#the repetition really stabs you)

[mrghostrat]

spotify was out for blood today

[yandere-daydreams]

file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I…  I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

~

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

[aplpaca]

thinking about how I've seen OCD get talked about now, but haven't really seen many posts that actually explain what it is. And like, obviously people shouldn't get all their info about mental conditions from posts, but u can't deny that internet communities and stuff play a major role in people recognizing and putting names to their own experiences.

But like since the general public has like absolutely no idea of what OCD actually is (no thanks to popular media), and a lot of things I see talking about intrusive thoughts don't mention OCD (either bc they originated in OCD circles or bc intrusive thoughts aren't Exclusive to OCD or for some other reason), there should prob be more explanation put out on what OCD actually consists of.

Which is kinda hard in some ways, bc there are so many ways OCD can present in terms of what "themes" a person experiences, so someone talking about what their themes are might not ring a bell with someone who experiences different ones. But like, the core thing with OCD isn't the presence of certain themes, it's a specific pattern of spiraling thoughts and reactions.

Like. OCD is a mental condition/illness where people experience stressful, unwanted, repetitive thoughts. These are intrusive thoughts are what make up the "obsessions" part of the disorder. In response to these intrusive thoughts, a lot of people will perform certain actions or think certain things in an attempt to neutralize or disprove the threat they represent. These are the "compulsions" part of the condition.

For a more "traditional" example, someone experiencing intrusive thoughts that they might catch a communicable disease may obsessively wash their hands or google their symptoms to try to lessen the anxiety. While someone who is worried they might hurt someone (even though they very much do not want to hurt someone) may avoid being near sharp objects or may avoid the people they're afraid of hurting.

One of the issues with OCD is that performing the compulsions provides short term relief, but in the long term it only strengthens the stress caused by the intrusive thoughts, thus furthering the thought spiral and actively making it worse, to the point where, depending on your themes, you may be (almost) convinced that your intrusive thoughts represent the truth or the inevitable or something permanent.

Intrusive thought themes cam be literally anything, but some of the common ones are stuff like

Questioning your sexuality, gender, etc (what if I'm actually straight/gay/bi/trans/cis/etc?)

Being worried about losing control and hurting yourself or others physically, sexually, emotionally, basically any way (what if I want to kill someone? What if I'm a pedophile? What if I'm an abuser? What if I want to stab myself? Etc)

Fear of becoming or being sick

Worrying something bad will happen to you or people you care about

Worrying about your spiritual beliefs or lack thereof (what if I'm actually Christian? What if I'm actually atheist? What if i don't believe in the faith i ascribe to? Etc)

Worrying about relationship status (what if I don't actually love them? What if they're not "the one"? What if they're cheating? What if *I'm* cheating? Etc)

What if I'm a bad person?

Fear of losing things

Fear of things not feeling right (this is often be related to other themes via magical thinking. ex: if I don't have my things organized Just Right then something bad will happen)

Fear of unreality

Compulsions vary by theme a lot obviously, but some common ones include

Hand washing

Organizing things until they Feel Right

Checking and double checking and triple checking to make sure you did something correctly

Obsessively reviewing your memories to disprove a thoughtor make sure you don't believe something

Arguing against the thoughts in an attempt to disprove them

Testing your mental reactions to a thought or to certain kinds of content, to show yourself you don't actually believe or feel something

Obsessively googling symptoms, testimonies, things related to your thoughts

Obsessive prayer

Repeating phrases, mantras, affirmations, etc in an attempt to make thoughts go away

Avoiding things and situations that set off your intrusive thoughts

Repeatedly asking for reassurance from others ("I'm not being xyz, right?")

But yeah this obviously isn't exhaustive but, just, if this kind of thing sounds familiar, you should probably do some research on OCD, bc while intrusive thoughts can occur with other conditions, the intrusive thought-compulsion spiral is the core of OCD and isn't really a subaspect of depression/anxiety/ptsd/etc. and the treatment and management of OCD can look different from other stuff, so its a good thing to look into.

(Also it's important to keep in mind, esp if you're someone that doesn't have it, that someone's intrusive thoughts Are Not "secret desires" or "repressed urges" or anything the person even remotely wants to act on. Someone having harm-related intrusive thoughts is not at risk of actually acting on them, no matter how worried they are of doing so.)

Anyway this was a long post and I don't have a neat way to wrap it up and also I accidentally added a poll and now can't get rid of it so here's free poll. I'm running on nyquil and a small amount of straight gin (which works very well at numbing a sore throat) rn gnite

[v1x3n]

M E E T A N D G R E E T

141 x reader ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you re-meet your old friend, johnny mctavish, but he changed - a lot - and he had brought a few friends with him, who are all part of a band!

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : fluff mostly - slight suggestive mentions near the end, awkward reader, nothing much!!

a scottish voice shouts above the raging music in the background, a voice you recognized. a voice that belonged to an old friend, Johnny mctavish. but what is strange is that he is with a bunch of other blokes.

a large man, not fat but built, he looms' down on you with an almost menacing stare. the only piece of him you can see is his eyes. The rest was covered by a skull balaclava, leather jacket, a skintight white t-shirt, gray baggy jeans and some spiky boots. his arms were crossed and he stood up like a brick wall, he was tall as well. he was scary if you were honest. you could see a slight black tattoo peaks out under his jacket. skeleton hands printed onto the gloves. you could see a chain leading into his white shirt, from how tight the top was you could clearly see the rounded rectangle metal through them. some type of necklace.

The man next to him was utterly gorgeous, he had large eyelashes and a little bit of stubble, his big brown eyes were luring you in - almost putting you under a spell. eyes trailing down to look at what he was wearing, he gave off more roadman, would stab you for a greggs, which was different from the man you just looked at. He wore black cargos and a gray jacket opened, showing a cropped black tank top underneath. all up his ear was done with silver piercings, he also had his belly button pierced - showing it off with the cropped shirt, a ring hung around his left nostril. a layered barbed wire necklace hung from his neck along with a black belly chain.

Then right in front of you were two guys, Johnny - your old friend and another man who looked much older than the rest, 5 maybe 7 years older than the others. He was smart though, he looked homely, he looked like he could be a settled down dad with a paid off mortgage. His warm smile could cheer up any day, his beard covering most of the bottom of his face, a white shirt covering his chest with the first few buttons undone, a silky black tie hovering on the shirt. He wore black jeans with a black belt. the handsome man had his right eyebrow pierced, other than that you couldn't see any other piercings. he didn't have any necklaces on, but his fingers were loaded with rings upon rings. on his left hand wore a pain silver one on his ring finger followed by a repetitive skull ring on his middle finger. his other hand had a thinner silver ring on his middle finger then a bone ring wrapped around his thumb.

"How are ya, lass?" the man in front of you says, snapping you out your little transe. Your old friend has changed quite a lot. He still had his silly mohawk - but it was currently a little longer, scraggly and it looked like he had been roughed up - and his stupid grin. some type of logo tattooed onto his right arm. you glance up at his face to really admire his details, a strong glare and a grown yet stubbily beard, your eyes trail down to his jaw which his stubble grew over, then down to his outfit. The man in front of you wore a cropped turtleneck tank top - Jesus - patchy cargos with a belt that held the baggy pair up, on the belt was a skull buckle. Unlike the other man who wore a cropped top, you could see Johnny's happy trail leading up to his belly button. your old friend wore some black bracelets around his wrists, johnny was definitely the most jeweled than the rest of them. around his neck was a collar - it wasn't a choker, definitely not, it was a collar. It couldn't help you think what type of kinky shit he was into. He had a septum pierced into his nose, along with a bar leading across his left ear, trailing down with a few other piercings across both ears.

"oh! I'm good! haven't seen you in so long!" you smile and quickly pull him into a hug, getting a whiff of his scent, you linger on his shoulder when he wraps his arms around you. It was kinda awkward with all his friends cucking but you chose to ignore them and focus on johnny. "How are you? you look... very different!" you choke out a laugh. obviously you weren't laughing at the style, just the change of how he used to dress.

"i look good though, divnt i?" he chuckles and a cough booms from behind him, the masked, you would say gentleman but he certainly doesn't look gentle. "hahh- yeah you do! it suits you!" you gleam and pull away from him, glancing at the other boys.

"Shite sorry, this is Simon," he points at the masked man, "kyle," the pretty guy smiles sweetly at you, "and john!" The father-like man tilts his head and grins. Johnny introduces you to the gang and they all say hi. Some voices are gruffier than the rest. "What are you here for!" you try to quietly shout over the music that slowly gets louder.

this stupid bar was a regular one you visited, you'd usually come here for the bands and occasionally the men. "We performed here earlier" the man, John said with a strong smile plastered on his face. "holy fuck! youre in a band, jj?!" you exclaim and grab onto johnny's hand.

"ye, me and these ballsacks made one together, want an autograph then, lass?" he mocks.

you laugh at him and look around at the other three brutes there, "ye four chat, i'll grab some beers" johnny says before waddling off. you gulp, looking up at the men and awkwardly smile, "sooo..." you mumble quietly.

"How do you know Johnny, sweetheart?" blushing slightly as the man, John, speaks to you. "oh! We were close friends like all our lives, went to primary and high school together" you sweetly smile as another of the men speaks, Kyle, his voice like honey whilst he looks down at you. his big brown eyes taking you all in, "how'd you two meet back then? he tricked you into bein' his mate like?" Kyle jokes.

you laugh quietly, "hah- no, uhm we were in class when we were six or seven maybe? and he sat next t' me, he gotten glue all over the table and all over himself - on the first day - so the teacher told me i had t' clean him up," you fumble with your hands, looking between simon and the rest whilst telling your story, "so i was angry at him because i couldn't play outside that day cause i had t' help him clean up. and he has been annoying me since" you let out a light laugh. you could say you two stuck together.

kyle and john chuckle whether simons eyes dont give off a tell for what emotion

"you his girlfriend, then?"

"what?" choking on air for a few seconds at the accusation. you couldn't deny that maybe you had a small thing for him in highschool but that was just confusing friendship with romance, so if you really think about it - no you didn't. "God, no! He's just a friend!" laughing slightly. the group hummed, it sounded like satisfaction.

"So no boyfriend?" Kyle confirms.

"Like at all?" an eyebrow raises, you look toward simon, who hasn't spoken yet, then towards kyle and john once more with your head slightly tilted. "erm, no, there's no boyfriend" the three of them nod.

A long awkward silence fills the bar, the only sound being the blasting music and people drunk in the background. god this was awkward, but soon johnny came back. four pints and your favorite drink. your smile coated with sugar as johnny gives you your drink, "thanks jj"

"No bother, Bonnie," he passes the other drinks out. you five quickly go find a small booth in the back to talk in, "so what were yous talkin boot?"

"jus slagging you off, Johnny" Kyle pipes up which makes you snicker and Johnny rolls his eyes. "right." he scoffs.

"I was telling them how we uhm met!" you smile and take a sip of your drink. Johnny does the make and hums, "the glue story?" a nod that signals a yes, "still not forgave you f' that, mind." you give him a jokenly glare, "it was years ago!" Johnny gasps, Kyle laughs whilst Simon's eyes flirt between the two of you. your eyes wander over to simon who has his mask ruffled up over his nose so he can drink his pint.

the masked man had a bit of stubble around his face, his lips were pinkish and god you were almost hypnotized, you couldn't see that much but it looked like a lot. he took small sips from his glass and you gaze up at his eyes which were intently looking st you, listening to each and every word you said. you gulp and quickly look away to see john, johnny and kyle talking about something. you could probably piece it all together but you were too panicked that simon had caught you staring. fuck, you didnt mean too stare for that long but you honestly hadnt expected him too look like that.

"oh, i forgot t' ask like what do yous all do in the band?" you look at them all.

"I'm the bassist and backing vocals!" Johnny peeps up, smiling widely. "drums." John hums, looking at you and taking a gulp of his pint. "guitar." Simon says, his voice gruffier - it sounded like exactly how he looked, strange. "I'm the vocalist and rhythm guitarist." Kyle smiles and winks at you.

"cool!" you smile, a finger circling your glass whilst you look between them all, "anythin i would've heard?"

"mayperhaps" Kyle grins, "here" he grumbles and pulls out his phone, showing you his band on spotify. you gasp, "oh my god! no way! My friends have talked about your band!"

the four men look at eachother, "really?" Johnny speaks. you nod as a reply, "i never really listened t' it tho.." muttering under your breath.

"Shame, you should. not t' brag but we are very good" johnny smirks, he looks you up and down, “so what you been up t’? Anythin’ fun?” you think for a second, what have you been up to? You had a few boyfriends, not anything that serious though, you uhhmm… What have you done? You sit there with your thoughts as a few of the guys look at you, they sip onto their beers as they patiently wait for a reply to Johnny's question. “Oh uhm i dunno” you hesitantly let out a slight laugh, “i moved around here and ermm… had a few jobs around the place. Right now I am working at some cafe a few blocks away” looking down at your lap, you were almost embarrassed that you were telling your old best friend, who's successful right now, that you were just working at a small cafe. It was not paid that much but you needed the job - you obviously weren't going to tell him, or any of them, that you were just getting by though.

“Oh you live round here?” John peeps up, keeping his eyes on you whilst he finishes off his pint. your eyes follow his hands as he slams his glass down. “Yeah, do yous?” Simon looks off to the side of the table, out to all the people in the bar. “No we are on a little tour right now, just around the uk” Kyle answers after gulping a large sip from his beer. “Oh! Okay!” you smile at them, “where have you been so far?” 

“Few places in London and well here, still going round though” you nod at Johnny's words. Lucky that you ran into them though, you had missed johnny and well his friends definitely weren't hard to look at. Wait wait wait, you couldnt think that, you barely knew them. They were a bunch of emos who have a band together, you only knew Johnny - and that was years ago. 

You and Johnny had stopped talking in college. Maybe you had grown apart, or something happened, perhaps it was something you had said? But long story short you and him stopped speaking, full stop. At the time you were heavily distracted by other things though so it hadnt hit you that hard, sometimes you would sit in your bed, going through old photos of you and him together. Then it would hit you hard, at that time you thought to yourself ‘yeah, i miss him’ but then you would distract yourself from that feeling. Another thing that would distract you was your boyfriend, you two had been together for quite a while actually. Johnny actually introduced you two together at the start of college, his name was Danny, but then you and Johnny stopped talking after hitting it off with danny. You would wonder if that was the reason you stopped talking, Danny, but that simply couldn't be it because he and Danny were friends, and why would jj stop talking to you just because you were dating someone? 

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “we should get going” a rough, gruff voice, one you only had heard once. Simon. You look up at him then your eyes trail around the table. All the drinks drank and everyone looked incredibly tired, “ah shite yeah, need t’ practise in the morning so got an early night” Kyle follows up. You nod at him, understandingly. 

“Oh okay” a disappointed hum comes from you, “bye then” you smile as the rest stand up. You stand up along with them and look at Johnny whilst he walks over to you, wrapping you into a tight hug. You could smell his cologne once more but this time he smelt more like alcohol than before. You bury your  head into the corner of his neck as his arms squeeze around you, his hands trailing down to your waist, Johnny pulls back and winks. “I'll hopefully see you again?” 

“Yeah..” you murmur, “here uhm i'll give you my number f’ if you're in town again?” you suggest, pulling out your phone and passing johnny it. Johnny quickly puts your number into his phone, he smiles.

They all say goodbye, Johnny pulls you into another long, tight hug and lets you go almost winded. Kyle puts a hand on your arm and lets it trail down your soft skin, telling you he hopes to see you later. John bends down to kiss your cheek whilst he chuckles lightly, saying it was nice to meet you before his eyes wander around your person - muttering that you should come to one of their concerts some time. But Simon only pulls his mask back over his face, back to the original position it was in. Simon's eyes look you up and down as he grumbles a small bye.

And with that you're left outside of the bar, watching them all walk off, yet something catches you off guard, Simon looks back and sees you staring once more. Embarrassing. His eyes almost glimmer, but then he looks forward once more. Scoffing as a bright blush covers your cheeks, fuck, you needed to get fucked cause you were stood looking at 3 strange men and your old bestfriend, blushing because you thought they were fit.

But luckily you would and could never act on your horny thoughts that spew in your mind because you would never see any of them again. Right? Riiight.

[rikusahoge]

"But be safe. No reckless stunts."

On Sora and Riku's respective recklessness as showcased in the series, and what it means for their relationship

Under readmore because i am going to talk a lot

As an aside: Im going to be pulling from the Japanese text, though I am not a native speaker or really any kind of speaker, so take what I say with a decent amount of scrutiny. I'm more than willing to be corrected on these conclusions!

One line that has stood out to me in kingdom hearts is the repetition of "no reckless stunts!" and similar phrases. If you examine the original text, three slightly different words have been used to mean "reckless", which I'll include below (pulled definitions from Jisho, mostly)

無謀 (mubou): reckless, foolhardy, rash, ill-advised, mad (scheme)

無茶 (mucha): reckless, absurd, unreasonable, ridiculous

無理 (muri): impossible, unreasonable, unjustifiable

Importantly for what i want to talk about is how "muri" is used in situations where a character wants to express that something is impossible (think of a character giving up all hope due to an insermountable obstacle in front of them, they may mutter something like "muri da...") keep a pin in this, it will matter toward the end.

Also note that each of these words starts with "無" (mu), which usually means nothingness or absence of something. The definition of this kanji isnt super important, it's more important that its presence ties these three phrases together in a really unique way as i hope to demonstrate.

what i propose is that both Sora and Riku are depicted as reckless characters, albeit in different ways. The established pattern I've noticed is that Sora: "mucha" & Riku: "muri". I will tentatively refer to "mucha" as "rash" and "muri" as "impossible" (despite that it does also mean other things in some cases! bare with me it'll make sense)

Dialing back a bit, we have seen countless moments of Sora acting rashly. It is one of his key character traits and it tends to get him in trouble. He has a big heart, and is quick to anger.

Sora's response to loved ones and helpless innocents that have been put in harm's way is to repetitively bash things with his keyblade (and ask questions later).

It's Sora's rashness that allows Org 13 to use him to complete kingdom hearts. The extreme end of his rashness is showcased when he stabs himself to release Kairi from his heart.

Tldr. I think it's pretty well established and easy to argue that Sora is one to leap before he looks.

Now, Riku might be a little harder to sell as reckless, because of how well he tends to hide it. He carries himself as a role model for Sora, and tries to be the responsible friend. But if we look at his patterns of behavior, despite how he carries himself, he is quite reckless!

Without thinking of the consequences, he rushes the open door when destiny islands falls to darkness, eventually succumbing to it himself. He lashes out several times at Sora, particularly dangerously when he fires off a dark firaga in Hollow Bastion. He closes the door to darkness with Sora without knowing what would happen to him if he was trapped in the realm of darkness. When Sora is asleep, he sacrifices his form to defeat Roxas, without any assurance that he would ever be able to get his old form back.

We see Riku's recklessness too in the fight against Xemnas. He recklessly throws himself in front of Xemnas twice, hurling Sora away from danger and taking a very nasty blow to the hip. I'd count his dive to save Sora in DDD among these, mostly due to his risk taking behavior when it comes to saving Sora. Finally of course we see it in KH3, with his ultimate sacrifice. (but i think importantly, this scene isn't just recklessness, but I'll explain in a bit)

So tldr. Despite Riku's mask of level headedness and resolve, he has been shown over and over to take massive risks without caring for the consequences. Which is pretty reckless, in my opinion!

Sora and Riku's recklessness, mind you, is also called into question by Yen Sid, who tells Riku the reason he kept Aqua's fate a secret was to keep Riku and Sora from staging a "half-baked attempt at rescue"

He says similar in Japanese, but i want to just note the word he uses when he describes the rescue attempt as reckless (highlighted for ur convenience):

(the highlighted word here is "mubou", it will come back later in an Important way, so keep it in mind)

he's *basically* saying that if Riku, or worse, Sora, knew about Aqua, they would have recklessly marched into the realm of darkness to rescue her. Because he knows they are both ... Like that.

I would be remiss to not mention that Sora's impulsivity and recklessness is something Riku admires! After Yen Sid tells riku not to be rash, and Riku excitedly tells Mickey he's ready to help save Aqua, Kairi observes that Riku has changed, and he's more like Sora. Riku asks if that's a compliment, but I think it's clear that he feels it is. He says it's more Fun to just follow his heart, which is sora-esque. (;_;) This is also something he brings up to Sora when they're on the dark margin together, that he's jealous of how Sora can just follow his heart. It's clear Riku has started to embrace his more impulsive side, to follow his heart like sora does. This is important later!

So now that I have my premise Mostly set up, I'd like to highlight a handful of scenes that I thought were really telling about how Sora and Riku relate to the terms "mucha" and "muri", respectively.

Let's start with Sora and "mucha".

The first instance i have found "mucha" used is in Olympus Colliseum.

lets recall How Herc initially loses his power in KH2, and compare it to the movie.

In KH2, Herc is tricked into leaving the colliseum unguarded by capturing Meg and hiding her in the underworld so that Herc and Sora must go to her rescue. Hades sends a hydra in to destroy the colliseum while Sora and Herc are busy fighting heartless and Pete and rescuing Meg.

Upon seeing the destruction in the colliseum, Herc falls to his knees, and you can visibly see his colors fade to a more ashen complexion, similar to his appearance without his powers in the movie. He calls himself a piece of shit basically and Meg helps him up to limp to safety, leaving Sora to defeat the Hydra (ahem sora helping riku walk in twtnw after xemnas fight anyone)

(Herc even has a second journal entry for his Desaturared form.)

You leave the world after defeating the hydra and jumping up on its back a few times, and after sora d & g are named true heros. Yay. But Herc doesn't have his power back yet, which will later be addressed in the second episode.

Herc's loss of power is much different from the movie. In the movie, he agrees to let Hades take his strength for a day in order to keep Meg from harm, and release her from the contract she had entered with Hades (iirc). This was all so Herc wouldn't get the chance to save Olympus from the titans that Hades revives in order to take Zeus' throne for himself.

Herc still tries to wonderboy his way into rescuing the town, and fights a giant cyclops. While he lacks physical strength and gets pretty much Pummeled, he ends up beating the cyclops with his wit - but in doing so, a pillar is knocked over. It is about to crush Herc, but Meg pushes him out of the way, and is crushed to death.

She gives her life to save him, which in turn returns strength to Herc, because the contract was only good if Meg remained unharmed.

What I'm mostly trying to say here on this tangent is Herc's loss of power in KH2 specifically is very reminiscent of Sora losing his keyblade in Hollow Bastion, which is later echoed in the keyblade graveyard when he feels he loses his strength to fight after losing his friends. I bring up the movie to show how bizarrely different it is from the Kh2 plot, perhaps precisely to make the parallel between Sora and Herc stronger (and the parallel between Herc and Riku, by the way - Herc falling to his knees, losing his power, and giving up, only for Meg to walk him to safety, is a parallel to Riku losing his will to fight and press on after the battle with Xemnas - Sora refuses to let him and in the same Exact way he helps Riku walk on)

So Hercules, when faced with the impossible wavers, and loses his strength and will to fight. This is important so keep it in mind. Impossible/Muri isn't stated here as far as i know, but it's important that he is feeling utterly defeated and unable to win.

The second visit to the world is when we first see the term "mucha"/reckless used as far as I was able to find. Hades casts Meg into the Soul Hole and Herc dives in to save her without hesitating (mechanically to write Herc out of the boss fight, but)

We later see Herc emerge with Meg, his godly aura restored (he is Radiant!) something that *should* have killed him. and should have been impossible. But his desire to save her was so great, he recklessly dives in, without knowing that he will succeed. Luckily, all he had to do to prove he was worthy of godhood and power in both the game and the movie was to use the strength of his Heart rather than his fists, as a true hero does:

Sora scolds him and tells him not to do anymore crazy stunts after this reckless dive to save Meg (screenshot makes it look like herc is saying it sorry lol) and that is where we can see the term "mucha" being used in Japanese:

instead of crazy stunts, Sora moreso says "but don't be reckless (mucha)":

to which herc responds:

"people always do stupid things when they're in love" (note he doesn't repeat reckless, he says "baka" lol)

so here we have a direct link between herc's sacrifice when he dove in to save Meg, the restoration of his power/Godhood, and acting recklessly (mucha), without Fear or Doubt, to save someone he is In Love With. put a pin in this because it's all connected.

Now moving onto KH2.9 and KH3. From the start of the game we are told Sora has lost the Power of Waking, and his Entire goal in the game is to regain it, wake Ventus, and prepare for the battle in the KBG with Xehanort.

The Power of Waking is already a very vague, disney-esque power, essentially the power to free sleeping hearts from slumber (and first introduced to us in DDD, particularly in terms of Riku waking Sora up in a sleeping beauty retelling but I'm getting ahead of myself)

Yen Sid suggests that Sora go to Olympus for clues to regain his power, as Just Like Sora, Hercules also lost his power, but was able to regain it.

It's pretty straightforward, but in the interest of not making this post a fucking novel ill try to keep it short. Herc tells Sora he's not sure just *how* he got his powers back, just that he wanted to save Meg with all his heart when he (recklessly) dove in to save her. The game is trying to tell Sora that it's the Power of Love that brought back Herc's strength, and that Love will be key in bringing Sora's PoW back, too.

Specifically, I think that Herc's story and the other worlds Sora visits are saying that it's True Love that will bring Sora's powers back. Acts of true love in KH3 are framed as courageous, selfless, and performed unconditionally.

Despite the visit to see Hercules, Sora still doesn't gain the PoW. He has an idea of what he needs to regain it, but he has to visit multiple Disney worlds to learn more about the power of true love and sacrifice (well also separation but thats not as important to this post) before he's ready to test it out for himself.

After Arendelle (i think) we get to another important cutscene where Riku, Sora, donald, goofy, & mickey meet up with Yen Sid to discuss the progress they've made on their respective journeys. Sora wants to go to the Realm of Darkness with Riku & Mickey because he's worried, but they Won't let him because he doesn't have the PoW. Riku does the fondest laugh known to man, eliciting a bit of anger from Sora, but explains it's because of what Yen Sid had told him earlier - that had Sora or Riku known about Aqua being trapped in the RoD, they would have recklessly gone in to save her.

he's pretty much directly quoting yen sid here, just like he does in English (saying half-baked instead of reckless too). So basically saying here Sora would have marched into (the dark world) recklessly (had he known where Aqua was) - again using "mubou" like master yen sid.

Interestingly, when we get to Sora telling Riku to not be reckless in the dark world to Riku, he's not repeating the same word for Reckless that Riku is using (Now this might be just a flow of the conversation thing, which i certainly cant confirm as a non-native speaker but i think it's still notable)

Sora says something similar to what is said in English; with a few distinctions. A rough translation would be "but don't overdo it, call me if anything happens" (need I gripe one more time that english localization cuts out sora telling Riku to call him; which is why he spends the rest of the time apart from Riku wanting a call, and why its so unhinged that Riku triangles for sora and basically summons him. I DIGRESS)

This line is translated as "but be safe, no reckless stunts" in English, which serves as a callback to what Sora tells to Hercules in KH2, (further solidifying a herc/riku parallel) but IMPORTANTLY, Sora is NOT even saying the same thing he said to Hercules in the Japanese script. He's saying something else - 無理しないで (muri shinai de), which is usually translated as don't overdo it - but literally means "don't do the impossible". This will be important later when I talk more about Riku so keep this in mind.

We immediately get Donald saying "Sora's the reckless (muri) one" (abbreviating for simplicity) but Jiminy disagrees. In English he says "He's not reckless, he just doesn't think!" but in Japanese he says this:

Which i know im going to butcher any translation I do, but Jiminy is basically saying "[Sora's] not muri he's mucha". That distinction is important enough for Jiminy to make a joke about it. That Riku might actually be the one who is overdoing it/trying to do the impossible (muri), while Sora is the one who runs headfirst into danger recklessly (mucha). Which, i think, is quite fitting, given the actions theyve done through the series.

Importantly we get one more instance of "mucha" which I think really ties Sora's trait "recklessness" together nicely, and puts into perspective what the repetition of these phrases is doing from a story telling perspective.

After Sora finishes up the remaining Disney world visits, S, D, & G find out that Chip & Dale have lost contact with Riku & Mickey. Sora is very upset at this, and is Determined to save them (Riku) (with all his heart). Sora has NOT GAINED THE POW at this point, and they don't know how to even get into the RoD, so Sora opts to "let his heart be his guiding key" to find his way to Riku and the RoD. (Recklessly I might add, he hasn't called or talked to Yen Sid or consulted anyone about it lol)

He arrives at Destiny Islands and mysteriously finds Master's Defender which happens to be the key to getting him into the RoD. Right? Well. We know from the glossary that the established method of reaching the RoD is with a keyblade of darkness, through dark corridors, or with the Power of Waking.

Others have argued this (see SRT) but it's heavily implied that Sora regained the PoW on his way to rescue Riku. That he used it explicitly to get into the RoD is where people tend to be a little caught up in the details, because it *does* seem like Master's Defender plays a role, which begs the questions - is it a keyblade of darkness? What the fuck was it doing there? etc. (literally saw on a kh wiki that sora got into the RoD because Masters defender was a keyblade of darkness, which is unconfirmed currently lol) It's also not traditionally what the PoW looks like. There's a huge door that appears, Sora isn't using the kingdom key, he doesn't burst out of Riku's chest. Etc.

HOWEVER. I think with the context of the narrative arc Sora is going through, the foreshadowing present in the game, and The Reckless Rescue angle can at least prove that he DID regain his power here, regardless of whether or not he explicitly used it to get into the RoD. I'll try to briefly summarize the points I've seen made before I add my own.

After the visit to Olympus, Sora explains to Yen sid that he didn't regain his power but he still learned a lot. Yen sid stresses again that sora needs the PoW, Sora gets pouty, and Goofy cheers him up by saying "maybe something will trigger it real soon". Shortly after a bit of banter, there is a knock at the door, and Riku and Mickey walk in. The camera kmakes a point to show Mickey off to the side, then pan up to Riku as he walks in to close the door, who is centered in the view (almost as if we are watching from Sora's POV, who is anticipating Riku's appearance in the door).

Putting this side by side is a little unfair, since it's not an immediate jump from Goofy saying this to Riku's entrance, but it's pretty in your face about just what (or who) might be key to reawakening sora's PoW.

We also get some heavy handed foreshadowing in the next visit to Yen Sid's tower, right before Sora tells Riku to not overdo it:

Yeah. and he does, importantly, get the power of waking, not BEFORE he comes to the rescue, but BECAUSE he comes to the rescue.

Now for my contribution since I stole the last two/three points from other posts. Just before Sora enters the RoD, he tells D & G to stay behind and that he has to go alone. (Sigh, yes, this scene is a parallel to Riku using the PoW to save Sora in DDD - it *has* to be him, and him alone) D& G protest, but eventually relent. But Donald doesn't let Sora go without saying this:

(In English, Donald says "you promise to be good?" inexplicably) but in Japanese he tells sora (basically) "Don't be reckless" - aka. No Reckless Stunts, complete with the use of "mucha" (recall Donald in the previous scene was the one to call Sora "muri" before being corrected by Jiminy). This is similar to what Sora tells to herc, so we are pretty much full circle on this scene being a callback to Herc rescuing Meg in KH2.

Like Herc, Sora does the reckless thing. Like Herc, he heroically dives into the abyss to rescue his loved one with all his heart.

Like Herc, Sora regains his power the moment he resolves to rescue Riku, even if it is not made explicitly clear to Sora OR the audience (perhaps the fact that he regained the PoW is why he is able to save aqua, too)

I could probably go on about this and what it means for Sora for a long time, but I think it's high time I actually wrote about "muri" and Riku's recklessness, so let's rewind a little.

I've already brought up how Riku relates to Herc in terms of his recklessness and heroics, but theres a few more things to add. of course. I'll recap with pictures of one of the parallels i've already discussed:

So here i think at least metaphorically, we can argue that Riku has lost a bit of his "power"- or rather, his drive. After everything is over, he just collapses, ready to die or be left behind. Sora WONT let that happen. So Riku asks Sora to lead. He confesses to some of the jealousy and superiority he'd been feeling over Sora for the past few years, and seems to be trying to find a new direction in his life, having now repented Quite a bit for the sins he committed in KH1.

Riku's entire purpose for fighting after KH CoM and KH2 was to wake Sora up, keep him safe while he does his keyblade weilder duties, reunite him with Kairi, and send him on his merry way. Sora refuses to let him leave, and demands that he comes home with him. So he does. but without his jealousy over his feelings toward Sora, or without his feelings of guilt and feeling he needs to make it up to Sora, what is left to drive him to keep fighting?

DDD gives him a pretty strong answer - it's where he both rediscovers his sense of purpose and gains the Power of Waking in the process. And his dream eater powers too. btw

Riku's journey in DDD is, simply put, not really about passing the mark of mastery exam and becoming a keyblade master. it's about remembering What he lives for. remembering his promise to Terra, and how those feelings have evolved - from wanting strength to protect the Stuff that matters as a child, to, in DDD, discovering that the "stuff that matters, like his friends" was Sora the Whole time, and that Sora is actually a "precious best friend" that he wants to protect. It's About recovering his strength, like Herc needs to do in KH2.

So how does Riku regain his "strength"? By Sora-style taking a reckless dive into the deep abyss of Sora's heart to wake him using the PoW.

(Not once was I able to find any mention of "recklessness" here, or any particular language that ties this moment together cleanly with what happens in Olympus Colliseum in KH2, but the repetition of diving down into an abyss to rescue someone (with all your heart. etc) is Enough of a parallel to make the connection between this scene and Herc's dive to save Meg)

It is within the deepest depth of Sora's heart where Riku is interrogated by three pieces of Sora's heart about what he's afraid of, what he cares about more than anything else, and what he wishes - All canon answers involve the mention of "precious" - "taisetsu" (sorry im not explaining this one im going to just assume you know what im talking about if you are a soriku that reads meta you should know.) - to lose something precious, my precious best friend (fuck da english localization for this one), to recover something precious that I lost. It is here that we see Riku's simple "protecting important stuff" become "protecting something precious/my precious best friend" (note that this hasn't quite become "taisetsu na hito"/precious person but hes getting there)

Ansem the wise is there i guess and he tells Riku that his 3 answers are what were the key to waking sora up, and I think, importantly, are what give Riku his "strength" back. He has rediscovered his purpose, which is, to him, protecting Sora (with all his heart)

Continuing into KH2.9 we have another couple scenes that will both complete Riku's development from protecting stuff that matters to protecting a precious person and also continue to make a strong connection between him and Hercules.

It's been pretty well established that these two scenes are deceptively mistranslated, but i'll go over it again

Herc here is saying "taisetsu na hito" which is translated to "person I love most"

The EXACT phrase Mickey uses to tell Riku why he's feeling more powerful and fearless in the RoD, in the literal next scene in 2.9. They were supposed to be VERY CLEAR hit you over the head parallels but, well. SENA said fuck gay people i guess.

Riku repeats what Mickey says into his hand ("strength to protect my precious person") and recalls his promise to Terra, to protect the things that matter. (again it's implied it's always been about protecting sora, he just didn't have the language or understanding of himself yet to know how to say it)

There is absolutely no room for nuance here. This is explicitly framing Riku's feelings for Sora on par with Herc's feelings for Meg eg. explicitly romantic. And that it's his ROMANTIC LOVE for Sora that is what gives him his strength - not just to protect Sora, but also to do THE IMPOSSIBLE

phase ??? of my argument will now commence hang on to your butts. (i wrote this all in one night im tired)

Now that ive Exhaustively set that up. lets actually get back into discussing what I initially set up - riku doing the impossible "muri" thing.

As a reminder, Sora tells Riku to not "attempt the impossible/overdo it" in the RoD. And to call him if he needs him.

So Riku, instead of attempting the impossible in the RoD by facing the demon tide, does call Sora, which ends up being what saves the day! Yay!

I have bad news though! Riku is terrible at listening to advice when Sora is in trouble.

Now recall what I mentioned earlier about the fall of the guardians in the KBG and Sora's subsequent breakdown being a parallel to Herc losing his power in KH2. Sora *fails* everyone here, and he explicitly states he is worthless, without strength, when he loses them. It's very in line with Herc losing his powers in KH2.

(just putting these in here to hurt you and myself)

So, we get the Herc parallel, but it stops here for Sora. He doesn't do some grand self sacrifice for Riku to prove his heroism and regain his "power", but i think theres a reason for that beyond it just being Riku's time for the spotlight but I am getting there.

In the english localization, Sora says "we've lost, it's over". It's a subtle change from the Japanese, where instead of "it's over", Sora simply utters "muri da--" ("its impossible") (in the wettest saddest voice you can imagine)

It's at this moment where I do truly think we're meant to make the connection between Sora saying "its impossible" and Sora telling Riku to not attempt the impossible. It fits in nicely with Sora telling Herc to not do reckless stunts, with the slight change in language from "reckless" to "impossible", and with the impending self sacrifice. Riku knows that beating back the demon tide is impossible. But he does it anyway (compare to how, when faced with a much smaller demon tide, and he was losing, he listened to Sora's advice and called Sora for help instead of attempting the impossible)

So we have Riku's ultimate true love sacrifice for Sora, which both takes his life and grants him a spot upon an alter in Olympus, perhaps symbolically giving him some sort of ascension for his heroic deed. And again tying his sacrifice intimately to Herc's.

Because Sora and Riku are both "herc" and "meg" here I am going to make a little bit of a reach. Recall that I went through the effort of recapping the climax of the hercules movie. for no reason. There is a connection though even if it's loose, and i would kick myself for not including it.

In the movie, Meg, like Riku, protects a powerless Hercules from impending danger in her own act of true loves sacrifice. Her death gives Hercules his strength back (partly due to contract BS but it's still a romantic moment). And her death is what drives Hercules to dive into the Soul Hole to rescue her soul at a potentially great cost, which is what ultimately restores his godhood (showing his strength of heart). Riku sacrificing himself for Sora can be seen to be more like the events of the Hercules movie, Riku standing in for Meg - Sora does have to restore Riku's heart after it's been taken by the Lich, after all, much like Hercules brings Meg's soul out from the Hole. And Riku's sacrifice is what gives Sora the resolve to keep fighting. (not arguing with anyone who thinks it was only kairi because it wasnt lol)

So Riku attempts the impossible here, and ultimately he is rewarded. An interesting nuance is that the phrase "attempting the impossible" isn't meant to be taken as a challenge. From what ive read from native speakers, the phrase Sora uses really is better translated as "don't overdo it" as it is less about proving yourself to be able to overcome crazy obstacles and more about keeping your expectations in check. But Riku is reckless, and following his heart, which he learned from Sora.

I hope I've properly illustrated how Sora and Riku are both painted as reckless in different ways, and how the language used in KH3 is making direct references to Herc's reckless heroics in KH2 and in the actual Disney movie. And how these reckless acts are showcasing how much these two love each other, because I still have one more point to make. Namely, how this ties into Cinderella, and ultimately KH4.

In Terra's route of Birth By Sleep, he happens upon a distraught Cinderella, who has had her dress torn up by her step sisters. She was planning to go to the ball, but cannot, because it is "impossible" (muri)

Terra tries to console her. It's all very reminiscent of the scenes of Herc's, Sora's, and Riku's defeats.

After Terra fights off the unversed summoned by Cinderella's negativity (toxic much..), Out of the blue, the fairy godmother appears and makes everything better. She fixes up Cinderella with a dress and a ride to the ball, and sends her on her merry way.

She explains to Terra that she appeared to Cinderella to show her that her dreams *can* come true and that she typically appears only to people that have a strong belief in their dreams. Terra says he believes in dreams but you have to work for them, to which FGM responds that simply believing in dreams is already a difficult thing on its own. (Ventus also compares Terra to Cinderella. btw. because of his strong dreams)

Now. Sigh. Im not the only person that has pointed this out. The FGM quite literally appears to Riku, but only after a year has passed and they have no leads on Sora, and after it's implied that Riku is starting to lose hope.

In the limit cut, you can see Riku's sad wet puppy dog face as he talks about how hard everyone is working, and how they haven't found anything at all. He says "if Sora is really out there, don't you think we would have found something by now?" - Again, he's losing faith in his dreams of Sora's return. This is important.

I do not have the strength to go through and find all the times Riku told everyone to believe in Sora in KH3. It's a lot. And the last thing we hear him say Near Sora, is to let him go on his suicide mission to save Kairi - to BELIEVE in Sora (#wish).

So one, we know the dream Riku believes in is Sora, and two, we know he is starting to lose his belief in his dreams, like Cinderella before the ball, when he dress is destroyed.

Right after it's clear their is no lead through the data from Org 13, FGM appears, just like she did for Cinderella. And she tells Riku that His Dreams Are Literally A Key To Find Sora (that hes quite literally been #dream drop distancing into sora's dreams while hes in unreality is already so much without the FGM being there to explain this to him but KH is crazy!)

One last thing to really drive this home. The FGM brings Riku and Kairi to the nameless star to bring the three keys together.

And what does she tell Riku, before he leaves?

"Be careful. Do not attempt to do the impossible."

---------

if you read this whole thing... well... im proud of you. I know i definitely missed stuff, because it would be so hard to go through all the games and really dig for the use of this term especially when I dont speak japanese at all. and because i wrote this all in one night. But dont hesitate to comment or reblog if you have anything to add. I freaking love kingdom hearts

[soobnny]

meet odd — han jisung.

trope. acquaintances to lovers. college au. u live in the same apartment floor. fluff.

synopsis. you get to know han jisung under strange circumstances or alternatively “we live in the same floor and the room between ours always has really loud sex so now we’re both in the main lounge at 2am… do you want this last bit of ice cream?”

word count. 2.3k

warnings. mentions of sex (from the apartment neighbor), cursing

note. hello hello! another skz fic hihi send an ask if u wanna be added to my skz perma taglist :’) i hope u enjoy this silly little story

part 2

There are a lot of things you love about your apartment – the free water and electricity bill, how it's walking distance from your school, the really cold study lounge, and the cat that frequents your small balcony.

For its price, you really couldn’t ask for anything more. The cheap monthly pay goes perfectly with your very strict budget as a broke college student. So, truly, you couldn’t ask for anything more.

Actually, maybe you could.

Within all the great qualities your apartment has to offer, there lies one really, really big setback. The apartment right next to yours and your painfully thin walls. The amount of times it has fucked you up in the head after a long day of classes and exams are immeasurable.

Cue the soft banging of your head against your wall and the pillow around your ears to block out the noises, serene smiling as you greet her the next day as you walk out of the apartment together to head to your early morning classes.

The months before she moved, your apartment had been the safest haven to retreat to – where you could stare at the ceiling after a long day, finish your school work quietly before getting comfortable in your bed, and rewatch a show you’d seen a million times before sleeping to prepare for another battle in your university.

Now, your armor is faltering, and the number of hours of your sleep is decreasing gradually fast. Each night was just repetitive banging of her bed’s headboard against the wall between your apartment rooms and obnoxious moans.

You honestly wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t so fucking loud about it.

And if they didn’t go at it until the crack of dawn.

You hate to be told to be grateful. There’s a clear border for when you’re valid to feel frustration over your situation – when you’re allowed to be ungrateful for the downcast of your neighbor in your life.

Because of your predicament, you’ve found multiple alternatives to aid you in overcoming this temporary challenge. There’s a pair of noise canceling headphones on your nightstand that you begrudgingly used your savings up on to purchase, and you’d been a constant visitor in Seungmin’s dorms.

However, you can only go for so long before you start displaying lower back pains from Seungmin’s old and fucked up couch. His roommate, Jeongin, doesn’t help much either when he enjoys talking your ears off as he does anything but study for his classes.

This is what your new living situation is like. You live off Seungmin’s dying couch and the random stabs of pain on your lower back, your apartment neighbor having the time of her life, and the newly formed bags under your eyes.

You’ve definitely thought about marching up to her room and talking to her about it. But what the hell were you supposed to say? It isn’t exactly the easiest thing to confront people about their sex life.

That’s how you find yourself retreating from your apartment at the ass crack of dawn to sit at the main lounge for a bit, defeated with slumped shoulders and heavy eyes.

They can’t go on for much longer, right? You just had to wait at the main lounge for a few more minutes and you could go back to the comfort of your own bed.

“Good morning.” There’s laughter in the voice of the only other person lounging on the couches of your lobby, legs crossed with a tub of ice cream in his hands.

You recognize him as Han Jisung – the other apartment situated right next to your sex addict neighbor. You’ve only really seen him a few times, in the elevator, leaving for the gym as you come back from school, and you’ve only really shared a brief exchange of hi’s and hello’s. Seeing him in a hoodie and sweatpants with glasses on has your stomach doing a summersault.

He is so painfully handsome, jumping straight out of his hot-boy-with-humor trope.

As soon as your eyes meet, the two of you laugh so loudly and so hysterically. You just know. You know why he’s here at 2am with his tub of ice cream. He’s at the main lounge for the exact same reason you are, and something about that feels so humanizing and funny to you.

There’s a shared understanding in your crinkled eyes and cracked smiles and heavy panting from laughing too hard at your predicament. You don’t care that you look crazy with your messy hair from tossing and turning from your bed all night. Nothing looks or sounds crazy to Jisung.

He’s scooting over the couch to leave the space next to him for you, his hand dropping down to pat the spot so you can sit right next to him.

You’re quick to walk over and sit next to him, and he gives you a smile, fingers drumming over the arm of the sofa with his thigh pressed up against yours slightly that makes your heart beat erratically.

“Want some?” His round boba eyes look at yours as he nudges the tub of ice cream in front of you, twisting his body so he can face you better.

The scent of his cologne is holding you ransom.

None of this feels real, but you swear you can’t be making this shit up. You can’t be making up pretty Han Jisung with his slightly long and a bit disheveled hair and his puffed out cheeks as he chews on his ice cream.

Staring down at his offer, you go over your choices. Although, when someone offers up free ice cream at 2am when you need comfort the most, you don’t think there’s really a need to go over your invisible choices. There’s an obvious answer – the one you take as you grab a spoonful of his ice cream and stuff it in your mouth.

You close your eyes at the cold sensation, a smile creeping up on your face instantly. You’re the happiest you’ve been today already, in this moment, eating ice cream with the boy with worn out converse and the sweetest laugh.

“How have you been coping?”

Jisung knows exactly what you’re talking about, and he finds it hilarious how you’re labeling his response to your shared neighbor as ‘coping mechanisms’. His lips twitch up as he rolls his head back to rest on the cushions.

“You can only go so far with noise canceling headphones.”

“I know right!” Your face lights up as you take another spoonful of ice cream, nodding your head in agreement.

“I tried staying with a friend for a bit, but I’m tired of living off protein shakes and cuddling on the same bed. A double sized bed cannot fit me and Changbin.” He shivers as he recounts his experiences with the boy.

“Changbin as in Seo Changbin from the Music and Performing Arts department?”

“Yeah! Binnie! How do you know him?” Your question makes the smile on his face brighter.

“My friend Seungmin knows him. I’m definitely telling him you shaded his love for protein shakes and that you hate cuddling with him.”

“I don’t hate cuddling with him!” Jisung defends himself, shaking his head aggressively. “I would cuddle with him on a bigger bed.”

“Dude…” He laughs.

Something about how he has experienced the same struggles you have is a little haunting, but also comforting. To know you’re not the only one who has gone through the mockery of begging to stay at a friend’s or purchasing those stupid overpriced headphones.

“Wanna… uh, nevermind.”

“Hm?”

Jisung isn’t the most straightforward person in the world, but something about the way you’re looking at him with wide, curious eyes is intoxicating, and it gives him enough courage to continue talking.

Clearing his throat, he repeats. “Wanna go out for a bit?”

Han Jisung’s voice is very deep and very convincing at 2 in the morning.

“They’re not gonna be done soon?”

He studies your hopeful features and pats your shoulder in comfort. “I don’t wanna ruin your small ray of hope, but they were going at it until 4am last night.”

Grimacing, you drop your head in defeat. “If that’s the case, then let’s go.”

That’s how you find yourselves at a creepy, run-down convenience store near your apartment, purchasing more ice cream and looking through the stalls for anything to buy.

“Hey, Hannie!” You call out to him at the back of the store, and he comes padding over with a splash of giddiness in his heart at the nickname you give him.

His friends have called him that a million times, but it sounds different coming from you. It sounds so natural, like you were always meant to say it.

He bites down his lip to prevent himself from smiling further. His heart flutters at the possibility of you being a constant in his life. Hannie, Hannie, Hannie. It slips out of your mouth so easily that he wonders if the universe purposely gave you two that neighbor for this specific moment.

For him to meet you at the main lounge and invite you to the convenience store (and into his life in the process).

Is this what those stupid male leads feel like in those romantic comedies he binge watched with Changbin?

Jisung used to think it was absolutely ridiculous to meet someone and form an entire life with them in their head, but he finds himself doing the same in all his hypocrisy.

When he arrives to where you’re standing, he watches in amusement as you spend the next few minutes trying your hand at a run-down claw machine – desperately aiming for the pompompurin keychain.

First, you play with eyes of determination and careful movements, and then you’re smashing at the buttons in frustration.

Pretty, he thinks.

He can’t help but swoon at the sight of you with an oversized hoodie, smashing at the claw machine with your eyes half open and your lips pouted in defeat.

“Want me to try?”

You’re aware that claw machines were always faulty and deceiving, but you allow Jisung to try and win the keychain that’s probably cheaper to buy than the amount of money you’ve inserted in the coin slot to play the game.

With the plastic bag of ice cream and candy on his left hand, he uses his right hand to control the stick so he can angle the claw the way he needs it. Leaning forward, he focuses on getting the keychain you’ve been aiming for, pressing the red button after a few seconds of pushing it around.

His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the claw land exactly where he needs it to be, and he sneaks a glance at your anticipating face – heart speeding up at the sight.

“Oh my god. And you got the one I wanted?!” Jisung crouches down to grab the keychain from the prize slot before handing it to you and it immediately finds its home on the zipper of your wallet.

He has a proud smile on his face when he sees you hugging your wallet to your chest with a newfound happiness brightening your features. Even the convenience store lady is impressed at how he was able to get anything from that claw machine at all.

Maybe that’s what the graveyard shift does to you. It tires you out so much that you find someone winning at the claw machine game fun.

With an ice popsicle on your hand and your wallet with your new favorite keychain on the other, you and Jisung start to make your way back to your apartment. It was getting late, and they have to be done by now.

There’s a few moments of peace before you hear Jisung audibly trying to suppress his laughter. He’s trying not to giggle, and you know exactly why.

Your jaw drops, hitting him on his upper arm before sulking.

He doesn’t even need to tell you for you to know he’s laughing at your ice cream eating skills (your popsicle’s already melting and you’ve desperately been trying to finish it before it dissipates for the past few seconds).

There’s a taunting smile on his face as he apologizes. “I’m sorryyy.” He drawls the last syllable, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“You just look so cute.”

Something ricochets in your stomach the moment he says that, and you really hope he can’t hear your heart racing over his obnoxious giggling.

Jisung doesn’t know where he got the confidence to say that aloud. He’s also hoping the streetlights are dim enough for you not to notice the redness on the tip of his ears.

When you arrive, you immediately recognize the boy hurriedly rushing out of the apartment as your neighbor’s boyfriend. And when he speeds past the pair of you with a sheepish and shy smile on his face, you immediately make eye contact with Jisung.

Another fit of laughter breaks out.

And as you laugh and giggle over the poor boy’s obvious embarrassment, your eyes drift over towards Jisung, your newfound friend and how his eyes glint with genuine happiness and how he feels so comfortable to be with.

Similarly, Jisung finds himself mirroring your gaze. Somehow, he feels that starting today, things are definitely going to change between the two of you and the possible shift of your interactions into something more constant makes his heart flutter.

Before today, Han Jisung was just another boy who lived on the same floor as you, who you shared a few small pleasantries with. However, as the pair of you walk back to your rooms with your plastic bags of popsicle and candy wrappers and the hint of laughter still bubbling in your throats, you can tell that this moment right now with him feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

You hate to be told to be grateful, but in the stupidity of your own reflection, you are. For what – you’re starting to think it has something to do with the boy next to you.

[loppsided]

e. mikaelson as your boyfriend

summary: headcanons for dating elijah mikaelson.

pairing: elijah mikaelson x reader

wc: 389

warnings: kissing, mentions of blood

a/n: another boyfriend headcanons! ik they get repetitive but there just a base to fill up my masterlist and practice writing! requests are still open so send something if you want! likes and reblogs appreciated.

very protective, always having to know where you are incase of danger

the possibility of being taken or hurt since the mikaelsons always have a target on there head

very noble obviously, doesn't make promises often but when he does he ALWAYS sticks by them

prefers to kiss you on the forehead and top of the head rather than cheek

love language is 100% acts of service or gift giving

a bouquet every week is a given when dating him

see's you taking care of hope sometimes and is filled with love and sadness since he wishes he could have kids with you

speaking of kids, i think he would adopt children with you, especially if you've been together for a while

would take you to where he used to play as a kid in mystic falls

probably keeps your existence a secret from his siblings since they can be dangerous

if your also an original and have known him since you were humans, hes so obsessed with you its crazy

being together for over 1000 years will do that to people

him holding you while you were going through your transition, shaken, seeing you all covered in blood from being stabbed by mikael

when you were humans he would always ask you to come with him to the watering hole and just talk to you for hours

after getting married he built you and his shared house, decorating it how you liked

him teaching you how to use a sword, sword fights leading to make out sessions

comforting him when his brother passed away

back to now

somehow always knows how your feeling? like hes just really good at reading you and your emotions

if your a younger vampire, he always teases you about how hes stronger than you

assisting him with dealing with the mystic falls gang and his family

still being starstruck seeing you in dresses for the millionth time, like at the mikaelson ball

traveling all across the world in your free time, seeing the most beautiful sites

always hears you out in arguments, taking your feelings and opinions into account

him being extremely loyal to you, not even imaging himself with someone else even after all these years

if he really loves you, he'll blood share with you

the sweetest, kindest most thoughtful boyfriend

[justpeaxchy]

The Hunt.

Hiccup x reader

Prologue: Being a kidnapped dragon hunter isn't fun. You are a living testament to that. Things seem to turn around for your good, though, much to your luck.

Warnings: descriptions of a few wounds, mentions of blood, being cuffed with a rope, and feeling overwhelmed.

A/n: oh yeah, it's all coming together. (If you know where that's from, ilysm.) New fic..I think. Extra notes: Reader is female in this one and will have a fake name throughout the story... you'll still be able to pick whatever name you wish for the real one, though.

Winter wasn't here yet, it was only clearing its throat - for the most part. Yet, the cold that pierced against your skin would've said otherwise. It felt as though millions of icicles were endlessly stabbing on your body, leaving you to helplessly attempt to wrap your bruised arms around your quivering figure, desperately clinging to the non-existent warmth you earnestly craved for.

The distant sound of waves from the outside crashed against your ears, making a repetitive movement to the begrimed box you were in. That's what you called it, a box. In actuality, that's all it really was. A gigantic box with metal bars, meant for animals. Or, more specifically, dragons; the one species that actually deserved to be in that cage you were forced in. It also smelled rancid in there.

Probably because of the enormous reptiles that were stuck in the same room as you were.

One of them groaned out in discomfort, the the chains that held them down being the only thing that restrained them from blowing the ship up into smithereens. Your eyes warily flickered over its struggling form, the iron muzzle on its mouth being brought together by a measly buckle on the back of its head. Dragons could be so intimidating, and yet, all it took was a few shackles to restrict their confidence.

Your wrists silently cried out in pain as you took your gaze off the beast that was a cage in front of you, wincing at the rope that pricked your besmirched skin. You were used to being the one that tied things up, not the other way around. It brought massive pangs of aching, that's for certain. If only you put some extra effort into getting those ropes on the dragons you were meant to hunt, you figured you wouldn't be in this predicament.

You wondered if they noticed you were gone. They've had to. It's been three days so far, from what little information you gathered by the nuisances that forced you into this box. Your tribe wasn't the biggest, but it was enough to earn the title of a 'tribe.' Your father would have to come sooner or later anyways. It would only be a matter of time before he came crashing into this ship with one of his own, saving you from this monstrous place. That's what you've been telling yourself since you were unwillingly put in a cage, meant for the very thing that brought you here.

It was painfully ironic.

The nuisances that tied your hands hadn't even glanced at the wounds they caused you. They'd taken your only two weapons: your bow and arrow, as well as your dagger, leaving you defenseless - something you despised. Thankfully, they didn't put a muzzle over your own mouth, allowing you to pester them whenever you had the opportunity. That, however, did not make the stinging soreness leave your body; cuts littered across your fingers and your arms, one charming scratch located on your cheek, and weakened legs that refused to cooperate much. You were living the perfect dream.

If that dream ended up being a nightmare you visualized as a child.

Men's voices were heard from above you, coming out as muffled utterances to one another. You brushed it off as normal, not wanting to increase the aggravating headache that clung onto you, attempting to push away the hunger that yelled its complaints from within your stomach. Shifting uncomfortably in your spot, you glimpsed at your tattered clothes, noticing a few blemishes of dried blood in a few places. You grimaced at the sight, miserably wanting to clean off your cuts and bruises and find a new pair of clothing. You hated being unclean, despite the job you were set out to do.

The dreadful thoughts of worrying whether or not the cuts you bore would get infected abruptly came to an end when you heard the same men's voices - although this time, it seemed to be more frantic, much more louder than it had been previously. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, feeling a spark of hope that your father had come back as you tried to get a glimpse of what might be happening above, the cracks of the hatch door not providing you any evidence as to why they were suddenly shouting warnings to one another.

Before you could try and vainly investigate any further, the echoing sound of swords colliding against one another made you flinch, the familiar yells of war cry being one of the loudest things you heard. The other commotion was despicably familiar. Threatening roars were heard, impossible to ignore, but it wasn't from the dragons that were trapped in the cages with you. "That's definitely not good.." You muttered, your voice raspy from not drinking enough water over the course of three long days.

The ship seemed to rattle at a larger rate, causing you to stumble as you tried to stand up with your feeble legs; your body was doused in inadequate strength, weakly being able to lean against the gelid bars of the cage. The tumult above never came to a pause as you felt your heart pound from within your chest, desperate to know who came to invade the ship. You thought your questions would be answered as the hatch door quickly opened, allowing you to see a man frantically running down the creaky wooden steps with panicked features.

You smacked your lips at the realization that it was just another one of the hunters, blowing a stranded piece of your hair out of your face as you watched him briefly scan each of the cages, double-checking them all to make sure all of the dragons were still in their original spots. He didn't even glimpse over at your direction, his focus strictly remaining on guarding the dragons as they began to roar, trying to escape from the chains that blocked their way to freedom. You were peeved by the man's actions, furrowing your brows at him as you mentally scolded him for coming by himself.

Leaving the atrocious ship was your only priority, but it was hard to ignore the very obvious mistake he made. It proved itself not to be the most intelligent plan as another figure appeared at the entrance of the hatch, swiftly running down the steps with a weapon that glowed with a threatening amount of flames, wasting no time in making the foolish man fall to the ground. The other stranger kicked his weapon in a distance where he wouldn't be able to grab it right away, hastily going over to the cages with a pair of keys he must have stolen, freeing each dragon as expeditiously as he could while the hunter groaned in pain on the floor.

The stranger with the flaming sword was agile in unbuckling the muzzles and chains, nimbly going to another cage as soon as he was done with a previous one. He didn't notice you yet, too engrossed with freeing the dragons out of all things. It wasn't hard to figure out that he was apart of the group you've heard about, the one that was on a mission to 'save' all trapped dragons. It brought a bitter taste to your mouth. That, however, would have to be pushed aside. For now.

You tried calling out for their attention, but combined with the screeches and roars of oversized reptiles and your hoarse voice, it was no surprise that it went unheard. Anxious that you wouldn't be seen, and therefore have no way of escaping, you continued to yell out as loud as you could: "Hey! Over here, flaming sword person!" Oh, how you wished your hands weren't tied together; you could've at least made some extra noise against the bars if they hadn't been.

You doubted the stranger would ever look over at you, all until another person sharply sprinted down the steps, a familiar set of armor adorning their figure, one that appeared to have the same material as the other stranger. In the dim lighting from above, you managed to see a distinct difference in the color, though. "Alright, they're all down and the dragons are freed!" Stranger number two shouted, dodging a dragon as it bolted up next to her, breaking through the wood to finally escape. The rest of the dragons followed, roaring in triumph.

"Good. We need to get going then." Their voices came out slightly muffled, the helmets they wore covering their entire faces as they got ready to leave. Much to your relief, Stranger number two scanned the area one more time, doing a double-take when they noticed you. They frantically tapped on the other's arm, gesturing over to your form as they both looked over at you in surprise.

"How could you have missed that? And, look! There's a whole other dragon over there in front of her!" Stranger number two, who sounded like a young woman, pointed to the dragon that still remained in its cage in front of yours, whining to be free. Shaking her head, the stranger ran over to your cage, inspecting you from where she stood while the other one worked on getting the dragon free, rambling out their apologies in the process. "Are you alright? Can you walk?" The unknown woman asked, not making any immediate move to get you out of the cage.

You cleared your throat before responding, "I'm alive, and it'd be a pretty big struggle for me to walk right now.." Your eyes watched as she turned to the other stranger, who now had freed the dragon. It was quick to leave, darting up in the same way the others had done, not glancing back at the people who helped it even once. She beckoned for them to come closer and, as you listened more carefully and looked them over, the other stranger appeared to be a young man. For a moment, you didn't entirely know that because of his muffled voice.

It sounded a bit odd.

He was about to unlock the cage for you, but the woman extended out her hand, stopping him from continuing any further. He seemed just as confused as you were by the slight tilt of his head, the helmet hiding any other evidence of what he was thinking. "Hold on. Are you..one of them?" She cautiously asked, silently questioning if you were also a dragon hunter.

You were startled that she asked you such a thing, being that you were in a cage. You felt your mouth become even more dry at the sudden confrontation, the small bickering between the two strangers that now occurred going deaf to your ears. Of course you couldn't tell them the truth, they'd probably abandon you here like the rest on this ship. And you knew the only way they must have gotten here was on a dragon, the very creature you were set out to kill. You wondered what your father would think of you if you rode on the back of one of those things.

Being faced with the decision of lying directly to them about who you really were, you internally apologized to your tribe, finding that being alive was much better than having to stick with the identity you placed on yourself because of your job and be left for dead because of it. Your heart ached at the thought of your father, wondering what his reaction would be like when he found out what you were about to do. Not wanting to get stuck down that spiraling hole of worrying, you lifted your head and spoke, raspy voice and all:

"No. I'm not."

When they looked at you as though they didn't understand what you had said, you gave a more detailed answer, "I was..kidnapped, and they, uh, put me down here with the dragons. It's been three days." Your answer was true, for the most part, but you hoped they wouldn't interrogate you any further. An excruciating long second of silence passed as you waited for one of them to open the cage door, beginning to think your response wasn't good enough, until the young woman took a step back. The first stranger took that as his confirmation and he rapidly unlocked the cage, allowing you to take your first wobbling step of freedom.

"Wait, let me get that off you." He gestured towards the ropes that entrapped your hands, speaking with a softer tone as though he were helping an injured animal. You weakly nodded as he pressed a button on the handle of his sword, the flames dying out in a matter of seconds before he carefully began to cut off the man-made prison for your hands. The moment you felt the ropes fall off, you sighed out in content, grateful your wrists could finally breathe. "Alright, she can ride with you, Astrid."

You glanced at the young woman, who you knew now as Astrid, who quietly agreed as she took careful steps closer to you, lifting one of your arms to wrap it around her shoulder, giving you the much needed assistance to walk up the not-so-stable stairs, which were halfway destroyed by the dragons who flew out of there. The other stranger, who's name you still didn't know, walked beside you as well, making sure you wouldn't trip in any form.

The fresh air was your own sip of pure cold water; it brought a faint sense of relief, reminding you that you were still actually alive and would make it out of that ship as such. That peace was short-lived, however, once your gaze settled on the dragons that were still there, although these ones had..saddles. You never imagined the day where you'd meet a dragon rider, nonetheless get rescued by them. You swallowed down the nerves that started to arise in you at the sight of the difference sizes of dragons that stood before you, all of them having someone sitting on top of them as though they weren't completely dangerous.

Your eyes flickered over the ship once more, noticing a Deadly Nadder without someone on it, concluding that probably belonged to one of the people who helped you. Glimpsing at Astrid, though, you figured that was most likely her dragon due to the similar color of armor she wore. "Okay, guys, let's head out!" Stranger number one yelled, signaling for the other riders to leave, which they all did with skeptical glances thrown your way, the freed dragons following close behind. One of them, however, who sat on top of a Monstrous Nightmare, didn't hesitate to voice out his thoughts as he stayed on the ship with them; "Uhm, who's that? You guys just magically come back up here with..a girl? Instead of a dragon? What--"

"She was locked up in a cage, Snotlout. She said she was kidnapped, so we're gonna take her to Berk to get her wounds treated." The young man sounded irritated at first, briefly shaking his head in disappointment at the words the other dragon rider, 'Snotlout', said. He turned his focus onto Astrid, giving a short nod, "Make sure she's fully secure on Stormfly." With that, he took a few steps forward as Snotlout left, calling out for what you assumed to be his dragon: "Toothless! Time to go, bud!"

It was silent for a moment, only for a hauntingly familiar roar to sound in your ears, freezing in your spot as you witnessed a Night Fury appear from behind a cage on the far end of the ship. It was early in the morning, so there wasn't any natural lighting to see the dragon completely, the lamps that hung over a few of the cages being the only reason why you were able to make out its form. Its sleek scales blended in with the darkened sky, dorsal plates faintly glowing in a light blue as it bounded over to the three of you. Large emerald eyes cautiously looked over your figure, as though seeing if you were worthy of his trust, and all you could do was try and become as perfectly still as the pieces of wood that littered across the ship.

The Night Fury huffed, examining you from where he stood next to the first Stranger, looking just as skeptical as the other riders. "It's alright, bud, she...she didn't hurt us. She's not an enemy." You could easily pick up on the hesitation in his voice, knowing that he probably didn't trust you completely - rightfully so. "C'mon, let's go." At his command, Astrid also led you to the Deadly Nadder, lightly patting the dragon before she turned to help you mount it. You intended not to appear as uneasy as you felt, but you didn't do such a great performance. It also didn't go unnoticed by Astrid.

"It's okay, she won't harm you.. her name's Stormfly." She said, hoping to make you more comfortable with the dragon, which did not work at all. Hearing your silence, she continued to guide you up on the back of Stormfly, nodding towards the first Stranger once you were fully settled. She was much more skilled in mounting the dragon, making you even more discomfited. Glancing over at the other dragon rider who had now flown up in the air on the Night Fury, you questioned to yourself why he was so willing to help you. Berk, from what you've been told, was an island full of dragon lovers. That's what you called it, at least.

It made your skin crawl with disquietness.

"You might want to hang on. As tight as you can, okay? I know you're a bit..injured, but once we're at Berk you'll be able to rest there." Astrid brought you out of your hateful thoughts towards the dragons they rode, causing you to begrudgingly wrap your frail arms around her torso, not knowing what to expect. Not a minute later, the Deadly Nadder sprang up from the ship, vigorously flapping down her wings as she propelled herself up to the sky, deftly making long and husky strides towards the rest of the group. You yelped at the sudden impact, not fully comprehending if you were squeezing Astrid at that point. She didn't seem to mind, though, focused on getting closer to the other dragon riders.

The wind rushed past your unruly hair, leaving behind a piercing cold pang across your face as you desperately used what little strength you had left to hang onto the stranger that seemed more at ease than you were, barely only knowing her name. You narrowly heard her speak to you, as she slightly turned her head to glimpse back at your panicking form, "What's your name?"

Despite being on the back of a Deadly Nadder, your mind told you not to even mutter out your real name. Your last name, Arne, would be a dead giveaway as well, so you struggled to come up with a quicker response. Thankfully, you grabbed a hold of the lingering idea in your thoughts, shouting out your answer over the gale that surrounded your senses:

"Thyra! My name is Thyra."

She acknowledged your answer with one of her own, making sure you were able to hear, "I'm Astrid, you've probably heard that by now." Returning her focus forward again, she allowed you to be consumed by your worries once more. Your father certainly did not come back yet, and when he found out you weren't on the same ship as the one you were held hostage in, you pondered on the possibility of him setting out search parties for you.

Instead of hunting down dragons, he would have to go on a prolonged hunt for you.

Suddenly, you thought coming with this group of dragon riders wasn't as good of a plan as you predicted it to be.

----------

[sister-lucifer]

Apology, With Tears 

Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst/Comfort

Summary: Lucifer comforts you during a hard time, and reminds you that your feelings are always welcome with him

Content/Warnings: Comfort, guilt, angst with happy ending, implied venting (the source of anguish itself isn’t specified, please project whatever issue you may be having onto this fic /srs)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“I-I’m sorry….” 

Your voice was so small. Shockingly, terrifyingly so. For a moment Lucifer froze, unsure if he had really heard it. The words were as fragile as a single snowflake landing on the bare concrete, ready to break and melt into oblivion at any moment. They were as quiet as the coo of a dove in a raging thunderstorm, and yet they shook Lucifer to his very core. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m sorry, Lucifer…” 

There was a small part of him that thought maybe the repetition would bring clarity, but no such luck. Gently he hooked two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up towards him in a slow manner so that you’d have ample opportunity to resist him if you’d like. 

You did not. You allowed him to meet your eyes with his. 

That was the softest you’ve ever seen his gaze. 

The sharp brows that were usually taut with annoyance were furrowed just slightly in such a way that you could tell Lucifer didn’t even know he was doing it. He would never purposely let concern show so obviously, but it seems he was preoccupied with other, more pressing concerns at the moment. 

Something sorrowful in the swirling red of his eyes stabbed into your heart with a pang of guilt. To know you had caused Lucifer—the chronically overworked head of house—such worry brought a heaving sob from you. 

The last of your resilience disappeared like a flame in the wind. The tears flowed freely, and there was no stopping them. They ran fast down your cheeks and fell into your shaking palms and stained your shirt. They were shamefully, burning hot, like liquid fire on your face, but once they fell to your lap you could not feel them. You brought up an arm to cover your eyes, the tears soaking into your sleeve and soon after your skin. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, I—“ 

“Please, please stop saying that, my love….” 

The words are surprising, but even in your shock you can’t bring yourself to look up at Lucifer. 

“Why…” He begins, at a loss for words for the first time since he can remember. 

“…Why do you keep apologizing?” 

You thought you’d have an immediate answer, and yet when you open your mouth no words come. That should be an easy question. You knew why. 

Didn’t you? 

You have to search a bit more before you even think of speaking. 

“I just…I feel bad for…b-being like this—“ 

“Being like what?!” Lucifer interrupts, and now his confusion and desperation is showing through. He’s not raising his voice and yet his words hold a sense of urgency akin to that of a scream for help. He isn’t angry, but he is so overwhelmingly worried. 

“I…I-I shouldn’t…” You have to fish around in the word pool a bit more before pulling out the right ones. “I shouldn’t be…making you deal with this, i-it’s my problem, I can handle it, I…” 

The pause is heavy. Unbearably, crushingly heavy. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this to you…” 

It is in this moment that Lucifer’s black heart shatters into countless pieces. The larger fragments linger in their place, the smaller splinters go flying off in all directions. It is likely that he will never recover all of them. There is no way to when something like this happens. He knows that you have felt the same. You have lost many pieces of your heart along the way here. 

Fortunately, Lucifer has some to spare. 

“You aren’t doing anything to me, my love…” He assures you, taking your hands in his. His grip is loose, encouraging you to follow his movements instead of forcing you. 

“You talk about yourself as if you are some terrible, laborious thing that must be dealt with against all will. I’m not here because I am forced to or because I feel I must, or else. If I thought this wasn’t a serious matter I would have walked out of this room long ago.” 

He’s right. You know he’s right. Living with six unruly little brothers means Lucifer has a very high tolerance for emotional turmoil. You’ve seen him shoo his bickering brothers away or send an injured Mammon off with no more than a ‘good luck’ and a wave of his hand. He knew his brothers could deal with themselves. 

But you? You were not them, but he still knew exactly what you needed.

“You are not some heavy burden forced on my shoulders, I choose to be here. You have nothing to apologize for because I am asking you to seek me out for help.” 

A gloved thumb wipes a tear from your cheek, and for the first time you meet Lucifer’s gaze on your own. His expression is lighter somehow,  brows not pressed quite so tightly together. 

“Hardships cannot be endured alone, that is a fact. They are meant to be shared. So please, no more ‘sorry.’ Apologies are for when you do something wrong…like how a certain twin keeps eating the drywall in the common room…” 

You can’t help but laugh at that. It’s weak, hardly intelligible through your labored breathing, but Lucifer hears it. 

The smile that crosses his lips is merely a ghost, gone in a moment. 

But you see it. 

It comforts you in such a way that it destroys every defensive wall you had been fighting so hard to keep up. Suddenly you’re reaching for him, gripping onto his uniform shirt with aching fingers before pulling him to you. A loud sob echoes through you as you hide your face against his chest, hot tears leaving trails down his button up. 

If you were anyone else in any other scenario, Lucifer would probably be a bit appalled at how you were ruining his freshly ironed uniform. 

And yet, the thought never even crossed his mind.

A tender hand strokes the back of your head, and the other ushers you up into a more comfortable sitting position in his lap. 

He doesn’t shush you, or tell you it’s okay, because it isn’t. But it doesn’t have to be. He knows you will calm yourself in your own time. 

Until then, he is more than content to stay right here. 

[melanieph321]

Just anything Josko

He seems so sweet and shy in public but I bet he’s super protective

Ofc ❤️

Joško Gvardiol x Reader - Tell Me I'm Yours

Enjoy!

You woke up alone, which was pretty sad. You told Joško to drop you off at your apartment after your date last night. However, he convinced you to stay with him. For the sex, you suspected.

You took a shower and got dress as the morning unfolded. After making yourself a nice little breakfast you really thought about going home. You had chores of your own that need to be done, and puttering around in some guy's apparment didn't exactly give you ahead start. However, Joško seemed so serious when he said, "I'll be back after training, please don't leave."

You really liked him, maybe even loved him. However, he had never made any indications that you were his girlfriend, nor had you been introduced to any of his friends. And now all of a sudden he felt the need to keep you locked up in his apartment.

"Fuck that." You thought. This life, this behavior, it could only mean two things. Either Joško had no experience on how to treat and keep a girl, or you were simply the side piece that he kept while running home to his real girlfriend every day.

"Fuck that."

You gathered your things and left the apparment.

A big mistake.

It was around eight o'clock in the evening when a loud knock rattled your door.

"Who is it?" You shouted.

No answer, just a repetition of the loud knocks.

"I have a knife!" You threatened. But what could a short girl with a knife do? Stab the intruder in the knee?

It took you alot of courage to open the door, a gasp escaping your mouth as you did. "Joško?"

He stood clenching his jaw, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed. "You left." He groand.

"I...I did."

"I told you not to leave."

"I'm sorry Joško, but I was not gonna...."

"You promised not to leave."

You let out a shriek as Joško threw you over his shoulder, closing the door behind you.

"Joško, put me down." You laughed. You had no idea where the laughter came from as it was a very stressful situation.

Joško carried you through your apartment towards the living room, where he lay you down on the couch. The look on his face changed, his expression faltering. Leaving him might truly have hurt his feelings. He was still wearing his training attire, and you imagined the look on his face when he arrived back to his apartment only to find it empty and abandoned by you.

"What must I do to keep you?" Joško said, lowering himself to kiss your neck.

"Tell me I'm yours." You whimpered.

"You're mine, of course you're mine Y/N." He had begun rushing things now, skipping the foreplay, going straight to pulll down your pants and his.

"Tell me I'm the only one."

"You're the only one Y/N, why do you think I wanted to keep you with me?"

"Why?" You asked, your voice in your throat as Joško aligned himself with your entrance, easing into you in case you weren't completely ready for him. You were however. You were ready and eager to have him inside of you.

"Fuck Joško."

He laughed against your skin. "You like that?"

"Yes." You moaned.

"Me too, you feel so good baby, so tight."

He thrusted in and out of you while cradling your body, raising his head with every jerk, as if to check on you.

"You never answered my question." You said, as his urge for your body blew over, and the previously rough kisses turned into sweet pecks to your cheeks.

"What question?" Joško frowned.

"Why did you want to keep me at your apartment all day?"

He pushed off the cuchens to meet your eyes. His gaze is gentle, almost loving. At that moment, you realized that perhaps you were the only one.

"The first and last thing I see." He muttered.

"Come again?" Now was really not the time for riddles.

Joško smiled, a rare smile that perhaps was only meant for your eyes and your eyes only. "I want you to be the first person I see when I wake up in the morning and the last person I see before I go to bed in the evening. That's why I wanted to keep you in my apartment baby. Because I love you and need you."

Your hand ran through his hair, coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. You pulled him down to meet your lips, kissing him until you felt the rest of him come alive again. "I need you too." You whispered. "I need you now and forever."

[pmpknsoup]

ohhhhhh something about the way siffrins mental health is portrayed is just so. oh its so RAW. hes so anguished and hes so desperate and you FEEL IT. the shaky text the screaming the blacked out screens. its so visceral. and its ugly. and its frantic. and its not romanticized or pretty or anything of the sort. its real and its heavy and its intense and he lashes out and its so GOOD. the repetition, the rituals, the unhealthy attachments. the obsessive routine, the "script". the ANGER the disgust with himself the LONGING. the aching yearning the way he digs his teeth into everything familiar because he cant lose this too, if he loses his friends, his FAMILY, then what does he have left??

AND ON TOP OF THAT. the way his family all help him out in their own ways. bonnie giving them snacks because thats how they know how to love. odile begrudgingly setting aside her own issues with feelings to ask siffrin if hes okay. isabeau seeing siffrin spiraling and gently redirecting his attention. mirabelle telling siffrin she really does care about him and that shes glad hes there. OHHHH ITS SO GOOD its so good i cant even express.

TW FOR SUICIDE UNDER THE CUT

especially the spiraling with the dagger. oh my god. the way his dialogue slowly changes everytime he uses it. the frantic IT FELT LIKE DYING, AND THEN LIKE NOTHING. AND KNOWING YOU PUT YOURSELF THERE!!!! and the way he feels ashamed and the way it stops being "you killed yourself" and starts being "you saved yourself some time". the way he stops thinking about it and starts stabbing immediately. the way it gets worse and worse and the way when hes confronted by loop and asks "is anything going to happen if i keep doing it?" and loop saying "i think it already has" GOD. god the way mental health is handled in this game. oh my god.

[waklman]

Hi Tilly! So, I’m living by myself for the first time and my dishwasher just flooded my apartment 🫠I’m fine😀, really… 😭. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to maybe write something with Bradley and babybear 🥺. They are my comfort characters! love ya ❤️

summary: you and bradley go out for a late night snack or bf! bradley who stands there in silence x gf! who orders food for them both.

warnings: mentions of strict dieting, one or two suggestive jokes. fluff, 18+ blog.

note: helpp the way that kind of made me laugh. as a fellow girlie who also gets herself in trouble when left alone, i hope your floors are okay! excuse the quality as writers block has me by the neck

something 'bout you masterlist.

It’s not often that Bradley dines out. He’ll indulge in some of Penny’s greasy bar snacks once in a while—nothing more than that.

With the one time he did slack off, it wasn’t exactly easy to get back to his original physique. In fact, Bradley even found himself struggling to keep up with the likes of Hangman at one point.

And that was just the wake up call he needed to finally get back on track. 

Since then, he’s made sure to double down on his efforts to stay in shape, scarfing down his protein packed, repetitive, plain meals. It’d be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit tasking, but it's nothing Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t put up with. And when Bradley was committed towards something, he was all in. 

But what he forgot to include in his ‘fool proof’ plan to remain loyal to his diet, was his stubborn girlfriend who loves to spoil him rotten. Which is why he's finding it difficult to swallow down his food tonight.

The usual pre-prepped dinner has never tasted so bland and downright dry, especially when you’re planted in front of him with that tablet in your hands.

For the past thirty minutes, Bradley has been subjected to a screening of strangers eating a variety of foods—from huge portions of instant noodles—to enormous crab legs being dipped in buckets of cheese. 

He’s seen it all. 

“Give in,” you whisper, fingers tightly curled around the edges of the ipad, though, you’re careful enough to not block the screen itself.

Across the rounded table he’s sat in, you’re standing there like you’re getting paid to show him a compilation of mukbang videos. You’d put the billboards lined up on the nearby highways to shame. 

“Not a fucking chance,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head firmly. 

Stabbing his fork into another piece of boiled chicken, Bradley stuffs it into his mouth in defiance. He refuses to wave the white flag, not when he’s worked so hard to finally restrain himself.

Maverick would have to come twirling into the living-room in ballerina-get up for him to take it as a sign to treat himself to a cheat meal. 

At his clear refusal to give in, your head peeks out, just so slightly, behind the thirteen inch screen, eyes narrowed with fiery determination igniting them.

“Mcdonalds. Wendys. Burger King. In and Out,” you repeatedly chant, legs starting to tremble under the strain of standing up for so long. 

Bradley only flares his nostrils, a sign that he is not backing down either.

In any other scenario, his knees would’ve immediately buckled after one plea from you. But right now, he knows you’d stuff his face with junk—that he’s been successfully cutting out for months, if you were given the okay from him.

Though, he does have to admit, he’s finding it hard to keep a stern face because your legs look like they’re about to completely give out. Not wanting to keep you up any longer, Bradley tunes out your endless chant of fast food chains—which somehow turns into a catchy song, as he shovels more strips of chicken in his mouth.

Maybe if he finishes his dinner faster, he could coax you onto the couch to watch more Ryan Gosling movies. 

Following your gut feeling, you lift a finger to the front of the screen, tapping repeatedly on the skip button—until it felt right. After spamming your pointer just a few times, you lift the index off the glass, letting it play at a random point in the compilation.

Bradley’s tongue prods his cheek, straight face starting to falter. “Baby it’s not gonna work. Please just sit dow—” 

His mouth immediately clamps shut, throat moving as he swallows back a wad of drool pooling inside his mouth. The boring dinner under him is long forgotten. 

Noticing his dazed state, you lower the screen to probe what finally caught his attention. Bradley’s eyes practically trails the movement of the tablet, not looking away for a second.

A platter of juicy burgers leaking oil and mountains of fries is what breaks him. 

“And he’ll have the double bacon-burger, two large fries, one coke and—” 

The teenage boy behind the register blinks in disbelief, watching the giant man in front of him lean down towards his girlfriend, shyly whispering in her ear. 

Bradley draws back again, standing a head taller than you with his arms crossed around your front, glassy eyes roaming the lit-up menu stretched above the line of registers. 

“Oh, can we actually make that a root beer? Also I’m really sorry, but can you remove the tomatoes from the burger as well?” You request, giving Bradley comforting strokes on the forearm he has slung over your chest.

“Yes, Ma’m I can…I can do that for you,” the worker clears his throat, editing the order on the screen, customer service voice practically cracking. 

When you two first walked in, with matching pajama pants, the fast food employee assumed he was dealing with a pair of psychos from the streets.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, he’d always get one or two unsettling visitors in the duration of his night shift. But they’d always prowl inside the joint by themselves—they never had company—nor have they ever teamed up on him before. Briefly, he considered hovering his hand over the dusty emergency button directly under the counter. 

But to his surprise, you two were just a relatively normal couple with a craving for burgers at midnight. 

“Alrighty, your total comes out to 18.50,” he reads, eyes nervously darting between the two of you. “...Will that be cash or card?”

Almost in a race with each other, you both drop the lovely couple act, digging in your own pajama pants for your wallets. The anxious worker behind the counter starts taking a careful step back, afraid you two were going to pull out a weapon on him all of a sudden. God, he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily. 

He stills as you beat Bradley to it, holding out a credit card between your fingers, excitedly pointing it towards him. 

Bradley begins to panic, patting down his empty pockets. “Babybear, where the fuck is my wallet?” He tilts his head down at you, a knowing look settling on his face. 

As the credit card is taken from you, your mouth stretches into a wide smile, and you crane your neck backwards to look at him. “I tossed it in the back of the car when you weren’t looking,” you gleam in satisfaction.

Bradley sighs in disbelief, no wonder you were so clingy in the car. 

“Is that why you were crawlin’ all over me during all the stop lights?” 

“Gimme a kiss,” you suddenly demand, cutting him off. 

Bradley blinks at your puckered lips.

It practically pulls him into a trance, because he’s already dipping his head down to give you a quick peck. In a strange way, it’s almost a perfect recreation of that upside-down spider man kiss scene. 

Ultimately, he decides to keep the comparison to himself. If he were to mention it, you’d most likely start gushing about another movie actor.

He’s already heard enough of Ryan Gosling lately.

“I know you can open your mouth bigger than that,” you frown in his lap, readjusting the bundle of fries between your fingers. 

The buckle of his undone seatbelt hits your ankle when you wriggle to find a comfortable position next.

Bradley licks the ketchup off his lip. “Yeah, you would know,” he teases, giving your butt a quick squeeze, sleazy look on his face. 

Somehow, he’s the same person who was barely able to order food for himself inside the burger joint that’s currently behind his parked Bronco.

Receiving a silent look of disapproval from you, he finally clears his throat. 

“Okay, someone didn’t find that funny,” he mumbles, stretching his mouth wider for you.

“A little more. Ahhh,” you sing, encouraging him to take the fistful of french fries. Under you, Bradley nearly chokes when you stuff one more in his mouth, slamming his jaw shut with finality. 

“I like when your mouth is full. Less talking,” you jut your chin at him, all too pleased with the lapse of silence. 

Bradley stills his chewing, raising a brow at you. 

“Ugh! Stop it. Keep chewing those fries,” you complain, reaching for the large root beer resting on the dashboard behind you.

Bradley grins, mouth full of food, holding you steady when you twist your middle to grab the drink. 

Swallowing down a large ball of potato, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw, taking a long sip from the drink cradled between your hands. 

“Are you full?” You question, watching him lean back after finishing off the remains of the beverage. You decide to set the empty cup into the driver's seat for now. 

“Feeling so full, baby,” he groans, shutting his eyes as if it’ll help him digest it faster. 

Pursing your lips to hold back a laugh, you place a suggestive hand over his stomach. “Yeah? Feel it all in your tummy,” your voice drops to a lower register, mimicking his dirty talk from the other day. 

His eyes snap open, immediately.

The cramped Bronco, littered in empty paper bags and greasy wrapping paper jostles as he rushes to sit up tall. “You said no more jokes,” he scoffs, pinching your sides. What you said was worse than everything else he spat out tonight. 

“Hey,” you whine, scratching his bloated stomach with your nails. “Don’t act all mad big guy. I know you’re about to give in anyways,” you giggle. 

Bradley traces his teeth with his tongue, failing to conceal his growing smile. Because you’re right.

If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be thirty minutes away from home, favorite person in his lap and favorite cheat meal in his stomach.

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[kaeyas-beloved]

spider lily

Character: Kaeya

— the gods really do scorn his existence

CWs: gn!reader (no pronouns), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, you and Kaeya have a kid but it could be biological or adopted, death (reader + child), blood

val's no sympathy november masterlist

haha... happy (very belated) birthday Kaeya <3

Kaeya vividly remembers how he felt the first time you asked him on a date. It was like he was on top of the world, the broadest smile on his face as he agreed to meet you for dinner later, all while having his heart and throat squeeze itself of life. Like the organ that was responsible for keeping him on Teyvat was trying to sabotage him tying a weight to itself and tugging painfully. Tread carefully Kaeya Alberich, remember your place.

Of course, things couldn't be this easy, not when everything good resulted in a double-edged sword stabbing him in the back. There had to be a catch - were you pitying him? Mondstadt knew the bits and pieces of his history with the Ragnvindrs, you easily could too. No, maybe you, the one that captured his attention after many run-ins around the city of wind, had your eye on him too, but for all the wrong reasons.

If he was honest, he almost didn't go. He was a man of his word, yes, but right before the time Kaeya was supposed to meet you, he felt more like he was a ten-year-old boy again, scared and unsure of what the future held. Would you even actually be there? Maybe he just should go home... but what if you're waiting for him? He can't just embarrass you by leaving you there...

Just one peek, he told himself, rounding the building until he stood at the back entrance and sticking his head in. Every day after that one he thanked the Archons that he did, because after pssting Diluc over and inquiring if you were in the building, to which the redhead sighed and nodded, Kaeya steeled himself and sat down with you, offering a small lie that work kept him and that he was terribly sorry. That one decision let a relationship like no other that he's experienced blossom, and his days went from the monotonous curse to slightly better moments to repetition he was comfortable and content with. He even managed by some miracle to get to raise a kid with you, vowing to love both of you with all his heart. To provide for you both the best he can.

So where did he go wrong? Why did he come home to the door rammed through, swinging in the gentle wind? What about the sight of the home the three of you built together over the years destroyed, furniture toppled over and drawers obviously rummaged through?

For the first time in a while Kaeya felt fear strike his body, blood running cold as he called out your name and your kid’s name, begging for a response. Each second that ticked by worsened that chilling feeling as he checked room after room, finding each one turned upside down and void of life.

When the ground floor showed no luck the male climbed the stairs, tripping over in his haste as he disregarded all the other rooms and made a beeline for the bedroom. Out of all the rooms, that one was more likely where he’d find you.

And find you he did… but he wished it wasn’t dead in a pool of your own blood, eyes lifelessly stuck open. What was worse was the body of his kid not too far away from you, curled on their side. From the scene alone, it seems as if you were crawling towards them to protect them, even in your last breath.

Evidence be damned, as the tears fall down his face Kaeya collects the broken forms of you and your kid into his arms. He doesn't care for the blood staining his clothes or how loud his sobs are or how awkward the position is because all that matters is getting to hold his spouse and child for the last time.

At least he was allowed to hold them in peace, his final goodbye. That was the only thing he was granted amidst the pain.

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon

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@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

[sharpth1ng]

Not anonymous cuz I'm not a pussy.

OK so is it just me or is it SO fucking annoying when stu macher gets turned into this stereotype alpha mf and billy is like a little subby "I love you.. b-but I hate you!!" It's just so like ughh!!! Gag me with a spoon why don't you?

Honestly this happens to both of them in fanon. I think there's a tendency to turn characters into generic archetypes rather than to consider their actually characterization. Especially when we're talking about archetypes around sexual/romantic dynamics and kink, there's a tendency to see a larger person and decide they're the one doing the penetrating, the one in control, being dominant, ect. And vice versa the smaller one is the one receiving, being less dominant.

When you think about it a lot of these associations are very gendered, even when they're applied to same gendered pairings. Masculine = larger, dominant and active, the one who initiates sexual interaction, the one who does the penetrating, and feminin= smaller, submissive and passive, the one who gets penetrated. I constantly see characters being altered to be portrayed more in-line with these kinds of tropes.

Honestly it's just boring to me lmao, but also it doesn't suit these characters the way I understand them. It's a lot more dynamic, exciting and true to life to mix up these dynamic imo. Like a smaller dominant character? Suddenly dominance isn't defined by physical force, the person submitting could chose to flip the script but they don't because they're choosing to give up power.

Similarly, having a submissive person be the initiator is really interesting. It allows for the fun of resistance/ that "I shouldnt" moment without it feeling predatory. The person trying to start things is asking to be hurt, to be used, they aren't trying to use the other person, and I think that really switches the power dynamic.

And again something similar applies to submissive tops and dominant bottoms.

With Billy and Stu what we see in the movie is that Billy is sort of the boss, Stu follows his orders but also Stu is the one who initiates physical contact with Billy in the kitchen scene. For a lot of the movie Billy is either in jail or pretending to be dead (and yes I think he stayed in that room while stu was chasing people around, it would have been a big problem if Sid had gone back up to that room and he wasnt there), so we also have Stu being an active doer. Stu is also the one who begs to be stabbed.

What this says to me about their dynamic is that Billy is the more dominant one, he's the boss, all of what's happening is essentially happening for him. That said, Stu is the more active partner despite being the more submissive one in general.

Even with Billy being the more dominant partner he's not completely in control, he constantly feels like he's being taken hostage by his own emotions and by his desire for Stu, which I think also creates interesting motivation for his need for control. this dynamic is why Billy allows Stu to have slightly more control sexually when he feels more secure and is allowing himself to have feelings for Stu.

But still the way these characters interact with dominance and submission is different because they are different characters. Billy's submission is bratty, he needs to be wrangled, and he talks back the whole time, whereas Stu also talks back but it's all baiting, begging, asking for more, and for the most part he'll follow orders without question. In contrast Stu's dominance is service oriented, its all about making Billy feel good while Billy's dominance uses more degradation (which makes Stu feel good).

Its also worth noting that the nature of their dynamic shifts back and forth over time ( and you'll see more of that happening in WoM), because the characters needs, insecurities, and levels of comfort shift over time. If the dynamic was always the same it would get old and repetitive fast.

At the end of the day fitting complex characters into archetypes isn't going to feel satisfying for most people, and allowing for characterization that expands outside of and mixes tropes from different archetypes results in a more compelling and realistic dynamic.

Alright thats a lot lmao I wrote another essay 😭

[lafaiette]

Do you also feel like there is an ungodly amount of trash talk about Solas? Which would be fine but there really aren’t very many options to defend him????

That’s my biggest gripe so far. Like I feel like they are taking the choice away from me by making me be antagonistic towards a character that I don’t want to be antagonistic to in a game that is supposedly about CHOICE.

Sorry Lafiatte I’ve been feeling spicy about it lol.

OMG YES (under the cut because spoilers)

Everyone detests him, Harding is angry with him even before Varric gets stabbed, all insist what he did was terrible, that he was always distant and prickly, when we know this wasn't exactly true - he didn't want to grow attached to people in DAI for obvious reasons, yes, but he was always kind with his companions and the people in need. He always approved when the Inquisitor performed a kind action (like leaving flowers on a tomb) or said something nice.

If you use the outside camera when the Inquisitor first arrives in Redcliffe, you can see Solas kneeling down to help some hurt people on the road. That's who Solas was, not the cold person everyone (especially Harding) describes.

Also, no one wants to understand his POV - I think I have seen only Davrin "defend" him in one occasion, and Rook can sometimes say something positive about him ("He's lending us his help", "He's been nice so far" etc.), but it's really, really frustrating. Also, the constant repetition of the theme of regret - sometimes the dialogue seems written for 5 years old children playing a Pokemon game.

It's like the devs wanted the new players to hate him, and the old fans who never liked him to finally have the chance to say how much they can't stand him. Meanwhile the players who genuinely liked him, friendly Inquisitors and romanced Lavellans, are swept under the rug.

"Oh... you like Solas? Damn... good for you, I guess..."

I'm glad some people are liking it, but I can't see any love for the fans and the setting in this game, only fatigue and hurry. Understandable, after ten years of development hell, but damn, I'm sad.

[luveline]

For the zombie Steve au would you ever consider writing a blurb from before the college when Steve realizes he likes reader?

for you, my love!! steve zombie au —steve realises he likes you romantically, fem!reader

You're singing under your breath. Steve has it on record that he thinks you're a bad singer, but you don't sound half bad. Low, dulcet, you're singing an old song everybody knows. 

"Somewhere, beyond the sea, she's there waiting for me." You don't bother with the next line, interested more in the sock you're attempting to darn, the needle in your hand clumsy but well-meant. "Oh, ouch." 

"Prick yourself?" 

"I'm sorry?" you joke, laughing without answering his question. "I don't think that's any of your business, Harrington."

He grins at your saccharine, bubbly voice, enthused with laughter and unhurried. For once, you're not scared or anxious. The simple task of a repetitive action has distracted you from the reality of the world, and you're still being nice to him regardless. Steve's starting to think that, despite his bad moods and ill temper, you might like him. Or, starting to know it with surety. 

He figured when your shyness getting changed didn't ever quite abate, when you started snuggling into his waist at night, when one day you began complimenting him for things beyond survival skills —your hair is such a nice brown, Stevie— when you started calling him fucking Stevie, that you must harbour sweet feelings for him. He figured, and yet he had no idea how to feel about it. 

Steve started to confuse his feelings for yours, and vice versa. Wondering if maybe he was being nicer to you than he needed to be because he knew that was what you wanted. But he's sitting here now, cross-legged beside you on a double bed with no sheets in an abandoned house that's completely sealed from the inside out, no survival instincts, no ulterior motives, and he knows he likes you. That he might start to love you, if he has the time. 

He thinks about kissing you. 

"Do you need a bandaid?" he asks genuinely. 

"For this?" you ask, showing him your finger and the pinprick bead of blood that's blossomed there. You lick it clean. "No, thank you." 

"Alright. Want me to finish your sock?" 

"No, that's okay." You give him a suspicious look. "Why?" 

"What do you mean, why?" 

"Why would I want you to finish my sock?" you ask.

"Uh, 'cos you just hurt yourself? I'm trying to be nice." 

"Ooh, it suits you," you say, rolling your eyes. 

He reaches over to pinch your side. You jump, startled by his touch and surprised by his wanting to touch you, he can see it on your face. He really should be kinder to you. You don't do anything wrong, you're not mean, you're not even a liability or anything so strict. You're just a girl —you're more than a girl. You're the best friend he has right now, and you look out for him in more than necessities. 

"Who do you think you are?" he asks, giving you another jab. 

You laugh and squirm away from him. "I think I'm someone with a needle in their hand, ready to stab you," you say. 

"Really, you'd stab me? You're heartless. And here I thought you liked me." 

"I do like you," you say, tucking the needle you'd been waving at him behind a few threads of floss in the bobbin. 

"I like you too," he says. As soon as he says it, he knows it's true. You may not understand the depth of his words, but Steve does, and he can't shake the feeling that you need a reward. For being so likeable. For liking him first. "Give me your sock, I can darn better than you can." 

"You've had more practice," you explain away, though you do pass him your sock.

"Are you going to finish the song?" he asks. 

You glare. "Thought I sounded like a dying cat?" 

"You'll never let that go, will you?" 

"No, not likely." 

You laugh again, and this time Steve joins in. He retrieves the needle and sets about fixing the mistakes you'd made, hiding a smile as you lay down by his thigh, your hand curled up by his foot, and start to sing. "You have to join in," you say ugrnelty between lines. 

Steve joins in. Not worried about sounding good, not worried about anything, the two of you making up the words you forgot, out of tune but far from out of time.