close in case someone else tries to pull an uno reverse and mug you, then you’re on your own.”

“You’re not Spiderman, Spiderman’s a kid…”

“Dude! That was almost four years ago when that story came out! Do math! Not a kid!”

“I heard he was like, fourteen back then… So that’s still a minor…”

“Oh my God…” Peter 3 threw his hands up and walked out of the alley and peeked around, looking for a likely person to call it in. A couple onlookers lifted up their phones to take a picture and he zeroed in on them with a little wave. “Uh, hey! Hi…” He hopped up on a streetlight and stuck to it. “Are you taking picture or video right now? … could you just please call 911 or the non-emergency line and leave a tip about this alley? … I don’t have my phone on me at the moment.”

“You should put pockets in your suit!”

“… I have pockets!” Peter 3 said, sliding a hand down his thigh into the concealed pocket there and wiggling his fingers. This got him a couple giggles.

“Before I call the cops, uh, is the guy in the alley black?” One of the less-drunk group members spoke up.

Peter 3 pointed a finger. “That is a sadly relevant question. No, not a black guy, please tell the dispatch that info. Not too sure more specific than that. Also he’s fine, just immobilized.”

“ACAB!” one of the other people in the group called out.

“Hey! Look, I agree! But this guy was gonna literally stab someone, this isn’t a slap on the wrist and let go kinda deal. What do you want me to do, beat him up myself? Nuh-uh. I’ll stick around to make sure nothing happens until he’s in custody.” Peter 3 relaxed into an upside-down crouch.

“Uh, I guess someone already called it in! They’re on their way.”

“Okay, Thanks!” Peter 3 swung himself up and leapt off the streetlight onto the building, then scrambled back to the alley to wait out of sight.

“… I know you’re up there!” the mugger called up into the dark.

“Dude, I said I would be. Calm your tits.” Peter 3 snorted, settling into the shadows high on the wall, sticking with his back and feet. He wondered how long it would take before Wade noticed he’d stopped traveling and come to investigate. The arrival of flashing red and blue lights at the entrance to the alley signaled the authorities’ arrival. “Alright, pumpkin, your ride is here. I’ll make sure you get on the bus safe and sound, then I don’t want to catch you out here again, got it?” Flashlights swept down the alley, spotlighting the webbed-up mugger. One broke off and went high, catching Peter 3’s reflective eye shields. He put a hand up to shade them, then walked himself up backwards quickly out of sight before jumping higher on the next building. He grinned to himself as he heard the mugger insist to the cops that that wasn’t Spiderman.

“I mean he looked like Spiderman to me? You saw him sticking to the wall… and these look like webs… what else would you call that?”

“Dude but Spiderman’s a kid, that guy was for sure older… like… mid… twenties at least?”

“Whatever. This your knife?”

“… No.”

“I’m pretty sure Spiderman’s college age now. That expose came out four years ago and I think he was a high-school senior then…”

Peter 3 chuckled, satisfied that there wouldn’t be any police violence, and took a running start before web-slinging away again.

--

“BabyBoy!!” Wade squeaked cheerfully as Peter 3 came in for a landing on the agreed upon rooftop, holding up a bag. “I brought tacos!”

Peter 3 remembered that Wade had been looking for him for two years. “Babe, you’re the best.” He sat down on the edge of the roof and dangled his feet down. Wade plopped next to him, his expressive mask almost giving heart-eyes. Peter 3 tugged his own mask off and grinned. “You gonna gimmie kiss?”

Wade gasped, “Spiderman! What are you doing with your mask off?”

“Wade… nobody knows this face.” Peter 3 snorted, then remembered his doppelganger and paused. “Well…”

“Oh shit you saw a picture of Andrew Garfield, huh?”

“Oh My God Thank You!! Petey and Dr Parker were all just, oh I see a resemblance, but…! Then we figured out he’s like, mirror-image with his features? I mean it’s subtle, but…”

“No, I got that right away. I mean, I did a hard double-take the first time he popped up on my screen, but that was because I knew it wasn’t you, and I kinda thought maybe the TVA had pulled a fast one or just fucked up and like… this was all I was gonna get and… weeelll anyway…” Wade kicked his feet and looked down for something to change the subject. “Taco?”

Peter 3 huffed softly, not missing that veiled admission. “Yes, please.”

“I only did it once here. I wasn’t going to give up, it just… felt like the rug had been swept out and… I was gonna find you no matter what, Babyboy, promise.”

“And you did. We made it.” Peter 3 leaned in and kissed Wade’s jaw where he’d pulled his mask up to eat. Wade turned to face him, then tugged his mask up all the way and smiled softly, leaning in for a proper kiss.

“We did.” Wade sighed happily. “Want rooftop head?”

“Wade, no…” Peter 3 snorted. “Not tonight. Actually I might put the mask back on… we’re on Petey’s turf still, we haven’t really discussed the intricacies of like… how we’re gonna manage the Spiderman image. But public indecency is a no-go for sure.”

“Booo. But fair, I guess.”

Peter 3 picked his mask up and put it back on, rolling it up just enough to eat. “Like old times, eh?”

“Did you help some folks out tonight? I saw you stop and camp for a bit, I was almost gonna head over but… like there wasn’t enough action to suggest you’d been fighting, so…”

“You stalker,” Peter 3 teased. “Yeah, I stopped a mugger? He had a knife. And he fucking clocked me! Like- absolutely did not believe I was Spiderman! With my webs all over him, jumping down from the roof, the whole thing. Because he thinks Spiderman is still a kid. Apparently some people were saying Petey was 14 when his identity got blown up, and… anyway. I was kinda prepared to keep running into that kind of reaction but, nah… Then I caught a car from pulling out too fast into traffic when some idiot flew by that would’ve hit ‘em, and then I kinda stood out in the street and held up the oncoming cars so they could get out. Got flipped off and honked at while someone else called out I love you Spiderman! So yanno. Pretty quiet overall. Caught someone’s phone they dropped off a rooftop party railing.”

“I threatened a couple creeps that were lewding on some young ladies having a nice night out, they went home early.” Wade offered.

“Just threatened?” Peter 3 probed, munching one of the tacos.

“It did not take much! I’ve been out and about enough. They had to walk home of course, no uber is gonna pick you up with that mess in your pants.”

“Ha! Nice.”

“We need to get you a phone. And Dr Parker. Phone store tomorrow?”

“Agreed.”

[waywardsalt]

unorganized ganonbeck brainworms going strong so now im thinking about ssbu ganonbeck cuz thats where it all began and its also just a really good ganonbeck premise

i mean, off the bat, ganondorf is a main playable character (i think y’all call em ‘smashers’? idk) and linebeck in ssbu is a master spirit so theyre both likely going to be known across the board by other spirits and smashers, so… they’re known. they can’t exactly fly under the radar and are generally visually noticeable, too.

i think ssbu ganonbeck is at its funniest when they’re trying to keep it a secret.

i mean, there’s probably hints in the beginning, linebeck going out of his way to watch ganondorf fight, ganondorf being seen talking with linebeck more often, other legend of zelda smashers and spirits having their own complicated feelings about these specific people seemingly getting to know each other better.

(im specifically interested in reactions from… idk specifically villains associated with ganondorf or… ANYONE canonically associated with ganondorf lol. linebeck just has toon link on his side)

the beginning stuff probably ramps up to slightly surprising stuff, linebeck seeking out ganondorf more often despite what people might assume of him, going as far as asking him to get drinks or something, and ganondorf just being oddly interested in what linebeck has to say over some others that make more sense and occasionally brining up things that linebeck has told him, this going all the way up to the two of them being noticeably flustered around each other, clearly signifying something-

and then to onlookers things appear to taper off back to just being friendly.

before things taper off, other spirits and smashers begin to take more notice, keeping an eye on ganondorf and linebeck out of curiosity, but once things appear to settle on just simply being friendly that attention goes elsewhere.

(of course, behind closed doors both literally and metaphorically, at that point ganondorf and linebeck start dating, but due to the prior attention decided it would be best just to keep it under wraps, out of irritation towards that attention and out of some sense that the knowledge of them dating wouldn’t go over well for some of the spirits or smashers, plus [mostly on linebecks end] worry over others making a stir over how odd the pairing is)

so time passes but people also start to notice that ganondorf is… less of an asshole? he seems to be in a better mood more often and while no one is really upset about that, it is curious and worth looking into.

it takes about a week for a group of smashers and spirits to (correctly) deduce that ganondorf is dating someone, and keeping it a secret. they can’t just ask ganondorf, so now there’s this little investigation group trying to figure out who’s caught ganondorf’s eye, and linebeck is removed from the suspect list because of course not, he’s more likely to be afraid of ganondorf and why would ganondorf be romantically interested in some random guy like that, they clearly dont have anything in common- (the group does not know about linebeck’s history of possession [he prefers to keep it secret], he still uses his old facade around the majority of people, and it is not common knowledge that he’s kind of a freak)

ganondorf and linebeck catch wind of the investigation and figure out their own set of excuses and hiding spots and every possible method of keeping things secret, so its practically a game to them as the investigating smashers and spirits go off on a wild goose chase the moment they eliminated linebeck as a suspect.

not every smasher or spirit cares about this investigation (they’ve seen enough relationships pop up and don’t really care about this new one) so in the midst of this mess, ganondorf and linebeck plan their next meetup based on what the investigation group are doing (without accounting for an uninterested party) and wind up getting walked in on by a group of smashers not involved with the investigation

linebeck and ganondorf end up being massively relived that the group that found them wont say anything (i always figure like. lucina (shes seen enough relationship shit to not care rn) cloud (its Not His Business) and sheik (really just wasnt interested) are the ones who find out), and the discovery group leave with exactly one rule: do not let toon link find out.

cue more ganondorf and linebeck figuring out ways to keep things secret, this time with a small group who do know, but they inevitably slip up a few more times so more and more people are in on it until the fact that they are actually dating gets out.

eventually, things flip; ganondorf and linebeck are no longer trying to keep their relationship a secret from everyone, everyone is trying to keep it a secret from toon link.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Hereditary (2018)

Keen viewers will foresee the ending of Hereditary fairly early on. Having seen the film three times now, I’ve realized that's not a bug; it's a feature. The point is that you see the train coming but you can't move out of its way. With a superb performance by Toni Collette at its center, terrific, inventive cinematography and impeccable direction by Ari Aster (his feature-film debut), it's a joy to examine the filmmaking at work. It also happens to be horrifying.

Following the death of her estranged mother, Annie Graham (Toni Collette) attends a loss support group to try and cope. She’s been sleepwalking again and can't shake the feeling that something's... not right at home.

In class, Annie’s son, Peter (Alex Wolff) isn’t paying attention to his teacher's lesson, but he should be. The students are asked whether it’s more tragic for a hero to know they're doomed but be unable to change their fate, or be unaware of the misfortune awaiting them. This idea is what makes the ending of "Hereditary" work. There’s something about watching people slowly inching their way towards annihilation unsettling. With every passing second, you can feel the walls of their cage tightening. You’re an outsider, powerless to react and when the danger is as intense as it is in Hereditary, you’re glad to be nothing but an onlooker. In the most intense scenes, nothing could be more frightening than the characters turning towards you for help. Of course you would if you could. Annie, Steve (Gabriel Byrne), Peter and Charlie (Milly Shapiro) go through so much you don’t want them to suffer but your curiosity has also gotten the better of you. What’s coming will surely make your skin crawl and your hairs stand on end but you want to see just to be sure. Maybe things will go a different way. Or maybe they’ll go exactly how you expect they will.

Key images in the film fill me with dread just thinking about them. It makes me want to claw my eyes out so I don’t have to see them anymore, which makes me admire the filmmaking even more. The longer you look at this movie, the more things you notice. In many scenes there are symbols hidden in the background, there are things standing in the darkness, recurring images and foreshadowing telling you what’s incoming. It all ties back to that question posed to Peter. The more you see, the more you wonder whether you want the characters to know what you do or if you’d rather they stay ignorant of the doom that awaits them. The recurring theme of decapitation is on its own more than enough to give you the willies.

The performance by Toni Colette turns something you would normally passively watch into a reality you’re forced to confront. Her wails as she cries pierce your chest and wrap their fingers around your heart. Her panic as she pieces together what’s actually going on is palpable even if you don’t quite understand all of the “rules”. This film is quite good at giving you the minimum amount of information required and leaving the rest for your mind to fill in the blanks. If you're the king of person that won’t be able to sleep until you know everything that happened, don't worry. There are a few scenes that spell it out for you. Our lead is so good you’re likely to overlook how well everyone else does with their roles. Milly Shapiro, for instance. You’d never guess A) she was 15 at the time and B) that she’s a perfectly normal teenaged girl. Obviously they used prosthetics to make her look the way she does but she so subtly off you just don’t know what to make of her.

There are certain aspects of the film you could criticize. Hereditary is essentially a modern update on a couple of well-known horror films and a scene during the beginning makes it very easy for you to know this story’s final destination. This may detract from some of the fun but it certainly won’t take away the scares. In fact, it gets more intense, more terrifying upon rewatches because your eyes can focus less on what’s happening in the foreground and more on the stuff hidden in the margins. There’s a brilliant scene with a rolling ball every aspiring horror filmmaker needs to take note of. It's just one example of the many scenes ready to conjure up some recurring nightmares. (March 20, 2020)

[tiptapricot]

Moon Knight Gothic

Or: Cryptid/unsettling MK things I think they should have for the fun and goofs 😳🌙🌃 (can work for comic and show continuity, warnings for general creep)

Beneath moonlight, anything white they wear seems to glow or glimmer ever so slightly. And people notice, people swear they do, but the longer they look, the longer they stare at the strange man walking beneath the streetlights, the less it seems to be there

Out of costume, they have eyeshine, which can make the body appear very unsettling at times. Like when workplace party photos come back with a staring shadow in the corner, or someone catches their cabbie watching them in the rearview mirror, right before a pair of headlights flash over the dashboard

The suit has claws, good for climbing buildings and fighting back attackers, especially supernatural ones. Some people wonder if they’re real or not

Pictures and video taken of them while in costume distort them to nothing but a glowing white shape, like something went wrong with the camera, or there was intense glare. No matter what civilians or reporters use no one can seem to get a clear shot of Moon Knight, leaving them to rely on drawings and descriptions instead, heightening the vigilante’s urban mythicality and shaping them into a web of different stories

On full moons, they get extra weird. Their clothes and hair seem to move with lesser gravity, and when they walk past water, it pulls towards them ever so slightly

When the moon is a crescent, they can get lost in their breathing, every inhale feeling bigger, like their chest is open and pluming and expanding indefinitely, and every exhale makes a cloud, no matter how cold it actually is (“It was said that when Khonsu caused the crescent moon to shine […] all nostrils and every throat was filled with fresh air.”x)

When fighting in Khonshu’s name, their knuckles break in the shape of bursting stars, and when their blood hits the ground, it sounds like spattering sand, seeping out from the wound of an ancient desert

All their bruises seem to heal splochily, until they almost resemble craters

Similarly to visual media, Moon Knight always seems silent on recordings, like the sound was sucked out of the air around them. When fighting them, it seems, no one can hear you scream

When upset or panicking, their skin temperature drops instead of warming, until it’s past ice cold, almost like the void of space. (Some people swear Moon Knight isn’t alive, they know it, they’ve touched him. No no no… he’s something else entirely)

Their ears don’t ring when they get hit or hear something loud, instead when sound dips, they hear this kind of thing instead

Show specific: Sometimes when a crook is pulled close to Moon Knight’s face, they swear they can hear something rattling in every breath, like the memory of two bullet casings still shaking around inside

The way the suit moves, and shifts, and bends, onlookers will swear that it’s not a suit at all. It sticks too closely, seems to expand, gives off too much heat when Moon Knight swings in to save them. No, it’s not a suit at all, they think. It’s his skin

Comic specific: Their fingernails grow faster, much faster than usual, and sometimes, when they get long, they reminds them of bird talons. Others, all they see is the illusion of a long dead corpse

The House of Shadows feels like a welcome place, the way the walls creak and shift like they’re breathing. And Moon Knight feels welcome inside it, the way their chest stills beneath the costume like they’re not

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Kara’s eyes get caught on the sway of hips, on black fabric that literally hugs every curve of Lena’s body and Kara is powerless to do anything but watch, Lena absolutely vibrant on the dancefloor.

J’onn insists and Kara can’t help but join them, the weight on her shoulders lifting, even if just for a night, because Lena is laughing, her nose is all scrunched up and cute, and Kara just want to live in this moment forever, live in this moment of happiness with her family and friends.

If Kara maybe dances a bit more...enthusiastically than normal, then it has everything to do with having fun with her friends and nothing to do with the fact that Lena’s smile is so bright and beautiful as she laughs at her.

It takes her a while to notice, eyes mostly on Lena as she dances, to realise that everyone has split off into couples.

Alex and Kelly are tangled in each other, sharing slow kisses as they sway on the spot. Which, ew, but it’s also cute, she knows how ridiculously happy her sister is, and she’s ridiculously happy for her sister in turn.

Nia and Brainy are close, swaying too slow to the music playing, foreheads pressed together as they do.

She glances back at Lena, dancing close but not close enough, and she wants that, she wants what Nia and Brainy have, wants what Alex and Kelly have, she wants that with Lena.

Lena’s hand snags hers from mid-air fingers loosely tangled together as they continue to dance, the movement bringing them slightly closer than before.

“You’re good at dancing,” Lena comments, her eyes sparkling, and Kara doesn’t know whether she’s joking or not, but her cheeks heat, the blush spreading warm down her neck anyway.

“It’s from years of practice in my kitchen,” Kara answers, mildly distracted by Lena’s smile and the feel of their fingers still tangled together.

They dance closer, their joined hands keeping her near Lena and Kara hopes she never lets go.

“I like your hair like this,” Lena says, free hand reaching out to brush a few loose strands of Kara’s wavy hair behind her ear. Lena’s fingers brush the shell of her ear and Kara has to fight the urge to lean into the touch.

The move brings them even closer, the smell of Lena’s perfume sweet, her smile pink as Kara tries desperately not to glance down at Lena’s lips.

“Thank you. I like your hair like this too,” Kara replies, feeling emboldened by Lena’s casual touches. She reaches out, her hands threading together behind Lena neck, under her braid, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the back of Lena’s neck.

This touch is less casual.

They’re close now, and if Kara didn’t know any better, if she was just an onlooker observing this moment, she’d think they were a couple too.

“Thank you,” Lena smiles, her own hands falling to Kara’s hips.

Kara feels the touch like fire through the thin material of her dress.

Kara’s not sure that friends usually dance like this. She knows friends don’t usually have to fight the urge to look down, don’t usually have to fight the urge to lean forward and kiss their friend, don’t have to fight the urge to keep their eyes from the low cut of their friend’s dress.

It’s because Kara’s so focused on keeping her eyes in an appropriate location, that she notices the way Lena’s own eyes dip down, the way they get caught as they gaze down.

Kara’s whole body flashes hot when she realises Lena is looking at her mouth as they dance, which is more of just a sway now, barely in time to the music.

Green eyes glance up, both a question and fear in them. Kara knows that fear, knows how long she’s agonised over whether she should tell Lena how she feels and risk their friendship or keep her feelings a secret.

Kara tugs Lena forward, just the slightest bit of pressure behind her neck but Lena gets the message, leaning in to meet Kara halfway.

The first touch of Lena’s mouth against hers is electric, even as nerves course through her body. It feels like her heart might beat out of her chest it’s beating so fast, the rhythm matching Lena’s own, but Lena’s lips are soft and they’re perfect and when Lena sighs, Kara can feel it in her bones, this is going to be the last first kiss of her life.

Lena shifts, slants her lips more over Kara’s as she tugs her forward by hands still on her hips and then Kara’s mind goes blissfully blank when a tongue brushes her lower lip.

Lena tastes like scotch and something sweet and all she wants to do is never stop kissing her.

“Oh my God!”

Kara freezes at the words, still in her position pressed close to Lena. Lena freezes too, lips still pressed together for a long moment before they slowly pull apart, and turn to find four sets of eyes watching them.

Brainy and Alex look surprised, while Kelly and Nia look delighted.

Kara presses her lips together, turns back to Lena, to both check she’s okay and see how they should handle this, because sharing their first kiss in front of their friends was never how she thought this moment would go.

Lena’s cheeks are red, the colour spread down her neck, and suddenly Kara wants to press her lips there instead.

“Are you okay?” Lena asks, ducking slightly to catch Kara’s eyes and oops, she is definitely staring this time.

“I’m great,” Kara says, her grin uncontrollable even as she tries to stay composed.

“Yeah?” Lena asks, a shy smile on her face, said smile growing as Kara’s does.

Kara tangles her fingers with Lena’s again. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Alex repeats, Kara having forgotten they had an audience again. “Was that your first kiss?”

“Leave them alone,” Kelly says, a gentle hand on Alex’s waist as she steers her fiancée away. The look Kara gets from Alex definitely says “we’ll talk later.”

Nia has to be distracted by Brainy too.

“So,” Kara says, once they’re alone.

“So,” Lena repeats, smile no longer shy as she looks at Kara. It’s now full of soft affection, her eyes crinkled in the corners, and Kara thinks this might be her favourite moment ever.

Kara bites her lip. “Can I kiss you again?”

Lena squeezes their joined hands and Kara’s heart melts. “Always.”

[erwinsvow]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

summary: you can't help but get jealous at all the girls who want your boyfriend, eren, the star of the basketball team.

warnings: jealousy, needy!reader, eren uses the petname bunny several times, teasing / kissing, generally eren being hot

something in the way he moves around, so effortlessly and with a swan-like grace you had never expected from a guy as big as eren is, has you shamelessly staring in the middle of his game. you can’t peel your eyes off of him, his sweaty figure and shiny skin reflecting the lights of the court.

the way he has his hands on the ball, gripped tightly and dribbling, before throwing a long toss to jean, is suddenly making you feel clammy and hot. it could be the heat of the packed gym, everyone’s bodies packed tightly together on the bleachers, watching the highly anticipated game of the season, but you know it’s something else entirely.

you wonder to yourself if he even sees you from his distance, or if you’re just a blurred face among hundreds of onlookers. you were wearing his comfortable hoodie, his number emblazoned on the back and his last name above it, but you doubted that he could even tell.

the chatty girls behind you certainly could, though. it didn’t even take a few seconds after you had sat down for the talking to start. not-so-hushed voices discussed your boyfriend, and how good he looked playing, how his muscular arms were tense and bulging today, how no one else on the team even held a candle to him, the list went on and on.

“except jean, maybe. i just love tall guys, you know he’s probably packin—”

“doesn’t matter what he’s packing, i bet eren is way bigger. i’ll find out one day.”

“keep dreaming. he has a girlfriend, you know,” a third voice pops in.

“that’s never stopped me before,” the other girl throws in with a laugh, and you feel your face burning at the audacity of this stranger—someone your eren has probably never even spoken to—talking about him like he was a conquest. talking about him as though you didn’t even exist.

on any other day, you would have ignored her and her friends, not even paying them any mind at all. but for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing to eavesdrop. what if eren thought this girl was prettier than you? what if he wanted her instead? certainly, no one could blame him, the university’s starting point guard, for bouncing between his fans.

the very thought made you feel dizzy and lightheaded. you don’t even notice eren’s eyes trailing you as he notices your happy, smiling expression change into a watery, downturned look.

“where’s that girl he was with at half-time?” one of the voices asks, and you feel yourself stiffen at the mention. they’re talking about you.

“i’m not sure, probably in the front somewhere. wasn’t she wearing—” the girl is interrupted by a loud shush! you assume that one of her friends has informed her that you’re not in the front, but rather just a row ahead of them.

you turn your head quickly to look at them before the final buzzer goes off, and the rest of the crowd erupts in cheers. they had won, of course, but you’re less focused on that and more focused on the red-faced girl that’s suddenly speechless when she had so much to say earlier.

you make your way down to where eren is with the rest of his teammates, all smiling and cheerful now that the game was over, and fall right into his outstretched arms.

it didn’t matter how sweaty or tired he was, the post-game hug was always your favorite moment to share with him. you know those girls, and likely many others, have their eyes plastered to the back of your head now as you embrace your boyfriend.

“you okay, baby, you looked a little-” eren begins, before you silence him with a kiss. if they weren’t looking before, they definitely are now. your tongue just meets his for a second before he pulls away.

“woah, there,” he says, but you know he’s not surprised. after all, he should be used to your behavior by now. “what’s gotten into you, bunny?”

the pet name makes you sigh contentedly, almost unsure of why you doubted eren before.

“i just really need you, eren. can we go home now?” you mumble, finding your place in his arms as he turns around to bid goodbye to his teammates. they’re all used to the sight of you like this, clinging to his touch and shyly looking away as though they didn’t all know what eren was going to do with you tonight.

“sure, bunny, let’s go then,” he whispers back, close to your ear and making you shiver at the heat of his breath hitting your skin.

he leads you out of the packed gym deftly, a hand on your waist guiding you as though you’d wander away and get lost without him. he opens the door of his car for you, acting as the perfect gentlemen until he gets you to his room alone.

you’re not even completely into his apartment when he pushes your back against the door, the grip he has on your waist traveling down to the soft flesh of your ass, kneading tightly.

“tell me,” he starts in a gentle voice that you don’t trust for a second, “what’s making you act so slutty for me today?”

his lips find their way to your neck quickly, as he places hot, sloppy kisses all the way up the column of your neck. you’re searching for an answer, but you can’t think of anything when he takes the soft skin between his teeth roughly.

he’s sucking hard, much too excited at the thought of leaving fresh, new marks on your sensitive skin. the ones from a few weeks ago have just faded, and he’s been so busy with practice he hasn’t gotten a chance to mark you up again.

“i- ohh!” just as a coherent thought enters your mind, eren positions his thigh between your legs, holding you open and applying desperately needed pressure to your aching core.

“huh, baby, what was that?” he questions again, mockingly. he pulls away from your neck and you release a whine, but silence yourself when he meets your eyes. there’s a look in his eyes that you know better than to defy, his smoldering gaze sending little bolts of electricity through your body. “you have to speak up, or i can’t give you anything.”

“no, no, please, i-” you ramble, before eren releases his thigh from your center and tries to set you on your legs. they feel like jelly, shaking and unsteady, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. one of his hands is on your thigh, keeping you upright against the door without the slightest effort, and the other finds its way to your cheek, cupping softly and wiping away a frustrated tear from your cheek.

“you gonna answer me now?”

“i-i heard these girls, behind me at the game. they were talking about you,” you finally get out, eyes getting watery again. “they said they wanted you, and i-”

“aw, bunny,” he coos, stroking your cheek softly. “and you got jealous, huh?” you feel yourself nodding dumbly.

“they- they shouldn’t say stuff like that. you’re not theirs, you’re mine,” you say, using your hand to push eren’s lips to yours. you kiss him hotly, open-mouthed and sloppy, making sure his tongue finds yours and refusing to let him pull away.

“yours, right bunny?” he affirms when you finally stop to breathe again. his hand cups your wetness through your panties, skirt hitched up and pussy throbbing at the contact, though it was barely anything compared to what you really wanted.

“mmh, right,” you murmur back, in a daze.

“let’s go show them who i belong to, then. you don’t mind if i record us, right?” he says, with a wicked smirk, looking at his bunny nodding.

[thedreamermusing]

Harry identified with and reluctantly admired Snape even before ‘The Prince’s Tale’

So, 'Albus Severus' is admittedly is a controversial name in fandom due to Snape's own dubious morality. And people also think that Harry going from hatred to admiration of Snape so quickly is unrealistic. But, that's not true. There's no doubt that Harry hated Snape, but amid that hatred, there was also reluctant admiration and even identification with Snape. Let's see a few examples:

Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might be dangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape’s memories, that he had just seen scenes from Snape’s childhood, and it was unnerving to think that the crying little boy who had watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of him with such loathing in his eyes. . . .

Probably the first time Harry is looking at Snape as anything more than his hated Potions professor. But it is still significant considering Harry's own abusive childhood.

His reaction to Snape's Worst Memory:

What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him — it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.

His immediate reaction after watching Snape's memory is to empathise with Snape, because he knows what it's like to be bullied in front of a crowd.

We also get hints of how similar Snape and Harry are. Even Hermione comments on it:

Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff —” “Well,” said Hermione, “I thought he sounded a bit like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yes, when you were telling us what it’s like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn’t just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn’t that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?”

Hermione comments on how they both sound similar. Snape and Harry do have a lot in common as we will find out later, but this is one of the first hints of another character noticing it.

But imo, the largest culmination of Harry's reluctant admiration is in the case Snape's old textbook, when he called himself the Half-blood Prince. This is teen Snape; Snape as Lily knew him, Snape without all the baggage that he has with Harry. And what is Harry's opinion of him?

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princes copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that was earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry's admiration is practically dripping through the pages. He's staying up at night reading the book, admiring the boy who was so clever.

One of the most interesting lines is also this:

“My dad used this spell,” said Harry. “I — Lupin told me.” This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be —?

Harry is so attached to Snape's old textbook that he wishes it was his father. Harry is hungry for father figures and the fact that he elevates the Prince to this kind of figure from just his textbook is significant. It shows the lost potential between Harry and Snape. Who is the Prince but a younger Snape? It shows that had Snape been a little less bitter and damaged, he could have been a mentor figure for Harry.

These two have so much in common: their lives are defined by Voldemort and they're not truly free until he's dead, they're both half-bloods who grew up in the muggle world, they both suffered abusive childhoods, they were both bullied, they're both sarcastic and dry, they both can get very vicious (Snape more so obviously), they're both completely loyal to Dumbledore, they're both brave and stubborn as hell. I truly believe that had Snape not been so blind, he could have been a great father figure for Harry simply because of how similar they are and how much they could relate to each other.

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn — Harry’s stomach churned — how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught Harry so much…the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen…He could not…

Harry thinks of the Prince as a friend and guide.

“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!”

“I don’t believe this,” said Hermione. “You’re actually defending —“

“I’m not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, it’s really good’ — he was just making notes for himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else…”

Even after 'Sectumsempra', Harry defends the Prince like this. As a side note, I also think that Harry's relationship with the Prince somewhat mirrors Lily's relationship with Snape. They both admired and loved the boy who was so clever and imaginative and were willing to blind themselves as that boy went deeper into the dark side.

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore’s inexcusable trust in Snape…but as Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the same…in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him so much..

This is after Snape killed Dumbledore, and Harry's primary feeling about the Prince is one of betrayal. Ultimately, I believe Harry's relationship with the Prince is pivotal in his understanding of Snape, and I firmly believe that this also informed his decision to name his son after Snape. After watching Snape's dying memories, Harry's admiration of the Prince returned and merged with his feelings towards Snape. It is no coincidence that the chapter revealing Snape's true allegiance is called 'The Prince's Tale', telling us that Snape truly is the same Prince Harry admired and wished was his father.

Harry's feelings towards Snape after the Prince's tale is obvious. Throughout Snape's memories, he identifies with him, not James. He immediately notices that James has an air of being loved and adored while Snape conspicuously lacks it. He cannot bring himself to watch Snape's Worst Memory again. After watching the memories, he identifies with both Snape and Tom Riddle as 'the abandoned boys' who were outcasts and only found their home in Hogwarts.

In short, I believe Harry's admiration of Snape was not sudden or inexplicable but something he always reluctantly felt. He identified with Snape even when he hated him. Once he saw Snape's memories in his entirety, he understood and identified with them even more because Harry has been in Snape's shoes. He's been a dark-haired, abused, bullied, half-blood outcast. And he knows how hard it is to be brave in those circumstances. While the readers might have trouble understanding why Snape would have a child named after him, Harry doing so is not a surprise.

[semischarmed]

“Ben”

I was out on a socially distant walk by the woods when I notice a fire dance across the night sky and into the woods. Against my better judgement, I decide to investigate.

A small glowing silver ball sat among the forest wreckage. I reach out, almost by trance, and immediately feel a spark course through me on contact. In the process, my clothing ignites in brilliant green flame. Then, I feel a presence. Immediately, I turn around, still holding the orb. Amidst the green flame was a puddle of metallic gray slime. It vibrates before sending out a little slimy limb which slowly rocks side to side, as if to examine me, before jumping for my face.

For once in my life, I react quickly enough and instead catch the thing in my hand. It was slick, and unbelievably cold. The mass begins to glow dimly, as I hold it out in front of me. I stare at it expectantly as it again forms a tiny limb, re-examining me. In a flash of green, the little wad of silver goo transforms into what appeared to be a tiny silver human. No, human’s not quite the right word. It was humanoid, sure, but the proportions were all wrong, almost cartoon-like. It had a larger more bulbous head with large reflective eyes and a small, near indiscernible mouth. The hands were larger as well, while the arms and legs were far thinner. Despite strange the sight before me, I sense no ill intent. Its beady little black eyes watch at me, displaying not only life, but intelligence. Words cannot explain how I knew, nor can it explain why I ask my next question out loud in a language it certainly did not understand. “What are you”?

Its eyes begin to glow as it opens its mouth to speak, “Human...” it states in plain english. I jump back, almost dropping the thing out of my hand before catching it. “Thank you. I have chosen a form and language most suitable to your own. I am weak from my crash and from your atmosphere. You are not afraid or angry?” It takes its little arm and gently strokes my skin. “Your body appears to be incompatible with my physiology... perhaps due to your contact with my craft. As I understand it, your species is incredibly hostile. If you are intending on destroying me, my only wish is for a swift and painless death.”

I stood dumbfounded until I realized the small orb-egg-thing he came in was some kind of craft. “uh... this yours?”

“You seem unafraid of my presence and do not appear to intend to destroy me, despite these circumstances. Perhaps my information is incorrect? Has your planet had contact with other such beings previously?” it asked. “No.. uh, I can’t explain it but you don’t really seem like a bad-“

“-Guy” it corrected me. “My closest equivalent to your species is what you would classify a male. You appear shocked. Are you alright?”

Holy shit an actual, real-life alien! And it speaks English! I screamed in my head. Despite the absurdity, I cannot help but respond plainly, “Oh, um, this planet has not had any contact before. At least not that I’d be aware of.”

“I see, you are a friend then. Thank you human, I am in debt to you” it states. Looking at the small humanoid before me, I cannot help but want to protect it. It obviously did not intend to do anything or it would have killed me by now. Still, I felt somewhat bad, he really did not seem like a bad guy and, from the movies, it never usually ends well for the alien.

“You came in a big crash, right? So the government or whatever is probably looking for you. We should probably find a safe place for you, um... what can I call you, anyway?” I ask. It looks at me in silence again, then flashes an impossibly bright, green light from its hands before pondering for a moment, and stating “You have not lied. Thank you for your sincerity and your support. I may be called Ben.”

“Ben?” I can’t help but chuckle a little. “You travel all the way across the universe and you’re just plain old Ben?” Its formed its own little smile, which I find endearing. “My true name is—“ the rest was unintelligible. “Ben it is!” I laugh, “Look, we need to get you out of here. I’ve seen what they do to aliens in the movies.” Ben produces a small oddly heavy rock. “Understood. Please. Drop this into my crash site. It should cover our traces” it states in a weak smile before falling over momentarily. I oblige.

“Cool, cool. So...um.. what now? Also, are you alright?” I ask.

“Your planet... It is poison to my form. I am moments away from death. I need a genetic input to adapt to this atmosphere. I would feel safest inside a human.” Inside?

“Well.. uh... i dont really have much going on, on a friday night so...”

It smiles again. “I appreciate the gesture, friend, but as I have mentioned, our forms are incompatible. As such, I require a different vessel. Please select any of your choice.”

“You’re a little forward, buddy” I add playfully.

“Apologies human, your language is somewhat difficult to grasp. I appreciate any and all attempts at assistance”. The little silver alien in my hand sits down.

“Ok, let’s get you somewhere safe... Anyway I know just the guy....”

Fucking Austin. That smug tool was the my bully from way back when and was/is a massive jerk. He was also fucking hot and he knew it. I think he got off on it too- After years of torment, I couldn’t wait for this little alien to do whatever it needed to do inside him.

The walk back is embarrassing as my naked form scrambles in the dark, hoping to avoid any onlookers. Thankfully, it was the dead of night, and our neighborhood is fairly empty. I walk up to his garage, lit by a lone bulb, where he was presumably working on his car. Sweat and grime cover his torso. Of course, he strips to shirtless as soon as he notices me, offering me a tantalizing peek, like he always did when he brought a girl over. “Why are fucking naked you creep. The fuck you want, fag?” He sneers as his eyes immediately lock on to the small orb I am using to cover my junk.

“THIS!” I shout, extending out my other arm, holding little alien man. For a moment, nothing happens and he raises his eyebrows in amusement. It quickly shifts in shock when Ben springs to life, jumping onto Austin’s bare chest. The little silver man clings to his sweaty chest hairs, using them as leverage to scramble up Austin’s face.

“The fuck?!” He spat as he swats at the little alien. With a fervor, Ben dodges and continues inhumanly and follows with his quick dash, crawling up to Austin’s right nose. Austin attempts to get the little silver man off him but to no avail. Despite his shape, Ben is incredibly slippery, and Austin’s thick fingers cannot get a good grasp.

Austin screams as Ben has lodged himself inside Austin’s right nose, secreting a silvery slime while he burrows ever deeper into him. Austin’s eyes shut tight and his mouth opens in anguish. “FUCK!” he shouts as he tries to pull my friend’s tiny legs out. Ben is victorious in this struggle and Austin’s fingers again slip. “AHRRG” He shouts, while right side of his face crinkles in pain. I watch in amusement as Austin is reduced to small, rhythmic grunts. “....Fu-...Fu-... FF....hu...hu”. I no longer see any semblance of my alien friend so he must have crawled deep, deep inside of Austin.

Stillness washes over Austin before he starts again, mumbling slowly. “S-stop.... get out” he repeats, as his body starts swaying back and forth and his head bobs forwards and backwards. His eyes roll to the back of his head in delirium. Abruptly, he screams “GET THE FUCK OUT” in an angry growl and one eye rolls back go lock on to me. “YOU!” He shouts. Before he can move any closer, the veins in his body flare to life and I notice they start writhing, throbbing, coursing with some silvery liquid before returning to normal. Austin’s face quickly goes from anger into unconscious stupor as a line of silvery drool escapes his mouth and his entire body begins trembling. He slumps foward and then falls. I run forward and struggle to try to hoist the massive pile of quivering meat up. Still, he topples over, falling right on top, crushing and pinning me beneath the weight of his muscled form.

Despite the situation, I am completely entranced. I can barely breath from the weight of Austin on top, only managing steady, shallow breaths. He continues convulsing, causing the day’s worth of grime and sweat to smear onto me. Hot. Just feeling him like this, feeling his skin meet and rub across mine, was turning me on. This was physically the closest I have ever been to this man. His convulsions slowly die down, until he is just sleeping on top of me, pinning me to his dirty garage floor. I remark him, the breathing in his shallow breaths, the heat from his previous struggle, his salty, putrid sweat that now caked both of us. I was taking in all the Austin that I had previously only dreamt of having.

His gentle sleep is broken when his eyes shoot wide open. They’re incredibly wide, dilated, glassy. Silver tears escape their corners. His lips curl into an open mouth, breathy smile, and he motions to speak “..... ahhhhhhh” he states moving the muscles on his face and vocal cords as if for the first time. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I could clearly tell what was happening. Enough movies and TV and wishful dreams to more or less grasp what had just occured. The man before me was not Austin-at least, not the Austin I knew. This was all Ben.

“Sorr-“ he murmurs, as he pushes himself and his weight off me. He watches himself, first moving his digits one at a time, while he examines how muscle and sinew stretch and contract to accommodate his commands. He gently rubs his hands together, as if to wash them, remarking on every feeling. With these gentle fingers, he traces over his left bicep, following it’s curves and valleys, as if he had sculpted them himself. He tugs a little at strands of his armpit hair, remarking on the new texture, before sniffing the droplets of sweat that had clung to his fingers and making a sour face. “You humans are so fascinating. It’s like this body is constantly producing its own serum. what a wasteful process. Such a high temperature as well... your are.. inefficient models.” He licks his right bicep like a cat, which causes a stirring in my pants. “Still, these byproducts of your living... they are quite delicious”.

Austin’s tour then follows his chest. “I see you are bound to your forms, with no ability to shift”.’ He cups his left nipple, remarking at the musculature within. “Hmm... that description is inaccurate...You appear to be somewhat capable of physical change, though not as drastically as my species.” He twirls a finger around his left nipple, smiling slightly at the stimulation. “Oh...though your species has a far heightened pleasure ceiling. This is...” He trails as he repeats the maneuver with his right nipple and stifles a moan. I stand, awestruck and slightly horny at the sight of my former bully pleasuring himself. He continues, taking his hands further down and feeling each ab before he stops at his pants. Austin pauses, curious, raising his head as if to scan his own brain for information, before flatly stating his catchphrase “Bet you’d like to suck this fat cock, wouldn’t you?” He spat to the side before immediately resuming his former tone, “Apologies, human emotions are... difficult to reign in. This vessel is responding to my intrusion unpredictably...“ He then wears Austin’s personality again. “But anyway thanks bitch, for giving me this hot, hot, jock cock. Time for me to pay up. I got cash... booze... weed... other shit” he winks. “So what’ll it be?”

In the heat of the moment, I could only reply back what I wanted. What I’ve always wanted. “Let me suck your fat cock” I reply automatically.

The mood shifts immediately and Austin’s face is perplexed. “This function you are requesting, it does not lead to procreation. It lacks any of your societal benefit...What good does it do you?” I decide to push a little further than I normally would have. “Let me show you” I state, giving him a wink. I strip Austin down and gently grab his thick cock, relishing in the moment. It flares to life, slowly hardening, increasing in size. I clasp my hand a little tighter around the rod start with slow, rhythmic strokes. Of course, I look to the face Ben was wearing for any cues, but it remains emotionless. I start to pull away before Ben finally speaks up “I see... benefit. Please, continue demonstrating”. Fuck. After all these years. All his teasing, he was finally here and he was finally mine.

“My body appears to recall this... this behavior is consiered gay, yes”

“Fuck yeah it is....”

“My body... these memories I have commandeered indicate this is something Austin is neither familiar nor entranced with. I will try to apply its equivalent knowledge accordingly” he stated flatly, somewhat confused at the situation. “Apologies... as I have mentioned, your language is a little complex.” I ignore him and continue.

“I personally.. to find this behaviour... hmmm.... acceptable...but.. he.. appears to.. I... Hmmm.... Fuuuuck!” he screamed, as his body abruptly leaned forward. His emotionless face begins to dance with a wellspring of feeling. It cringes first, then flashes into one of bliss, then pain, anger, intimidation, until settles into sneer. Mine of course flashes imminent doom. Oh Shit.

“Uh.. little buddy? You there?” I ask nervously. He grabs me, dragging my face near his. I am prepared for the worst.

“You know, he really fucking hates this. I can feel him resisting... Fuck you!” He spits. I still cannot tell who is who, until he clarifies. “Austin must really, really hate you.... but I dont” He leaned his face further in, giving me little chance to react before he jams a thick slimy tongue into my mouth. When he pulls back, his face then showed an odd emotion-cute, even. He was looking for approval. I, turned on by the past events, quietly nod in shock. Emotion immediately shifts back. “Come here, bitch!” he screams, pulling me back to him, bringing our faces close together while he hocks a wad of Austin’s spit at me. That part, I was familiar with and I instantly wince, expecting the normal pummeling I’d get. Instead, he sticks his hand down to scoop some of cum he had just released and aggressively smearing it all over my face and running Austin’s seed through my hair. “You’re mine forever, you get that right? Fuckin twerp. You fucking want this, right?” Austin stated with a sneer. He jams his tongue into my mouth again for another sloppy kiss and I explode cum in my underwear. Goddamn this was hot. Fuck. All those years of torture and in the end, here he was, seeking my approval, seeking to be mine. The sneer plastered on his face shifts immediately to one of concern and validation-seeking.

“Are you alright, friend? I apologize for the scare, I was attempting to follow-“

“No, no, no...” I mumble in heat. “Turn... FUCK...turn whatever the fuck that was back on. This is, god, this is everything.”

My little buddy complies, rolling Austin’s head and eyes back before immediately shifting his face back to his trademark sneer and giving my face a sloppy lick. “Bro, this body fucking hates you. You know? Feelings are created by brain and all that shit, like damn... all I wanna do inside this hunk of flesh is give you the pummeling you fucking deserve.” he states menacingly, before giving my face another lick. “But dont worry I fucking love you, bro. Look at me when I’m fucking talking. I am Austin. New and improved. Maybe this was what I was missing in my home-world. Maybe your degenercy has tainted me. Maybe this vessel has. To be honest, we don’t really give a fuck. Well, he does but I speak for us both now. This little... experience...has been a delight and a revelation. According to this meatbag’s brain ‘you’re gay as shit’ so, help me to help you. Austin’s gay as shit now too. For you at least. Help your daddy Austin betray his species find me some more of these kinds of males. Whichever you like. I’ll make our wildest dreams come true.” He comes in for another sloppy kiss, and sticks his muscular hand down my pants, corralling my seed and scooping out it out moments later. It is slick with my cum. “Hahaha this body finds this act so revolting. According to his memories, he finds you utterly disgusting. Well... I’m into it, let’s stick some of you inside Dear old Austin. I’ll stuff your cum so deep in him, he’ll never get it out. Our boy is quite the fighter too, he’s resisting me, even now”. Austin regains momentary control. “NO FUCKING WAY” His arm struggles and shakes as it brings the cum-covered hand to his mouth. In the end, Ben is successful and Austin has no choice but to jam the slimy hand to his mouth, slurping each digit individually, caking his insides with me. “Mmmmm but you taste so fucking good...bro... well to me at least. This body physically hates this. Too bad our little Austin isn’t in control right now. And when I’m done with him, he’ll come back wanting more”. He repeats the gesture with his other hand, and cracks his neck, piloting Austin far more naturally. “As long as we keep him well-fed, I can continue to pilot this hot piece of ass without resistance. We will transcend this meat-suit. With me running the show from this fucking hot bod, and you at our side, we will be unstoppable.” He states in deranged glee. I worry slightly until Austin’s persona flips to Ben’s normal formal tone. “Ah, apologies, as you know, this body thinks very highly of himself” he states with a slight chuckle ”but no worries... no more outbursts.”

“Some more information about myself, while I make some rearrangements to this body’s brain. My species has the ability to commandeer others into vessels, though I believe this is a byproduct of our formless nature more than our intended purpose.  You see, home-world has isolationist tendencies. We keep to ourselves. I am somewhat aberrant in this matter. We are powered by genetic diversity, yet they choose to remain within the one world when there is a whole universe outside of home to explore. I am different. I want it all, I want to see, hear, feel, experience what this wonderful universe has to offer. For that, I was cast away, to travel this lone plane with my craft. This life is a quiet one, so I am fortunate to have met you.” He strokes my cheek lovingly with Austin’s hands. I initially wince out of habit, but he seems to have understood. “Thank you, for everything,” Ben says sincerely with a kind smile. I beam back but immediately blurt out what had been on my mind throughout his whole monologue “why me though?”

“As you know, each human’s genetic output is a mix of information.”

“Uh huh” I trail, struggling to follow along.

“Well, your specific combination produces a nectar to our species which we would find intoxicating. Perhaps it had been slightly altered by my crash.”  Ben stares at me with Austin’s eyes, relaying an intelligence that my former bully had never previously had. “Beyond that, in my eons of travel, I have never met a more kind or accommodating individual”

“I like your genetic material, your signature, your blend...it is... hmmm...there is no equivalent phrase for this- at least within your capacity of emotion- but make no mistake, it’s delicious and I would like some more.” His demeanor shifts. “Do you like Austin? Do you like me?” He asks in a playful tone as he circles Austin’s nipple with his finger. Austin then grabs my arms, rubbing them across his abs. “Yeah, this meatsuit is a fucking keeper, isn’t he? I can tell you love this bitch” He teases with Austin’s mannerisms. Ben has been getting really good at this, he’s practically imperceptible from Austin when he’s acting. I nod eagerly in approval, still feeling up my former tormentor as he stretches his arms and gives a yawn.

“Good, good. Well he’s all set. Let me just get our friend Austin prepped. I will to give him some autonomy but, given my penchant for your genetic information, you may see a slight adjustment to his personality.” He winks. “Please bring my pod over, I must conserve some energy, I believe to you humans to understand the equivalent to be hibernation.” I pull the pod up to Austin. “Lower bitch” he commands, grabbing my arms and pulling the pod to his dick. He strips Austin naked before wrapping Austin’s vascular hands over mine, moving them in a way that splits the pod open. He then uses Austins hands to slowly wrap my fingers around his dick. “Pump,” he commanded. I comply, masturbating his dick until it explodes a stream of silver all over the pod. The silver gel congeals into the pod and Austin’s body drops unconscious. I catch the pod and gently place it on his table.

I watch Austin expectantly. He wakes, showing me a look of confusion before sternly asking “the fuck are you looking at, fag?” He then sniffs the air, raising his thick biceps to quickly verify if the smell had been emanating from his armpits. He grimaces, “Goddamn I reek...Did you do this?” Eyes lock with mine as I see only fury blazing. His eyes go wide as his face displays the recollection of our nightly encounter. He quickly runs over, blocking any escape route out of his garage. “You bitch!” He shouts. Before I can react, Austin pushes me up to the wall, shouldering my body and neck and locking me and my airways in place. He raises a fist, and I flinch until... well... nothing. I watch his face, attempting to discern what had just occurred. He releases his grasp slightly, allowing me to finally catch my breath.

He was still furious. Unimaginably so, but I see it tinged with something else as well... shame? And I then notice another feeling, as I begin to feel his heartbeat and breathing quicken. It’s an emotion I have only been able to see in him once- only when Ben had been controlling him. It was lust. He again motions angrily to punch me with a muscular right hook, before stopping his own hand, mere inches from my face.

“I UGH...FUUUUCK....” he shouts, looking away seemingly angry at himself before he punches the wall beside me, leaving a dent. He looks back at me, motioning to give my cheek a tender stroke before he catches himself and shakes his head in anger. “That spiteful bitch! I dont know what little trick you pulled you little asshole, but... hmmmm” he moans, smelling the scent of my fear and desperation... ”man have you always smelled this good?” he mumbled quietly to himself. I decide to take a little risk with this opportunity “Yeah bro? I taste pretty good too,” I state seductively.

That seems to have set him off. He was still somewhat angry obviously, but the lust only seems to have only deepened and overtaken him. He rushes our bodies closer. Sweat drenched abs hover tantalizing close to my stomach, as his sculpted biceps and vascular forearms bound my cheeks. He leans in, inches from my face.

“You want this ass, right? I can be a fag too, only for you” he whispers, leaning even closer to me as I breath in my prior bully’s hot steamy breaths. I instantly go hard. He notices and proceeds by planting a slow, sloppy kiss on my lips. I have to admit, Austin was a great kisser, better than Ben even. Hungrily, Ravenously, his lips pry mine open as his thick tongue dances inside my mouth, greedily tasting me. I reciprocate. In turn, he hugs our bodies together, and I feel his large form encapsulate my own with a warmth and an odd tenderness that I had never even fathomed him capable of generating.

He pulls back, breaking me out of my trance. “But, can you put that little thing back in me... I... uh... together...we uh...look, I want him back. I need him back.“ He begs. “Something...missing inside me.... fill it”.

Goddamnit Ben. I gesture with my head to the motionless pod containing my friend while I chuckle to myself. “He’s sleeping”. Slight adjustment my ass.

He looks back at the pod, obviously disappointed. Then he looks at me, gaze softened, the facade from his usual persona all but broken, “Sorry, can’t help myself... well fuck it, I know you always wanted this anyway,” he mumbled as he nuzzled my neck and shoulder, taking in my essence in deep inhales. I feel myself blush as he continues and then does a quick survey of my body. “When he’s using me.. I can feel... I-I know he loves you... look, I know he wants more... but you fucking better- I’m gonna stay your fucking favorite right? You can use me too, or whatever. I can be your bitch. I can be whatever you want me to me... Just, keep me around, ok? And keep him inside me” I muse at how the old me would have killed to hear similar words from Austin, years ago.

He pauses for a moment, looking away in disgust at his own actions before yielding and scratching his head as he forces out his next words:

“look man... just... the thing that’s missing from me... well this is gonna be weird ask bro, but...can you cum in my mouth?”

—————

I’m a little bit shit with the titles but thats neither here nor there. Used some other similar stories I’ve read in the past for inspiration. Hope y’all like it. Next one’s probably gonna be a continuation on that Chrysalis one. What kind of possession stories are your favorite? 

[wingsofhcpe]

The Cost of War

written for the @badthingshappenbingo challenge! Today's prompt is "forgetting to eat", although technically it's closer to "refusing to eat". I haven't written anything in... a while so, please bear with how small and unrefined that is. I'm slowly trying to get back on track with my fics, though! Read under the cut.

fandom: shadow & bone

characters: fedyor kaminsky, ivan no last name

He’s been eating way less ever since they returned from their latest mission; and then, after three days, he stops eating altogether.

Ivan berates himself over and over and over for not noticing sooner. Swamped as he was by paperwork, and training exercises, and making sure the youngest Grisha in their squad were faring as well as they could after their first kill… it took him days to notice the way Fedyor’s shoulders slump, how his eyes seem permanently sunken into his face, how his smile, although there, doesn’t reach his eyes.

How, most of the times, his plate goes untouched. He might pick at his food or push it around, giving the onlookers the illusion he’s eating- but that night, as they get up from the dining table with the other Grisha, Ivan realises that Fedyor’s plate is just as full as it were the moment they sat down to eat. He blinks tired stars away from his vision, alert already coursing through his mind. But Fedyor doesn’t stop, until they’re almost to their bedchambers, and doesn’t give Ivan a chance to confront him about it.

“Fedya,” Ivan says as soon as they’re behind the safety of their rooms’ door, no prying ears left to listen, “you didn’t eat much; are you feeling okay?”

Fedyor’s glance slides away from Ivan’s, his dark eyes lightless and laden with guilt. “I’m okay. Really, I just… don’t feel that hungry tonight.”

Lying to each other is pitiful -they’re both Heartrenders, both able to detect the hitch in the other’s heart, the subtle change in their breathing pattern, when they try to conceal the truth. But Fedyor does it anyway, leaving Ivan frowning deeper by the second. He’s not sure how to deal with this- not really. He’s not good with emotions, and he doesn’t know what might be affecting his lover that much. He can understand the shock inflicted on the younger Grisha, seeing this had been their first fight, but Fedyor is a seasoned soldier, having killed more people, more enemies, than Ivan can count. The same goes for him. The dead, lifeless faces of druskelle, eyes filled with horror at their last moments, don’t haunt their nightmares like they used to. It’s kill or be killed, and Fedyor knows it, so if it’s not the recent conflict, then what could the reason be behind the other man’s apparent gloom?

Ivan comes up behind Fedyor as the other is shedding his kefta, draping it carelessly over the nearest armchair. Before he can move away, Ivan wraps his fingers around his arm and, gently but steadily, spins him around and pulls him close. He feels Fedyor let out a small breath, as if surprised, or relieved, Ivan cannot really tell. But some of that tension that has been coiling within his limbs ever since they returned home, eases out of him.

“Sorry.” He whispers, and Ivan knows he’s referring to the lie he tried to sell. He sighs, leaning his forehead against Fedyor’s.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. “Just… tell me what’s wrong. The truth, moye lyubov. What’s ailing you?”

“I…” Fedyor’s voice fades, and he takes a shuddering breath. “You’ll think me silly. Sentimental.”

“Never.” Ivan assures him, a hand coming up to cup Fedyor’s cheek as he draws back, to look into his lover’s dark, troubled eyes. Fedyor sighs, looking away first, but he has seen the trust and honesty in Ivan’s gaze- he knows there’s nothing to fear, no judgement, and certainly no more excuses to hide behind.

“The… the battle.” He starts, slowly, although his eyes still refuse to meet Ivan’s. “They… the druskelle had a Grisha with them. Do you recall?”

…oh. Oh.

Of course. Suddenly everything makes sense, in a way that reminds Ivan of a window being flung open to let morning light pour within a dark, musky room.

Of course. Of fucking course, and he’s such an idiot for not realising sooner.

“…Yes.” He whispers between gritted teeth, furious at himself, “yes, I recall.”

He had tried to forget, really, and he’s much better at doing so than Fedyor, his sweet, idealistic Fedya is. But when he forces himself to remember, he can still see the Tidemaker’s red-rimmed, wide eyes, her yellowed, parched skin, her skeletal fingers. The orange stains of jurda parem around her mouth. The way she answered the druskelle leader’s every beck and call, even when ordered to slaughter her own people, only so she could be given another dose of the drug.

She was so, so far beyond saving, beyond even the slightest possibility of rehabilitation. And she had been a terrible danger, out of control, without a single moment’s hesitation in her vacant stare. She’d killed three of theirs before Fedyor finally stopped her heart.

Killing her was mercy. Ivan could have sworn her expression melted into gentle relief the moment her heart burst like an overripe fruit in Fedyor’s grasp.

But he realises, now that he finally forces himself to relive the moment, to think about it beyond the icy cold that has covered his heart, his conscience, ever since he can remember himself, how terrible it must have truly been for Fedyor. To kill one of their own -a walking corpse, really, a desperate girl stretching out her hand towards them not just to attack but to beg for their help, for their mercy. And Fedyor had crushed that plea- at the cost of a fraction of his own heart, too. To his horror, Ivan realises Fedyor killed part of himself when he killed the poor Tidemaker.

“She was one of us.” Fedyor whispers as if he’s read his mind, voice muffled as he presses his face against Ivan’s shoulder, and Ivan feels a patch of wetness already seeping through the cloth of his kefta. “And I- I killed her. I didn’t even… I couldn’t hesitate. There was no time. She had- she’d killed Olya and Dunya and Bjorek… I couldn’t let anyone else die but -but I killed her, Ivan, she just wanted to be saved and she was barely older than Nina and I- I…”

His next words are lost, dissolving into incomprehensible sobs as he clings to Ivan, who holds him tight in return, tucking Fedyor’s head under his chin and pressing their bodies close as if he can take that hurt from him, absolve him of the memory and guilt that will forever haunt him.

Ivan doesn’t say it wasn’t Fedyor’s fault. He doesn’t say he saved them all by choosing to end the girl’s suffering. He doesn’t speak at all, because he knows that’s not what Fedyor needs right now. Right now, he just needs to cry, and let it out, and maybe, just maybe, begin to heal.

Ivan knows it’s too much to ask for. But he cannot bear to see this war break Fedyor. Fedyor, with his bright smiles and kind heart and sweet voice, who’s always there to help those in need, who doesn’t think twice before putting himself between an ally and an enemy, who is vicious to all who’d hurt those he holds dear but incomprehensibly tender towards those he loves. Ivan is already a broken mess, his heart a jagged shard, his hands only capable of hurting- but Fedyor is all that is good and kind left in this world, in this saintsforsaken country, and Ivan truly believes that him losing that spark, that cheer, would truly mean there was no hope left for anyone.

War breaks people. War makes monsters of people. But what wouldn’t Ivan give, just to know he could protect Fedyor from it.

[mingoyeob-archive]

45 and 78 with jungkook pls🥺(Btw i love your writing and take your time for part 3☺️)

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

hi thank you guys so much for requesting and also for being patient with me anon! I combined these two asks because you both asked for 78 so other anon you get a little something extra haha! I hope you enjoy <3

45: “Take.It.Off” + 78. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.4k

Around the castle people buzzed and shuffled, zipping past one another like moving pieces in a well organized machine. The sound of numerous conversations and orders being shouted from left and right was only beaten out by the loud rushing water from outside, heavy drops of water hitting newly installed stain glass windows and ringing off like canons. Rain was nothing new to the occupants of Uwhen and not even the downpour outside could stop the bustling maids and the boisterous knights that littered every hall. So it was to Jungkook's surprise when he heard the noise come to a halt, turning his head to follow the direction of everyone's gaze trained on the main entrance. His eyes fell upon the distressing, albeit slightly amusing, sight of you standing drenched from head to toe, looking akin to a shaggy dog he had once seen fall into a river as a young boy.

It wasn’t your fault of course, this was your first rainy season after all. Sure there were a few cloudy days and drizzles that happened here and there but for the most part Aster was typically a sunny land with what seemed like never ending summers. So how were you expected to know that during this time storms came through quicker than the drop of a hat, nose untrained to picking up the fresh scent of lingering salty rain that was always a tell-tale sign of what was coming. And by the time you were able to feel the light drops of water landing on the top of your head it had already been too late and the next thing you knew you were trudging through thick mud, struggling to pull the train of your dress and walk with the weight of your heavy petty coat holding you down.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed and rushed over to you in only a few strides. His hands found themselves landing on your shoulders as he worriedly looked you over, eyes full of concern. He could feel you shaking under his fingertips. “What the hell happened to you, my love?”

You could only gaze up at him through wet lashes, lips set heavily in a pout. You could tell he was waiting for you to answer but you were too caught up with the fact that everyone had stopped to stare at the pair of you. Too afraid to sound like a fool, you had no intention of explaining yourself out here in the open, only letting out a small whimper as you huddled your arms close to yourself to stave off the cold. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, head whipping around to glare at the onlookers who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. “Fucking hell- what are you all looking at!? Get back to work!”

Like a flip was switched, the noises returned and everyone went back to rushing past each other. All except your hand maiden who came running over the minute she saw a clear path over to your dripping figure. “Lady y/n! Let me get you back to your bed chambers and I’ll run you a fresh bath and get you a new pair of clothes and-”

“No need.” Jungkook had brushed past the maid, arm locked heavily around your frame as he started escorting you back to your room, not even sparing her a glance. “I can do all of that perfectly fine on my own.”

She sputtered and followed hastily behind you two, “But- but sir! Are you sure you don’t wan’t-” Jungkook's steely eyes had her mouth clamping shut and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Of course, my apologies. Please let me know if you need anything else, my lord.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before bowing and leaving in a hurry.

Jungkook merely grunted and continued walking the two of you up the staircase, your graze trained behind you as you watched your hand maiden scurry away. “You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You muttered, letting out a small hmph. Jungkook just gazed down at you briefly before pretending as if he didn’t hear your snarky comment. Though you swore you saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

Upon arriving at the room, Jungkook had immediately pushed you into the center of the room, broad shoulders looming more than a few inches over you just an arms reach away. He sighed slowly and crossed his arms, “Take it off.”

You deadpanned, “What?” you say. You had heard what he said, but you hoped he wouldn’t say it again. That hope was mistakenly misplaced.

“I said take your clothes off. They’re soaking wet and you’ll get sick.” Jungkook said, talking as if this whole thing was just a giant nuisance. His facial expression was cold (as usual), so it was hard to really tell if he was serious or not (also very usual). “Once you undress I’ll give you a bath-”

“No no I’m fine! Haha no need for that, yup completely fine.” Your attempt at passing off the situation in an effort to avoid his offer was very unconvincing. “It’s not even that cold, I’ll dry off soon.” That was a lie. You were freezing, Jungkook could practically hear your teeth chattering as you spoke.

You were obviously uncomfortable with his request. He wasn’t mad, in fact, he completely understood. Despite being married for 3 years (most of it being spent apart except for one short night), he had only ever seen you naked once. At least in real life it was only once, his dreams were a completely different story.

Jungkook just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “Y/N…” he let out a sound of annoyance and took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his hand and fixing you with a steely glare. He hated having to get stern with you. “Take.it.off.”

This time you could definitely tell he was serious and your nervous smile immediately dropped, replaced quickly by a look of defeat. You knew you had lost this time so there was no point in trying to push off the inevitable so instead you just sighed and began undoing your corset, Jungkook standing quiet as he watched. You could practically hear a pin drip, the room was so silent. It was deafening.

When Jungkook saw your fingers get to the last loop, he waited with bated breath. Finally, he thought, he really had to talk to someone about making your dresses less complicated to get off (for your convenience, of course). He watched you gulp just as the cord was set free and then stared transfixed as the material fell, pooling around your ankles. If he wasn’t already holding his breath, he would’ve choked. His dreams were doing you absolutely no justice.

By now your face was on fire, heat feeling your cheeks to the point you no longer even felt cold. And Jungkook's stare was only making it worse, your head filling with so many nervous ramblings and worries. Have I gotten fat since he last saw me? And was that stretch mark always there? Wait, when did my thighs get so big?

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous.” your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook had whispered the words completely in awe, irises finally filled with something other than stony resistance (dare you say, love?). You don’t know how, but for some reason those simple words had all your insecurities fading away, at least for the time being. Because the way he looked at you in this moment, it didn’t matter if you had gained a stretch mark or two, cause you knew he would still see you as nothing less than beautiful.

It was hard for you to say exactly how he was feeling since he didn’t say much else before turning around to head into the bathroom (presumably to run that bath that he mentioned earlier), but for someone who was a man of a few words, just one sentence could mean a thousand. And you hoped he would stay with you long enough for you to hear a thousand more.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Okay but… In a world where Maglor and Galadriel interact semi-regularly in the Third Age, everyone but them would come out of that with so many questions.

Because it’s pretty well established that the Noldor have rather intricate customs, but presumably those either died out or changed when they came to Middle Earth, different lives call for different traditions and all. So by the Third Age (wherein the reaming Noldor probably also mixed in Sindar culture) the traditions and social customs would be completely different.

And both Maglor and Galadriel use these new customs just fine on their own, but when they’re together they slip back into old world ways. And it’s just different enough to set onlookers on edge, although they can’t quite pinpoint why the way Maglor escorts Galadriel is so unnerving, or why their way of using cutlery feels off. All this coupled with their usage of Old Quenya (which at this point is almost impossible to understand) makes everyone else very grateful that the two don’t live in the same realm.

aight i'm just imagining this in the context of my headcanons of third age maglor being absolutely feral. like he sleeps in ditches and eats fish raw and radiates intensely creepy vibes even when he's trying to be nice - except when he's talking to galadriel. if she's about, he'll pick the bugs out of his hair, wipe the muck out of his face, sometimes even willingly have a bath, unbelievably. even his body language shifts from horror movie monster to pretty regular snarky jackass

it's less obvious on galadriel's end, but the lady of the golden wood is noticeably less omnibenevolent god-queen when she's around her somehow-not-dead evil cousin. she's cattier, less serene, and her deliberately cultivated aura of ancient wisdom tends to fall away. she's still formal, but it's a youngest-child-of-a-pack-of-royal-cousins formal, not all-shall-love-me-and-despair formal. they'll have pleasant chats over tea that wouldn't be out of place in the tirion of yore, no matter how blatantly incongruous it is

they're always like this around each other, and nobody has any idea why. círdan thinks they're being nostalgic over what they've lost with the only person left who gets it. elrond thinks they're dealing with their conflicting emotions over each other by defaulting to an old familiar script. celeborn thinks neither of them has the patience left to put up with each other's shit. thranduil thinks it's territorial posturing

[odos-bucket]

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2 Re-Write

Basically this story with a little bit of extra angst injected in

Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.

The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He's only just starting to feel okay about casual physical affection from his new family. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.

From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out how to stand, or what he should be doing with his hands. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.

The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.

Jason relocates himself quickly, not that one corner of the large room is really any better than any other.
 The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.

If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.

When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).

This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them, and sets Jason’s heart racing at a panicked pace.
 He freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking too.
 “Why you little-“

“What happened?”

“Wayne’s little rat-“

“Did you just hit her?”

“Delinquent-“

“Did he just hit her?!”

The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to, and Jason’s had enough experiences being surrounded to know that it never leads to anything good. At the moment he’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the terrified impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.

Every muscle in his body that wasn't already tense tightens up, and heat flares at the back of his neck. He doesn't want to be in trouble. He doesn't even really know what being in trouble means in this new life yet, and he's been hoping to put off finding out as long as possible.

Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle, and just feels the warm shame that he wishes it didn’t ignite in him.

Bruce reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.

"You will never put your hands on my child again.”

Jason's not sure what he had been expecting Bruce to say, but that wasn't it, and hearing it gives him whiplash, makes his heart that had already been beating in his throat stutter to a halt.

“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“

“Did you touch him?” Bruce's voice is deceptively calm.

“I was only-“

“Yes or no.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Jason wants to say that it doesn't matter, that it isn't a big deal, because really it shouldn't be. He shouldn't be afraid to be touched; it's just one more thing about him that so glaringly doesn't belong. But he's still not sure whether or not he's in trouble, and if he is then he's learned from experience that it's better to keep his mouth shut.

“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” One of the few onlookers who isn’t pretending not to be paying attention pipes in.
 Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man who had spoken, and the woman.

“So you did touch him?”

“This is ridiculous!”

It's somehow the worst thing she could have possibly said. Jason already knows he's ridiculous. He can feel it with every fiber of his being, and the confirmation that everyone else can apparently see it too sparks a stinging sensation at the back of his throat.

“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks, and Jason flinches slightly at his words.

Bruce looks over the remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman had been standing, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are at least a little easier to ignore.

Bruce approaches Jason, who forces himself to keep his eyes open and his gaze up.

He's getting ready to apologize. He hadn't wanted to embarrass Bruce, or to get him in trouble with whoever the hell those people had been- with his luck probably someone important. He doesn't want to be in trouble either, but he recognizes that that ship has probably sailed already. He just wishes he knew what kind of punishment to expect; he hasn't been here that long, and adult behavior is hard to predict.

“Are you okay?”

Jason blinks, and apparently it takes him longer than he thinks to process and respond to the question, because Bruce asks it again.

This time he nods, figuring it’d be pretty stupid for him not to be okay.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Bruce asks.

Jason knows that it's not really a question; he's already done enough damage for the night after all. He nods his head. He’s not totally sure how to get back to the manor from here- he still doesn’t know this part of town very well- but he’s sure he’ll be able to figure it out before Bruce wraps up here.

“Let’s get our coats.”

Jason looks up in surprise, but Bruce is already walking away.

Right. He guesses it makes more sense that they’d be leaving together. He's noticed that rich families like to keep any shows of conflict private. One of the consequences of which being that he still doesn’t know how the hell these people discipline their children.

He nods again, cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

-

They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.

Bruce observes Jason’s defensive body language as they slide into the backseat.

“Are you sure you’re okay, lad?” He asks slowly.

He receives a tight nod in reply, and sighs.

“Do you want to help me get a better picture of what happened in there?”

Because what he’s looking at isn’t okay. He’s seen his witty, outgoing child shut down like this before, and it usually means he’s scared. Bruce needs to know if he was spooked by something innocuous, or if he’s going to need to hurt someone.

Jason turns from being seemingly caught off guard by the question, to apparently desperate to answer it in the span of a second.

“I swear I didn’t hit her! It was just that she-“ He shakes his head, apparently deciding against whatever he’d been about to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You’re not in trouble, Jason, not unless I’m really missing something here.”

That earns him a long suspicious look.

“I don’t like to be touched,” Jason grumbles after a minute.

“And people shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you.”

He learned pretty quickly when he first became a parent not to assume that adults would always respect children’s boundaries. And he knows that Jason has been hurt. He’s not sure exactly how, or by who, but the signs are all there. And he shouldn’t have to deal with being forcibly reminded of that by the carelessness of others; he’s a kid for god’s sake!

“Is that all-“ He stops himself from finishing the question. “People shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you,” he reiterates. “Can you tell me if anything else happened? If anyone hurt you, or threatened you?”

Jason starts to shake his head, but stops with his neck angled slightly toward Bruce.

“I thought she was gonna hit me,” he admits.

Bruce’s body tenses up. He had noticed that himself when he’d first entered the scene, and what he had read in her body language had made him see red.

“And then there were so many other people,” Jason continues. “And they were talking, and staring at me. It had me feeling kind of boxed in.”

“I’m so sorry, son.”

Jason looks a little startled up at him.

“Just to be clear,” he says slowly. “I’m not in trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bruce confirms. “I promise I will always do whatever I can to protect you from people like that.”

[yan-twst]

hi! could i please request yan azul, kalim, leona and malleus with their darling figuring out abt them,, yknow being yanderes and trys to flat out look and act unappealing and/or just basically be the opposite of what theyd want in a s/o, as an attempt to try and get them off their back?? 

warnings: general yandere themes, mentions of physical violence

azul ashengrotto

the problem with azul’s attraction is that it comes from his own insecurities rather than him attaching to some aspect of his darling

perhaps they somehow reassured him when he was feeling low, perhaps they accidentally said something that soothed his insecurities- maybe it was something as simple as them always being nice to him without him ever having done anything for them; once he first gets an inkling of interest, it snowballs into an obsession and a desire to have them reassure him and keep him company

his darling starts to notice something is off when azul suddenly seems to be almost always pestering them to form a contract with him, when they can feel the tweel’s eyes on them throughout the day. it- it feels wrong to say he’s stalking them, but fuck, it sure feels like it

every day it seems to increase a little- the stalking, the pressuring, the way he’s trying to force himself closer to them, and it feels like a ticking time bomb. it’s as if every day they put off a contract or avoid him, the pressure’s building up, but they don’t know to what. but they can tell that if this goes on for longer, something is going to happen

azul notices when they stop taking as much care of themselves. they’re disheveled, hair messy and uniform wrinkled; not something bad enough that they’d get in trouble, but just so enough that it seems they’re actively trying to appear “unappealing”. too bad for them, though; in his love-addled mind, he dreams of them holding him, caressing him and telling him he’s loved, he’s good- the fact they’re not put together doesn’t affect him that much

of course, if they realize that what azul is fixated on is how they treated him and try to do the opposite of that- being rude to him, then that’s just making things go worse. azul was obsessed with them before, yes, but once they start acting rudely to him it just makes him snap

no more waiting. he was trying to get them tied up in a contract, lure them in until they were too far in and couldn’t leave him; but once they burst his little bubble by being rude to him, once they snap the fantasy version of them in his head (the fantasy version of them that’s always at his beck and call, always reassuring them and telling him how great he is, that adores all he does with no questions)- he’s suddenly craving their kindness again, and he doesn’t care how he has to get it

that really might be a fast route to getting dragged by floyd into a dorm room- azul’s room- and be confronted with a desperate azul

suddenly bombarded with questions- why did they do this? is he not enough? did they find someone else? it’s that bastard who sits next to them, isn’t it? what does he have that azul doesn’t? he can take it from him- he can be better than that guy, he promises! why isn’t he enough? why don’t they love him? why why why why-

it’s dizzying, and they realize just a bit too late the door is locked- and it’s going to stay that way. azul might regain his composure, but going back to his usual self from his little crybaby side doesn’t mean he’s suddenly letting them go; no matter in what state he’s in, making them his is all he has on his mind

kalim al-asim

the problem with kalim is that it’s so hard to tell his love is something far worse, far more dangerous, bordering into obsession until it’s too late

he’s just so naturally loving and affectionate; it’s not weird for him to always invite the same person over, not weird for him to be hugging them, it just doesn’t raise any alarms for him to shower them in expensive gifts that they didn’t ask for, it’s just not unusual for him to compliment them so sweetly every time he sees them

after all, he’s just known for being adorable and sweet and nice. if anything, onlookers might think he has a puppy crush and find the whole thing adorable

hell, outside of the discomfort of receiving so many expensive gifts, the target of his obsession probably also thinks it’s just some passing fancy, just another demonstration of his big heart and his boundless kindness

but it’s just a little too much. the hugs last a second too long, it’s just too many gifts- where the hell do they safely put all this gold? it’s too much time spent in scarabia’s common room being hugged and pet and coddled by kalim

perhaps the kindest way to make him back off is to just not appeal to him, right? to be just a little bit cold, to look a bit worse for wear than the average student- surely that’ll be enough to dissuade him, to make him lose interest and maybe focus his attention on something else

but it doesn’t really work. trying to even give a cold shoulder to his affections makes kalim so visibly sad it hurts them (even though they’re the ones trying to make distance between him and them), their disheveled appearance makes him fuss and worry and pay even more attention to them

if the plan was to get kalim off their back, then it backfires completely. he’s suddenly just that much more attached to them; he doesn’t seem to take their cold treatment as a dissuasion, and he gifts care products and clothes and jewelry saying that perhaps they need a little pick-me-up

it just culminates in him “worrying too much” and “taking the decision to care for them, since they’re clearly unwell!”- which translates to being put in a private room in the scarabia dorm for kalim to pamper

he seems to chalk up their distress and their absolute anger at his actions as them “being unwell”. is it the school stress, or something else...? well, it’s ok! he’s taking care of them now; they’re not gonna have to work a day in their life or stress over anything at all, because he’s going to stay with them forever. that’s what love is, after all!

leona kingscholar

what a ridiculous little herbivore

do they truly think he can’t tell what they’re doing? leona knows he isn’t subtle about his little crush, as ruggie calls it- he isn’t stupid enough to deny the obsession that swirls in his heart and raises all his animalistic instincts when he’s in the presence of his darling. he knows they’re worried about how he’s monopolizing their time, that they’re keenly aware he’s trying to keep them for himself

but do they really think that they can somehow drive him away by switching up the way they act? that if they try to put on a brave stance, try to act as if though they aren’t a little weak herbivore for the big mean lion to hunt down for dinner, that he’s just going to shrug and move on?

if his obsession was something so minor, he wouldn’t be putting in the effort to secure his prey. really, how dumb do they have to be to think it’d be that easy? they know him- they know he wouldn’t be putting energy into this whole thing if he didn’t truly want to

leona isn’t stupid. he can see right through them; he’s had his eye on them for a while now, and all of a sudden they’re trying to change up the way they are? he can easily figure out what they’re trying to do

in fact, he might bring it up to their face- looking down at them with a smirk arms crossed

just because the prey tries to act brave doesn’t make it any less of a prey animal. he can sniff them out without trying.

really, it’s about then leona just says ‘fuck it’ and pounces. it’s as easy as saying that if they don’t nicely follow him back to savanaclaw he’ll gladly turn them to sand, with his hand pressed against their back- and that’s all it takes for the brave act to crumble and for the lion to force the rabbit into his den

even if once held captive they keep trying to act unappealing, leona sees it as amusing and perhaps as a bother he can quickly get rid of with a bit of force or punishment. cats like to play with their food, after all: he might let them try to keep up the act for a while, just for his amusement, but once he says they’re done and to drop it, they better drop it, because he isn’t above letting them learn through pain that they aren’t in charge of themselves here

malleus draconia

catching on that malleus draconia might be a bit too interested in them is a bit of an unnerving discovery- because what does one do when the most powerful student in nrc and the heir to the throne of the valley of thorns is a bit too into one? 

it doesn’t help that malleus is just not very socially adept, and it feels... cruel to tell him off. maybe it’s just the way he makes friends- perhaps showing up to their dorm unannounced is just him being friendly, perhaps him just staring at them is how he thinks friendship goes, maybe the extended physical contact is just him being touch starved

it’s just tricky, because what can they do? malleus is powerful and he’s very, very much attached to them. perhaps it’s their fault for letting it get to this level, but they just thought the guy needed a friend; they were trying to be nice, to offer him companionship, and now they’ve got a fae watching them sleep, talking about how they’d be a perfect co-ruler for the valley of thorns, glaring at their friends when they spend time together; it’s a problem

and yet what to do? trying to make malleus “not attracted to them” is easier said than done. after all, what seems to have gotten him so attached is the fact they treat him nicely, that they weren’t scared of him- and they’ve seen malleus spit fire and use magic so powerful they can only dream of it. they don’t want to just go ahead and upset him by suddenly being mean.

and trying to put him off with their appearance just doesn’t seem to work either. if anything, it just makes him that more overbearing; as if he’s worried about their behaviour

there’s no way to win, really. they can try to keep going this way, as his obsession grows more and more each day and he starts to take more and more from them, eventually declaring his “love”, eventually placing them in a tower, trapped with him- no amount of messy hair and poorly ironed clothes can make the lovesick obsession leave malleus; and the alternative is to potentially anger him, to make the move from their dorm to a cold, stone room somewhere in the dorm for malleus to unleash his anger and the worse parts of his obsession onto them